|Clear your calendar...|
Clear your calendar...
Jul. 27th, 2006 @ 10:07 am
|extreme whiskey-related illness less than 6 months after we met.
OK, there's a story there I *need* to know, I think! *g*
Thanks - and, yeah, it was fast, but...it's right, y'know?
Well, we met in January 05 after some friendly (non-flirtatious!) messaging on Myspace.
Fast forward to a July 4 party. It was a bunch of his friends/our friends/coworkers/coworkers friends. There was a lot of booze there. We brought a bottle of Wild Turkey 101, and managed to drink nearly all of it between the two of us since the other options were sweet vodka cocktails and gin-based drinks. No sugar, no juniper berries, thanks.
The next day, when we finally woke up, we were both severely ill. Like barely able to move, need to turn off the sun, completely dehydrated and with splitting headaches ill. At one point, he was sitting in the bathtub in the dark with the shower running, and I needed to come in and throw up. I slumped on the bathroom rug, he remained sacked out in the shower, and we both tried not to puke because we knew it would set off a neverending chain reaction of vomiting between the two of us. When we were finally able to move enough to get back in bed, chills, nausea, headaches, wet hair and all, we cuddled miserably and he smoothed the filthy, greasy hair back off my forehead and asked me if I wanted to marry him.
Definitely not the romantic proposal I had always thought was somewhere in my future as a girl, but pragmatic and somehow totally right for the two of us. He's still saving up for my real ring, and hopefully we'll be able to get the diamonds his stepmother gave him reset by Christmas this year.
I must say, romantic proposals are over-rated....nice, but not all that.
*You* have a great story - and you'll always laugh over it. *That's* worth it's weight in gold! *g*
We often joke about the stories we'll tell our grandkids about meeting and getting engaged and all that. Definitely not anything like the stories our families had to tell!
Most of our friends that he works with don't know how we met--he always makes up new stories every time they ask. I think the latest tale involves a hot air balloon race and a hair-raising resuce from a flaming passenger basket.
Since Myspace has gotten huge and filled with rapists and pedophiles, it seems better not to tell people. Even my family doesn't know, because they staunchly believe that the internet is the source of all evil.
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