My boyfriend (Chris) and I had been doing the long-distance thing for a long time. So, right before our two year anniversary, I said goodbye to my family in Georgia and moved everything I own to Houston, to live closer to him on the off-chance that we would eventually get married. But he was taking his oh-so-sweet time in moving the relationship to the next level -- and I was losing my patience.
By the time our three year anniversary rolled around, I was starting to wonder if this was ever going to happen. I suffered from “marriage fever” (BAD) and the poor guy couldn't reach in his pocket for a piece of gum without me yelling "Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!!"
I was working as a nanny for the family I lived with and, one night, took the kids over to Chris's house for a friend's birthday/pool party. We had a good time and, when 7pm rolled around, it was time for me to get the kids home to bed so they could go to school the next day. Once they were in bed, I called Chris for our mushy "goodnight" talk and he was out of breath like he had just run a marathon. That's when he told me the entire party had erupted in a giant food fight. I was so sad that I missed it -- if I wouldn't have had to leave to bring the kids home I would have been there when it happened. He could tell how bummed I was and did his best to cheer me up, but, alas, there was no band-aid big enough for my broken heart.
Six weeks later:
Chris was working as a waiter at a nearby restaurant, so I went and hung out at his house until he got off work. He can home around 10pm and we chatted a bit before he announced he wanted to take a walk with me. We liked to walk together most nights but it was unusual he wanted to take one so late in the day. Of course, I said okay and we started our stroll.
Right away I could tell he was nervous. He kept fidgeting with his pockets and was being extra affectionate, constantly holding my hand and putting his arm around me. About a mile into the walk we passed a park bench facing a lake with a beautiful fountain in the middle. We stopped and he asked if I wanted to dance. We danced for a few minutes, while staring deeply into each others' eyes, and then started the walk back to his house.
Naturally, I KNEW this was it. It had all the telltale signs of a proposal and I had no doubt this night would end with him on one knee and me crying beautiful tears of joy.
When we got back to his front yard, he turned and hugged me, looked me in the eyes and said, "I love you, Sara." And then I said, "I love you too, Chris. " Then he said, "Now close your eyes -- I have something I want to give you."
I shut my eyes, my body trembling with excitement for what was about to happen and my mind racing over whether I wanted lilies or peonies at the ceremony. And is it too much of a cliche to walk down the aisle to Wind Beneath My Wings?
He said, "Okay. Open your eyes!" And just as I was about to open them...
A pie to my face.
A chocolate pudding pie. With whipped topping.
I just stood there -- holding my left hand out like a dork -- confused and diamond-less.
About two seconds later, his entire house comes alive with people running towards me holding pies! I screamed and covered my head as pudding pie after pudding pie was thrown at me. Chocolate! Vanilla! Butterscotch! Tapioca! And then everyone turned on each other and started pelting anyone close to them with pie. It was the epitome of a giant sugary food fight.
At one point I remember thinking, "Maybe the ring is IN the pie!" So while everyone else is running out crazy, I’m on my knees digging through mounds of pudding. And after thoroughly searching the ground and my person, I finally admitted to myself that I was not getting engaged that night.
I know, i know. Half of you are thinking, "What a sweet guy that he would go to all that trouble to make you feel included!" And the other half are thinking, "What a douche!"
Yes, all of you are correct.
I did eventually get my ring -- a year later. By then I had stopped yelling "Yes!" every time he reached in his coat pocket to pull out his keys. And I stopped assuming there was a diamond ring in every glass of champagne or piece of cheesecake.
When the time came he actually did propose, it was romantic and completely unexpected. And, more importantly, did not involve any kind of pie whatsoever.