Makin' The Rounds Part Two
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The Hubby-Man and I dated cautiously for 8 months. I kept expecting him to break up with me in some horrendously humiliating fashion, like at a surprise party in front of all my friends. I'd broken his heart repeatedly, why would he give me another chance? I struggled between loving him with all my soul, and guarding myself against his revenge. Because I would want revenge.

All the Hubby-Man wanted was to spend the rest of his life with me. (sniff.) We eventually discussed marriage, and I had this awful image of walking down an aisle in an overpriced white dress only to have him say, "Psyche!" instead of "I do."
I wanted a sapphire engagement ring, but I also wanted men to understand that I was engaged, so we shopped for diamonds. This was one of the many, many things the Hubby-Man did right. We browsed the stores until he clearly understood what I wanted, and then he wouldn't tell me anything about what he was making payments on. This is the best kind of surprise.
We had a little conflict over size. Men are told to spend 2 month's salary, which would have bought a $3200 ring. That's a lot of diamond. And I (still) wear a size 4. That's a tiny finger. I wanted a quarter carat stone. Simple, elegant, cheap. The Hubby-Man wanted the biggest, most sparkly rock he could afford, so that the whole world would know how much he valued me. He wanted to give me the Hope Diamond, and dress me in the Crown Jewels of every country. I knew this and adored him for it, but I still wanted the tiniest stone in the world. I thought a tenth of a carat would be nice, and a quarter carat was the absolute largest I'd accept. I pleaded with him not to go overboard, telling him I'd rather have a down payment on a house.
All he would say was, "I've chosen your ring, and you'll have to wait a few months."
Five weeks later, we went to see George Carlin at Westport. The Hubby-Man had scored front row tickets.
We were standing in the crowd, waiting to go inside, when he dropped the bomb on me.
I had almost forgotten my fears of revenge, but the little critic in my head was saying, "If he's going to do it, he'll do it tonight. He'll dump you at Westport in front of a famous comedian, and you'll have to walk home in the most uncomfortable heels you own. It's the perfect revenge."
So I'm nervous. And the Hubby-Man seems tense too. Here we are in a crowd of well to-do people, being bumped constantly; and he pulls a box out of his pocket.
Ever observant, I noticed the ring box and thought, "What's he doing? It's too crowded to get down on one knee!"
Now, he and I have differing versions of what happened next. He firmly believes that he opened the box in front of me and asked me if I would marry him. I believe just as firmly that he opened the box and held it out to one side where anybody could steal it, and asked me to marry him. Either way, my response was:

"You're joking, right?"

Immediately followed by, "Yes! I mean yes!" while I tried to simultaneously hug him to death, get the box out of the reach of well to-do thieves, and stand back enough to let him put the ring on my finger.
The rest is kind of blurry. Maybe because I was teary-eyed. There was a point where someone jammed their elbow into my back... There was a point where he was apologizing for buying a bigger diamond than I'd wanted... The ring was definitely in the box at the time... And there was a point where I was wearing the ring and learned that I needed a second pair of eyes in order to gaze adoringly at my fiancee and gaze in wonder at my ring at the same time.

And you know what?
In a crowd of over 300 people; not one person turned to look, or offer their congratulations. They were completely oblivious.
And you know what else?
15 years later, he still gives me roses.

I really, really, really love him with all my being.