The Ask

Since it's Valentine's Day I have to tell a romantic, emotional, tear-jerking story from my past.

After a year and a half of dating, I had decided that Lori was the woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She was everything that I wanted in a wife! So, following proper engagement etiquette, I made an appointment to speak to her father. Now, at the time, I didn't know him very well. In fact, I had only been with him a couple of times in my life. So, needless to say, I was a tad bit timorous about approaching him to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage.

We were going to be traveling through Pennsylvania on a band tour, so I asked to speak with him privately following a concert. That evening, with a look of utter sincerity (or maybe it was utter fear) I requested his permission to marry Lori. He didn't smile much. In fact, he didn't smile at all. He cocked his head sideways, gave me a searching look, then asked, "Do you think you can provide for her?" I (not having an idea what the future would hold for me employment-wise) gave an emphatic "You better believe it!" hoping that he wouldn't ask how. After what seemed like an eternity, he gave his assent. Whew! I couldn't stop grinning after that.

I thought that I had overtaken the toughest hurdle and looked forward to popping the big question.

It was a beautiful evening in June when I put my plan together. Earlier in the day, I had slipped flowers and her engagement present up to her apartment (Dave and I would later assemble the present, which is a whole other post) and was prepared for a great evening. I took Lori to our favorite Cincinnati steak destination, Longhorn Steakhouse, and initiated the unfolding of my plans.

Well, maybe the most accurate phrase would be the "unraveling of my plans." I was planning to get on my knees in front of the entire restaurant and in a quixotic moment propose. Well, it didn't happen that way. As I was trying to work up the nerve to carry out my preparations, Lori chose to talk about some of the weirdest stuff in the world, subjects that didn't remotely fit into my anticipated romantic jargon. I kept on trying to get the conversation around to our relationship, but she would have none of it.

OK, change of plans. I thought to myself, "I'll wait until we get out to the car, drop to my knees and ask her in the parking lot." Riiiight. We get out of the restaurant, following fascinating conversation about the names of friend's children, is there life on other planets, and the such. On the way out of Longhorn Lori said, "I have to find a restroom. I'm not feeling well at all." She headed down the hall to the ladies room, leaving me stressed, brainstorming as to how I was going to salvage this moment. I worked myself up so much that I became sick to my stomach and ended up running down to the men's room.

By the time, we staggered out to the car, it was appearing that all of my great plans were ruined. Lori muttered the entire way out to the car about getting back to her own restroom, while I was vainly trying to think of a way to bring the subject back to romantic topics.

I tried to talk her into going to a park in the area, but she wouldn't hear of it. "Just get me home!" she demanded. We are driving down I-71 N towards GBS, and I'm sweating it, knowing that as soon as she walks in she'll see the flowers and the present and my plans will be blown.

I suddenly whipped the wheel to the right and swerved off the road, screeching to a halt. Lori starts asking 20 questions: "Are you speeding? Are you being pulled over? Are you sick? Are you going to throw up? What's wrong?" I calmly said, "Lori, will you marry me?"

She replied with those words that every man proposing wants to hear. "You're crazy! Don't be stupid." I told her, "No, I'm serious. Will you marry me?" "Whatever!" was her reply. After 3 or 4 times of asking, I finally pulled out her engagement present receipt to prove that my proposal was legitimate. She finally said, "Yes".

It's been a great life! Even if I did have to work for it.

So, wipe those tears, and realize that there is hope for you. It can't ever be that bad. Just ask.