A few days before Christmas 2004, my boyfriend of two years took me to a Christmas lights display. It’s no secret that I’m like a toddler in an empty refrigerator box when it comes to Christmas, so the venue was perfection. The icing on the cake was that a portion of the entrance fee went to local animal shelters. Since I prefer dogs to most of the people I know, it was a clutch move on my man’s part.
Everything was storybook beautiful. Shimmering lights reflecting off a fresh blanket of snow like thousands of tiny mirrors. Families bundled in their hats and scarves, huddling together for warmth or for just because. My nose, dripping just enough to necessitate several not-so-subtle snorts so that I looked like Donald Trump during the Presidential debates. Only I have better hair.
Romance at its finest.
After some time of walking around, gloved hand in gloved hand, gnawing on peanut butter fudge, I confided that, despite my layers of clothing, I was uncomfortably cold and recommended we head home where the beer was. It was then that my Mister announced he had to use the bathroom. Of course he did. When I suggested I wait in the car, he got all panicky. The chill was seeping into my bones, no doubt cutting off oxygen to my brain, but sure, honey, you go ahead and drop a deuce while I die a slow death à la Jack Nicholson in The Shining. I reluctantly agreed to hang by the fire where parents were repeatedly shrieking, “Get any closer and you’ll fall in!” to their children.
The romance just kept building.
By the time my boyfriend returned, sixteen hours later, the falling temperatures had turned me into one frozen bitch.
WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!
Uh…there was a line.
That was some line! Are they giving away BJs in there?!! (always classy)
Wanna do one more lap before we leave?
NO!!!!!
So, we left.
Back in the warm car, my heart begins to thaw and I notice the poor, dejected man’s eyes. They seem to be saying, “I’m trying. Go easy on me.”
He confessed: I didn’t go to the bathroom. I actually went to the gift shop. That’s what took me so long.
The panicky look was back on his face. He handed me a small white bag with silky ribbon handles. It looked a little too extravagant for a gift shop, but it didn’t register. Not until I opened the box inside it, saw the gorgeous ring shimmering like the lights on the snow, and yelled real lady-like, THE GIFT SHOP DOESN’T SELL DIAMOND RINGS!! did it register that the man was pledging his undying love to me, and I was basically ruining it.
He pulled over, looked me in the face, and said: I was hoping you would want to be my wife?
Again yelling, I responded with something academic like hells yeah I do!! and then we went home to make a new memory.
Not that kind of memory; the kind where our dog eats my Grandma’s gift, a jumbo-sized Hershey’s Chocolate Bar, and would be dead before Christmas Day unless we pumped her stomach.
Oh yes. We walked in the house to find our dog had eaten through the wrapping paper and bow, and inhaled the milk-chocolatey goodness, also known as poison for dogs. Naturally, I freaked the freak out. My fiancé (squee!! I had a fiancé!) and I stood on the back porch in the frigid night air while our mutt ran around the back yard like Lil’ Wayne on crack. During a small snippet of downtime, the man to whom I would eventually say “I do” thought to attempt gagging our dog with a plastic picnic spoon in hopes of regurgitating the chocolate. In a sudden yet somewhat expected turn of events, the spoon broke and the dog made it her new, jagged chew toy. I freaked out some more.
At approximately 11:30pm, fresh out of gagging ideas, I called our vet on his emergency line, rambling about chocolate–SO MUCH CHOCOLATE–and pointy plastic. A lovely man, our vet, but not so well versed in his English pronunciations of certain words, he was quite difficult to understand over the phone. What I surmised from our conversation, after repeating his every word at volume 100 because that’s how language barriers are broken, was the following:
Hydrogen peroxide…induce vomiting…dog could die…
Okay, got it. At least we were on the right track with the gagging. Force-feeding a mutt hydrogen peroxide would be so much easier, said no one ever. But we had no choice or, on the very night we should’ve been celebrating our engagement, we’d have to bury our dog.
Awesome.
One of the more important details that I did not secure from our vet was the amount of hydrogen peroxide required to make a 60-pound Labrador/Shepherd mix upchuck. Wanting to be thorough, we wrestled her into a scissor hold, pried open her mouth and dumped half a friggin’ bottle of the stuff down her throat.
It worked.
Then it worked some more.
And then some more.
It continued working through Christmas morning.
<Cue angels and bells and bleach>
My new fiancé and I spent the evening we got engaged acting like the parents we would become 5 years later: keeping watch over our baby, aiming her vomit away from the carpet. Our story isn’t perfect, it doesn’t smell all that great, but it’s ours. I like to think that’s a metaphor for our marriage: hilariously imperfect and a little stinky. Also, love.
Make memories of your own at Overly’s Country Christmas (without the barf); each of your visits benefits a local child or animal in need!
Great story, I love it! A night that kept getting better and better. I love the part about making a new memory – not the kind we thought you were alluding to.
Keesha! I love that you’re on my blog right now–you don’t even know 🙂 And that memory? Definitely not what I had in mind, either! 😉
I love that even though it was far from what he planned it turned out to be a perfect way to start a life together!! 🙂
It was good practice for when we had “real” kids: they often ruin plans, barf everywhere, and maintain their adorable factor so well that we can’t even be mad about it. Ahhh love.
Well, you got a hell of a story out of it!
Thanks, Jenn!
Cray-zeee story! At least it’s memorable! Thanks for sharing it!
Thank YOU for reading it!
Not exactly what he planned but a great story all the same. Thanks for sharing Stephanie :).
Lord I HOPE that’s not what he had planned! Bahahahaha!
What do you need with an uber romantic proposal story anyways? They are soooo predictable! I bet no one guessed “oh, I bet they spent the night full of dog vomit”.
Ha! Good point. We’re definitely the exact opposite of umber romantic!
It is a GREAT story and not one bit boring like so many engagement stories!! Awesome.
We strive for anti-boring. I mean we also strive for anti-puke, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I’m reading your reply just above me and laughing! “We strive for anti-boring. I mean we also strive for anti-puke, but beggars can’t be choosers.” So funny. And so true. Love your engagement story! Very cute. Not the dog vomit part, but you know what I’m saying. Great way to start a marriage fer sher. Glad your doggie was okay!
I’m like you, though. Once I pass that limit of coldness, I become viciously bitchy. I would knock old ladies over in the street to find an indoor warm place. Cannot handle the cold. *burr*
Doggie was okay and still kickin’ today! Praise peroxide 🙂
There is just something about the discomfort of the cold that brings out the worst in me. If I’m sweating my face off, it’s cool, but if I’m shivering, look out!!
Hilarious! Love this ! I just got engaged Monday before Xmas and I almost ruined the night by having a headache and saying i wanted to stay in when meanwhile our friends were waiting at the bar with champagne for our impromptu engagement party! Good thing the fiance new to bring water and aspirin and knew how to drag me out for the special moment we had when he proposed in the park before our party 🙂
You just got engaged, like, a week ago?! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!! Oh how FUN! You didn’t ask, but here is my unsolicited advice anyway:
LIVE. IT. UP.
Planning can get stressful; enjoy it. If you’re not, say eff it and take a break. Delegate; you don’t have to do everything yourself. Ask for help. The night of your wedding, steal your man away for a few minutes and slow down long enough to enjoy one another because you’ll blink and the night will be over.
Okay, I’m done. CONGRATS!!!!!!!! xo
Messed up engagement stories are close to my heart, and I’m glad to hear you didn’t freeze to death and your dog didn’t die a chocolaty death. That story wouldn’t have been as funny. Thanks for the peroxide tip!
No death = successful engagements. Boom.
DYING!!! I cannot stop laughing! I expected nothing less from a Stephanie life story. Who needs boring when you can have a story like this! LOVE it!
It’s funny, but so true how many engagements go wrong b/c the girl has no idea & get’s annoyed at the poor guy who’s sweating bullets & scrambling to get everything right but can’t b/c the girl’s too annoyed. It’s horrible your dog got sick on one of the best nights of your life. But it is good practice for kids.
Steph, you are perfect. I love this so much. Babying that puppy with hydrogen peroxide and all? No better way to celebrate the start of a life together, I say.
That is both hysterical and adorable! LOVE that engagement story!
Hysterical and adorable–another metaphor for me! I mean…my marriage 😉
Nice job recapturing the feel of the evening. Good writing. Feels like I was there. Wait…I was!
You already used this line 🙂