When I met Jaclyn on eHarmony, I knew she was special. She looked like my kind of a girl, the kind who takes her clothes off at the sound of my voice.
I was right. So I decided to marry her.
When shopping for a ring, I nearly puked for two reasons: 1) the damn things are so freekin’ expensive; and 2) the diamond meant I’d no longer have “relations” with other broads.
Of course, I didn’t tell Jaclyn’s mom these things when we were shopping for rings behind Jax’s back. Her mom thinks I’m an angel and perfect for her daughter. I agree.
When I finally found the perfect rock, angels from above opened the jeweler’s roof and shot a beam of light directly over the flawless stone.
Then, the salesman reached into my pockets (and then my checkbook and later my credit card) and guided me to find the perfect setting for my baby, who is an acupuncturist and didn’t want anything too gaudy.
“It’s the perfect ring,” the salesman said. “How do you plan to ask her,” the man asked.
“I’m gonna put it on a hot dog,” I said.
“A hot dog,” he said in disbelief. “You better be careful. You don’t want her eating it.”
To prevent her eating a multi-thousand-dollar rock, I placed the engagement hot dog in the microwave. For dinner, I served cold tai noodles and wieners, hoping she’d pop her bowl in the microwave and discover the ring and “will you marry me, Jaclyn?” sign. But she didn’t. “I like them cold,” she said.
I then begged her to warm my bowl of noodles. “But you made dinner. This is my night. You’re supposed to do it,” she said.
“But baby, I worked so hard on these noodles,” I said, pointing at the store-bought entrée. “Please.” I made my puppy-dog face and she caved to my cuteness.
“Fine. You are such an opportunist, you know that,” she said, grabbing my bowl of noodles and walking toward the microwave.
When she opened the door, she laughed and ran toward me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. She jumped up and down a lot. And hugged me and kissed. All the while, my stomach was turning. I almost puked again.
I am getting married.
-Fred
