This was in 2003. We had been living together for a few months and I realized that I was enjoying coming home to Deb (and after getting enough hints that she wanted a wedding ring), I decided, what the hell, let's get engaged.
(Later, of course, the whole thing triggered a massive panic attack and nearly broke us up, but I didn't know that. At the moment, it seemed like a good idea.)
Like every man in the world, I knew nothing about jewelry, but lately Deb had been teasing me with jewelry ads, pointing to rings in them and saying, "That'd make a perfect engagement ring." I acted nervous whenever she did it, pretending to squirm. So I took one of the jewelry ads we had gotten in the mail and left it on the dining table. She picked it up, opened it and pointed to a ring with a heart-shaped diamond in it, to tease me. I remembered which one it was and went to the jewelers and got her that ring.
I was planning to take her to Olive Garden on my birthday, which was also the day we met and the day we celebrated as our anniversary. I figured I would wait til we got there, and when the waitress asked us if we knew what we wanted, I'd say something like, "Yes, I do," and get down on my knee with the ring.
The only problems were Deb had to work on my birthday, and I knew she'd hate a public spectacle. So we were going to go on Dec. 7, the day before my birthday. This is, of course, also Pearl Harbor Day, and I figured, OK, if the marriage didn't work out, I could always blame it on getting engaged on Pearl Harbor Day.
The 7th was a Sunday. I was still willing to do the public spectacle thing, but I finally decided I couldn't embarrass her. We were having a late morning. She was downstairs fixing coffee, and I was upstairs in the bedroom trying to compose a speech. I figured out what to say, and the time was as right as it was going to get, so I called down to her, telling her to get upstairs, there was something I needed to ask her. As she was climbing the stairs, I got on my knee in the doorway and held the ring box.
She rounded the corner and saw me. She realized what was happening. Before I could say anything, she came up to me, looked down and with tears beginning to form in her eyes, said, "Yes."
I sighed and told her, "I haven't asked the question yet!"
What I said exactly I can't remember because I was really nervous, but it was along the lines of her making me happier than I ever thought I would ever be or ever deserve to be, and I wanted the chance to make her happy for the rest of her life. She said yes again, and I gave her the ring.
We got dressed and went to Olive Garden, where she proceeded to flash the ring to everyone, from the person taking names for the waiting list, to the waitress, to the food servers, to the other guests.
And I was afraid she didn't want me to make a scene?
Frankly, I was getting embarrassed, if only because I had gotten her the half-carat ring. I told her so, but she told me she was so happy with it she didn't care how big it was, and she kept showing it off like it was as big as her fist.
At the time, I was cringing, but now it makes me happy that I was able to make her that happy. After that, she always liked to tell the story about how I tricked her into picking her engagement ring, and even when she got sick and the ring couldn't fit on her swollen hand, she put it on a chain and wore it.
I had the ring put in the box with her ashes.
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