"Will you marry me?"
The question every girl wants to be asked. For most women, it brings to mind images of fancy dinners, ball game Jumbotrons, or elaborate surprises with romantic music gently playing in the background.
Not me. I picture a crapper.
Yep, as I've mentioned before, The Firefighter proposed to me in the bathroom of a cruise ship. Because nothing says "I love you" like the scent of cheap knock off Pine Sol and chorus of automatic flushing toilets blasting romantically in the background.
While it was memorable, I'm not gonna lie, it wasn't exactly the special moment I had been dreaming about. To his credit, even the romantically challenged Firefighter didn't "plan" to pop the question on his knees next to a Swisher 1000. As it turns out, my klutzy, nonathletic self had foiled his two earlier attempts to ask me.
Earlier in the week, we had signed up for an exciting shore excursion, in Belize, to a resort that had spelunking and an awesome tree top zip line tour. The Firefighter had planned to propose on the zip line tour, on the middle platform, 50 ft in the air, surrounded by tropical rainforest. Sounds like a great plan, right? He went first and was "preparing" on the platform, as I began to zip down the line. It didn't take me long to figure out my handbrake wasn't working and to begin to holler and frantically motion for him to move. Coming in as fast as I was, I was afraid I would knock his skinny ass off the other side of the 10 ft. platform. The Firefighter quickly assessed what was happening, slid the ring back in his pocket and jumped out of the way.
He wasn't to be deterred though, he just decided he would be waiting to do it at the end of the tour when I repelled down to the ground from the last platform. The Firefighter seriously underestimated my lack of athletic prowess. I had never repelled before, so when the instructor told me to squeeze the handbrake to move down the rope, I did..... only I didn't catch the subtle nuance that you squeeze as hard as the speed you want to go down the rope. So, I squeezed it, hard, opening the handbrake completely and basically propelling myself into a 20ft free fall. I landed unceremoniously on my hinny, spewing all kinds of unladylike profanity, while The Firefighter laughed so hard tears ran down his face. Well, my ego was bruised a little more than my backside, so I didn't take kindly to his laughing and promptly yanked him to the ground and tackled him when he tried to help me up. Yeah, I'm classy like that. Needless to say, that wasn't going to be the moment either.
So, The Firefighter started searching for other times to pop the question. The closer we got to the end of the trip, the more desperate The Firefighter became. It was this desperation, to just have it done with, that prompted him to follow me into the shitter and drop to his knees. He accomplished one goal, it did take me by complete surprise. When it dawned on me what he was doing, I began to laugh, hysterically - kinda like a hyena, complete with snorting. The Firefighter had to ask me twice, I was laughing so hard. Obviously, y'all know what my answer was though I believe it came out something like - head nod, laugh, "yes", snort, laugh. Sexy, huh? That's why he loves me.
So now, six years later, every time I hear an automatic flush, I picture his face shyly and nervously asking me to be in his life forever and yes, I laugh a little too.
Happy Anniversary, Honey! May we have a long life together, and never run out of toilet paper!