Yesterday was February 29th, that dreaded 24 hours when single men decide that staying out-of-the-way of women is probably the best idea they’ve ever had, and hunkering down with a couple of mates in a hotel is the ideal way to spend the day.
As is the tradition in Britain, on February 29th, women are allowed (don’t get me started) to propose to the special man in their life and use this day to rope in their long-suffering boyfriends to make an honest woman of them.
P and I have had the marriage conversation more than once, knowing that it was something we might want in the future, despite both coming from divorced parents (and in my case, grandparents too). We pretty much knew it was going to happen, but when and where was anybodies guess. Well, P’s guess….I had no control over it…..unless…..it was a leap year.
Insert evil laugh.
I never wanted to propose to P. I wanted the traditional proposal. Boy asking girl. I wanted him to ask me. I wanted him to want to ask me.
But coooome on….who could resist a little leap year tomfoolery?
Not me!…I couldn’t resist….what a chance to have him on tenterhooks all day!
First there was the important question I had to ask him in a breathy and serious voice…..
Did he want breakfast? There wasn’t half a sigh of relief after that one.
In fact, I had lined up an entire day of fake proposals…one involving slipping cut out hearts into his archery case (I had them stashed at work!) to terrify him with, just for kicks!
But I was completely thwarted, by the genius that is P.
My second joke proposal was left beside his breakfast. A Party Ring (a childhood party biscuit treat we are VERY fond of in this house) on top of a note that stated..’Would you take me seriously if I proposed to you with a Party Ring?’
That is not the reaction I got.
The sneakbag flipped it on me. Would I take him seriously?
And then birds sang, the villagers cheered and children danced in the streets, as P offered me a Party Ring for my hand in marriage.
I graciously accepted, my just applied mascara running down my face through tears of happiness, followed by promptly scoffing his offered up biscuit treat.
So although I didn’t get my ‘traditonal’ proposal, it was something pretty ‘us’ and pretty damn special. And that is how I became a nearly wife.
Please don’t utter that Fee-On-Say word around us…we get the wibbles.
We ordered the ring today so WATCH THIS SPACE!
Lots of my face hurts through over-grinning love