Some women complain that their men are too needy. Some women complain that their men don't romance them enough. I've dated men that I was able to endlessly complain about, that's why there are so many entries in this blog.
As women, we are so used to comparing our lives, relationships, and men to movies and reality TV shows. Comparing your man to Dr. McDreamy or wishing that the Bachelor would give you the final rose does nothing but blind you from all the little things - the good little things that our men do for us on a daily basis.
It is one of those little things that I'm writing about today.
The other day, I had asked my Muffin to help me rotate our King size mattress. It's a job for 2 people. I've been working out at the gym a lot lately but I'm still not buff enough to carry the floppy memory foam mattress on my own. He had recently hurt his knee playing basketball, so he hobbled into the bedroom, ready to help me.
We have a metal frame that the memory foam mattress sits on. Under that, usually, there isn't much. 2 suitcases, a box of Christmas decorations, a few pairs of Muffin's shoes, and dust. But not too much dust, I'd never let that happen.
But this time, things were different. When we rotated the mattress, the bed-skirt bunched up all kinds of crazy to reveal to me several rocks under the bed. I looked at the rocks, I looked at Muffin. I knew he had something to do with this.
Muffin has an affinity towards crystals, energy, and all things spiritual. He has a pretty big collection of crystals and the guest room and his closet is where they are all housed. He has me carry one around in my purse, but it's so small that I forget that it's there most of the time. I think his passion for them is endearing. It's something that I love about him. He whole heartily believes in crystals healing powers. Different crystals do different things, if you ask him, he would talk your ears off about it.
Well, the crystal collection had moved from out of just his designated areas to under our bed. There was a medium sized rock under where my head lays, several crystals on platforms under where his head lays, a giant crystal, the size of a cantaloupe in the center, and more crystals by our feet. I thought it was the weirdest thing ever. I was so surprised since I had no idea they had been under our bed!
I asked him why he put crystals under our bed. He said it was to help us sleep better. He reminded me that I had been sleeping better lately - I didn't have the heart to tell him it was my Zyrtec-D that makes me sleepy. He told me that he had made a grid of crystals under the bed so that we would sleep better, be kept safe, have better energy, get along more, etc. His list of reasons was long and very sweet.
After we rotated the bed, I immediately texted my friends to let them know of my weird discovery. Obviously, we laughed and I made a joke out of it! There were rocks under my bed that I had not know about, strategically placed by my very own weirdo.
That night, as we lay in bed, I couldn't help but think of the crystals. Now that I know they're there, now that I know they were strategically placed under me, I couldn't help but love my Muffin even more. What he did might have been weird to me. I might not understand why he did it, and I may not feel the benefits from any of it. But he did it for for us. He put those crystals under the bed with the intent to better our sleep and our relationship.
Sometimes we may not think our men do enough, say they love us enough, tell us we're pretty at the right moments. But sometimes, we overlook the smallest gestures of their love because we are too busy being negative douche-bags.
Lesson Learned:
As long as there are no crack rocks under your bed, you will sleep easy.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
It's all so clear now...
This is not a blog about a horrible date or some dreaded fool who tried to woo me and or my pants off. This blog is going to be cheesy. It's going to be annoying. But you're going to read it. Because you love me.
This blog is about the day my entire life made sense. The day I found my wedding dress. As most of you know, I am engaged to Muffin. He is by far, the best man I've ever laid my eyes on. This is not a blog about how amazing he is, mostly because that would make the blog about him and not ME and we cant have that.
I am really excited to get married. I am NOT excited to have a wedding. Blending Assyrian, Iranian, Lebanese, and African American family for 5-6 hours is overwhelming. I plan to have an open bar - this was not done to please the guests, it is specifically for me. If you are lucky, I will share.
After several years of watching Say Yes To The Dress on TLC, every Friday night, while texting my best friend, I decided that I would fly to NYC to try on bridal gowns at Kleinfeld's. This was the best decision I have ever made- outside of the time I decided to NOT get Ricky Martin's face tattooed on my body.
In my life, I have had 4 serious boyfriends, Muffin being the fourth. My first boyfriend, he was a dud. Much like the first wedding dress I tried on. He seemed to be what I wanted, but I was young, and naive, and he drove an ice cream truck.... And I like ice cream, so we were happy. The first dress I tried on was nice, it was what I thought I wanted, it looked like Vanilla Ice Cream, but it wasn't THE ONE.
My second boyfriend, he was better than the first. He was tall, he was handsome, he had swag dripping from every pore of his ever so beautiful body. But, he was too much for me. His ego was bigger than my svelte ass which led to the inevitable breakup. The second dress I tried on was better than the first. It was more intricate. It was beautiful on the hanger, but on me, it wasn't right. On to the next.
My third boyfriend. He was my world. He had me laughing from day one. He was a manly man. A guys kind of guy. I was emotionally invested in number 3. I could have married number 3, had he not already been married and fathered a small tribe of children. The third dress I tried on was amazing. It was beautiful. I stood in front of the mirror, with my best friend and bridesmaid standing beside me, and I looked at myself and cried. The ugly cry. Where you cant stop the horrendous look on your face or the amount of tears from spewing out. It wasn't because the dress was THE ONE, but because I had never looked in the mirror and thought "Damn Michelle, you are stunning." Not until that moment. I had a serious moment. I needed a few tissues. The people outside of my dressing room all gushed over me. They all thought my dress was perfect. But I knew, much like boyfriend number 3, it was close, but not perfect.
My muffin. He is my fourth and last boyfriend. He is the man that asked my father to marry me. He is the man that I've built a home with. He is my home. He is the one that has helped me time after time, is always uplifting, has never once put me down. Muffin, he's perfect for me. And so was the fourth dress. After having such a moment with the previous dress, the sales consultant was sure I'd buy the 3rd dress. But I told her I wanted to try on one more. I'm so glad I did.
She had me step into the dress and before she was able to fully put it on me, I knew. This was my dress! It was perfect. Everything I had ever wanted. The 28 years I've spent dreaming of the day I'd be a bride were now a reality. I had found the most beautiful dress for me and with a sound mind and heart, I said YES to the dress!
Up until this point, my blog has been about men who tried to be the one. All the dates, the stories, the jokes, all the words in this blog had a purpose. To lead me to my Muffin.
I'm not going to lie, sometimes I do wish that my life was still as wild and crazy as it used to be. Sometimes I wish I had more to write about. But at the end of the day, I've never been happier. I've never been more sure that I'm doing something great with my life.
To all of those looking for love.... You might have to go on a few (or several hundred) bad dates to find your one and only. And when you do find them, you'll look back and be grateful for every single one of the freaks who tried to win your heart.
Lesson Learned:
Don't hate on the uglies, the weirds, the freaks, the awkward people who come into your life - they will all lead you to your one and only. But also, don't hump them. That would be gross.
This blog is about the day my entire life made sense. The day I found my wedding dress. As most of you know, I am engaged to Muffin. He is by far, the best man I've ever laid my eyes on. This is not a blog about how amazing he is, mostly because that would make the blog about him and not ME and we cant have that.
I am really excited to get married. I am NOT excited to have a wedding. Blending Assyrian, Iranian, Lebanese, and African American family for 5-6 hours is overwhelming. I plan to have an open bar - this was not done to please the guests, it is specifically for me. If you are lucky, I will share.
After several years of watching Say Yes To The Dress on TLC, every Friday night, while texting my best friend, I decided that I would fly to NYC to try on bridal gowns at Kleinfeld's. This was the best decision I have ever made- outside of the time I decided to NOT get Ricky Martin's face tattooed on my body.
In my life, I have had 4 serious boyfriends, Muffin being the fourth. My first boyfriend, he was a dud. Much like the first wedding dress I tried on. He seemed to be what I wanted, but I was young, and naive, and he drove an ice cream truck.... And I like ice cream, so we were happy. The first dress I tried on was nice, it was what I thought I wanted, it looked like Vanilla Ice Cream, but it wasn't THE ONE.
My second boyfriend, he was better than the first. He was tall, he was handsome, he had swag dripping from every pore of his ever so beautiful body. But, he was too much for me. His ego was bigger than my svelte ass which led to the inevitable breakup. The second dress I tried on was better than the first. It was more intricate. It was beautiful on the hanger, but on me, it wasn't right. On to the next.
My third boyfriend. He was my world. He had me laughing from day one. He was a manly man. A guys kind of guy. I was emotionally invested in number 3. I could have married number 3, had he not already been married and fathered a small tribe of children. The third dress I tried on was amazing. It was beautiful. I stood in front of the mirror, with my best friend and bridesmaid standing beside me, and I looked at myself and cried. The ugly cry. Where you cant stop the horrendous look on your face or the amount of tears from spewing out. It wasn't because the dress was THE ONE, but because I had never looked in the mirror and thought "Damn Michelle, you are stunning." Not until that moment. I had a serious moment. I needed a few tissues. The people outside of my dressing room all gushed over me. They all thought my dress was perfect. But I knew, much like boyfriend number 3, it was close, but not perfect.
My muffin. He is my fourth and last boyfriend. He is the man that asked my father to marry me. He is the man that I've built a home with. He is my home. He is the one that has helped me time after time, is always uplifting, has never once put me down. Muffin, he's perfect for me. And so was the fourth dress. After having such a moment with the previous dress, the sales consultant was sure I'd buy the 3rd dress. But I told her I wanted to try on one more. I'm so glad I did.
She had me step into the dress and before she was able to fully put it on me, I knew. This was my dress! It was perfect. Everything I had ever wanted. The 28 years I've spent dreaming of the day I'd be a bride were now a reality. I had found the most beautiful dress for me and with a sound mind and heart, I said YES to the dress!
Up until this point, my blog has been about men who tried to be the one. All the dates, the stories, the jokes, all the words in this blog had a purpose. To lead me to my Muffin.
I'm not going to lie, sometimes I do wish that my life was still as wild and crazy as it used to be. Sometimes I wish I had more to write about. But at the end of the day, I've never been happier. I've never been more sure that I'm doing something great with my life.
To all of those looking for love.... You might have to go on a few (or several hundred) bad dates to find your one and only. And when you do find them, you'll look back and be grateful for every single one of the freaks who tried to win your heart.
Lesson Learned:
Don't hate on the uglies, the weirds, the freaks, the awkward people who come into your life - they will all lead you to your one and only. But also, don't hump them. That would be gross.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Twerkin It
Being an avid BET late night music video watcher, I have picked up a few dance moves over the years. Most notably, the Twerk. Not to be confused with the Jerk, the Dougie, or any other dance that requires clothing. This is a dance of seduction.
Basically, it involves you vigorously shaking your ass like a stripper. How do you know you're doing it right? Push your ass out as far as it can go, shake as hard as you can, and if your lower back begins to feel as though it's going to snap in half, you know you're doing a good job!
I had yet to debut my Twerking skills to my Muffin. It's the kind of dance you keep at home, for your man, but its also the kind of dance that requires months of practice. Once I felt that my Twerking was perfect, I would seduce my muffin and show him how lucky he is to have wifed me up.
The other day, Muffin and I were both in the bathroom. I was in the shower, he was trimming his beautiful facial hairs over the sink and getting water spots all over the mirror, as usual. I had turned the iPod on before I hopped in for my morning scrub. I like to pretend I'm in a music video while showering. I try to mimic the video hoochies that are standing under waterfalls, posing and dancing all kinds of sexy. While they may be getting paid to do that, I'm getting clean!
My iPod playlist consists of pretty much the most random music on earth. Country, Rap, Spanish, Arabic, Jazz, you name it, its on my iPod. That morning, it started off with a few slower songs, then came a hard core rap song. The kind of song that makes you want to dance. The kind that made me rip open the shower curtain and start Twerking.
Obviously, I'm not shy. I never have been and even though I know I should probably have a little more humility in my life, I find nothing wrong with dancing, in the shower, for your soon to be husband. So, I really decided to go for it. If I was going to Twerk, I was going to be the best damn Twerker that Muffin would ever see. I saw Muffin looking out of the corner of his eye. He was pretending to be too busy to notice, too busy trimming his 11 chin hairs, but I knew he liked what he was saw. Those girls in the music videos have NOTHING on me.
Except better balance.
Dancing in the shower has one major problem. It's slippery. My butt was shaking so vigorously that I lost my footing and hit my head on the ledge that the soap and shampoo bottles are supposed to sit on. Being the professional that I am, I didn't let that ruin my routine. I acted as though it was supposed to happen, slowly, and seductively closed the shower curtain. Then I held my forehead as tight as I could and sat down in the shower rocking my self back and forth.
Muffin saw me Twerkin as best I could. He was not going to see me sitting in the tub looking like a helpless fat baby.
Lesson Learned:
It is much safer to watch music videos with your man than to try to replicate them... in the shower.
Basically, it involves you vigorously shaking your ass like a stripper. How do you know you're doing it right? Push your ass out as far as it can go, shake as hard as you can, and if your lower back begins to feel as though it's going to snap in half, you know you're doing a good job!
I had yet to debut my Twerking skills to my Muffin. It's the kind of dance you keep at home, for your man, but its also the kind of dance that requires months of practice. Once I felt that my Twerking was perfect, I would seduce my muffin and show him how lucky he is to have wifed me up.
The other day, Muffin and I were both in the bathroom. I was in the shower, he was trimming his beautiful facial hairs over the sink and getting water spots all over the mirror, as usual. I had turned the iPod on before I hopped in for my morning scrub. I like to pretend I'm in a music video while showering. I try to mimic the video hoochies that are standing under waterfalls, posing and dancing all kinds of sexy. While they may be getting paid to do that, I'm getting clean!
My iPod playlist consists of pretty much the most random music on earth. Country, Rap, Spanish, Arabic, Jazz, you name it, its on my iPod. That morning, it started off with a few slower songs, then came a hard core rap song. The kind of song that makes you want to dance. The kind that made me rip open the shower curtain and start Twerking.
Obviously, I'm not shy. I never have been and even though I know I should probably have a little more humility in my life, I find nothing wrong with dancing, in the shower, for your soon to be husband. So, I really decided to go for it. If I was going to Twerk, I was going to be the best damn Twerker that Muffin would ever see. I saw Muffin looking out of the corner of his eye. He was pretending to be too busy to notice, too busy trimming his 11 chin hairs, but I knew he liked what he was saw. Those girls in the music videos have NOTHING on me.
Except better balance.
Dancing in the shower has one major problem. It's slippery. My butt was shaking so vigorously that I lost my footing and hit my head on the ledge that the soap and shampoo bottles are supposed to sit on. Being the professional that I am, I didn't let that ruin my routine. I acted as though it was supposed to happen, slowly, and seductively closed the shower curtain. Then I held my forehead as tight as I could and sat down in the shower rocking my self back and forth.
Muffin saw me Twerkin as best I could. He was not going to see me sitting in the tub looking like a helpless fat baby.
Obviously, this is not a video of ME Twerkin. I'm way better at it.
Lesson Learned:
It is much safer to watch music videos with your man than to try to replicate them... in the shower.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Water Torture
Those of you that know me know that I am a neat freak. Growing up, I was raised by a Cleaning Cop, with major OCD, so there was never one corner of the house that wasn't sanitized, dusted, and wiped down with bleach for good measure. On the weekends, my job was to clean the mirrors and windows. Most people clean their windows a few times a year. I, however, was forced to do this 52 times a year. Growing up, our house was pretty big, had 3 glass sliding doors, and the entire kitchen had glass walls that looked into the backyard. It was a giant glass house and I was responsible for keeping it streak free.
I never realized that all that cleaning of glass transferred into my adult life. Only living on my own, my place was always clean, organized and streak free. This, however changed 4 months ago. While I've been on many dates, I have never lived with a man... until now. Muffin and I moved in together 4 months ago and it has been one lesson after another.
I have learned that after he comes home from work, my Muffin enjoys spending about an hour, playing his playstation games, while on the toilet. I consider this his well deserved "me" time after a long days work. I've also learned that he is the world's slowest laundry folder. Literally, in the time it takes me to fold an entire load of laundry, he has folded 3 shirts. He calls it "precision folding". I call it slight retardation. Aside from the small things that drive me crazy, living with Muffin has its upside. He always makes the bed, takes the trash out, and kill spiders when necessary. There is way more good than bad, so I cant really complain.
However amazing he may be, Muffin does something so repulsive, so disgusting, so absolutely disrespectful that I need to blog about it. I'm not sure why, but this man is the King of Water Spots. While brushing his teeth, washing his face, or even just walking past the bathroom, he manages to get water spots ALL over the mirror in the bathroom. I'm not just talking about 2-3 random spots, I'm talking about 30-50 spots. Yes, I've counted.
It's not just the spots. Its the fact that whenever he gets out of the bathroom, there is water on the counter, the floor, and the mirror. I honestly think that he tries to fit his entire body into the bathroom sink to take a bird bath, then gets out and shakes himself vigorously to dry. That is the only explanation I can come up with. What baffles me the most is that God made this man, so precise, so accurate, with the ability to pee while standing up, into a small bowl, but he is unable to wash his hands without a tidal wave destroying my smudge free mirror? It's just so frustrating.
This began to frustrate me so much, I told some of my friends about it. Little did I know that all of their boyfriends, husbands, brothers, male roommates did this same thing! Maybe it's a claiming of territory thing men do. A dog pees on things, a man gets water spots on every thing.
Since Muffin and I have only lived together a few months, I don't want to seem like a nag. I don't want to constantly hound him about being dirty and disgusting. That will start after the wedding. So, I try my best to just be patient and clean the spots whenever I see them. Usually right after I've spent 15 minutes cleaning the mirror, Windex-ing til my heart is happy, Muffin will deface my newly cleaned mirror and I cant help but throw a fit. I've literally dragged him into the bathroom, shown him water spots to which he responds "Babe, I don't see anything!" or my favorite response, "Babe, that's natural. At least you know I'm clean!"
I know I'm truly blessed and I'm super grateful for a man like Muffin to share my life with. He's super supportive and kind, he's always making me laugh and smile, he constantly tells me I'm the best, most beautiful person on earth. (which obviously isn't hard to do since it's the truth) He is my best friend. I never thought I'd be so lucky. But why God, WHY? Why must he torture me this way?!
Lesson Learned:
If you don't want water spots on your mirror, marry a woman.
I never realized that all that cleaning of glass transferred into my adult life. Only living on my own, my place was always clean, organized and streak free. This, however changed 4 months ago. While I've been on many dates, I have never lived with a man... until now. Muffin and I moved in together 4 months ago and it has been one lesson after another.
I have learned that after he comes home from work, my Muffin enjoys spending about an hour, playing his playstation games, while on the toilet. I consider this his well deserved "me" time after a long days work. I've also learned that he is the world's slowest laundry folder. Literally, in the time it takes me to fold an entire load of laundry, he has folded 3 shirts. He calls it "precision folding". I call it slight retardation. Aside from the small things that drive me crazy, living with Muffin has its upside. He always makes the bed, takes the trash out, and kill spiders when necessary. There is way more good than bad, so I cant really complain.
However amazing he may be, Muffin does something so repulsive, so disgusting, so absolutely disrespectful that I need to blog about it. I'm not sure why, but this man is the King of Water Spots. While brushing his teeth, washing his face, or even just walking past the bathroom, he manages to get water spots ALL over the mirror in the bathroom. I'm not just talking about 2-3 random spots, I'm talking about 30-50 spots. Yes, I've counted.
It's not just the spots. Its the fact that whenever he gets out of the bathroom, there is water on the counter, the floor, and the mirror. I honestly think that he tries to fit his entire body into the bathroom sink to take a bird bath, then gets out and shakes himself vigorously to dry. That is the only explanation I can come up with. What baffles me the most is that God made this man, so precise, so accurate, with the ability to pee while standing up, into a small bowl, but he is unable to wash his hands without a tidal wave destroying my smudge free mirror? It's just so frustrating.
This began to frustrate me so much, I told some of my friends about it. Little did I know that all of their boyfriends, husbands, brothers, male roommates did this same thing! Maybe it's a claiming of territory thing men do. A dog pees on things, a man gets water spots on every thing.
Since Muffin and I have only lived together a few months, I don't want to seem like a nag. I don't want to constantly hound him about being dirty and disgusting. That will start after the wedding. So, I try my best to just be patient and clean the spots whenever I see them. Usually right after I've spent 15 minutes cleaning the mirror, Windex-ing til my heart is happy, Muffin will deface my newly cleaned mirror and I cant help but throw a fit. I've literally dragged him into the bathroom, shown him water spots to which he responds "Babe, I don't see anything!" or my favorite response, "Babe, that's natural. At least you know I'm clean!"
I know I'm truly blessed and I'm super grateful for a man like Muffin to share my life with. He's super supportive and kind, he's always making me laugh and smile, he constantly tells me I'm the best, most beautiful person on earth. (which obviously isn't hard to do since it's the truth) He is my best friend. I never thought I'd be so lucky. But why God, WHY? Why must he torture me this way?!
Lesson Learned:
If you don't want water spots on your mirror, marry a woman.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Let's Get Married!
Every girl has, at some point in her life, imagined how she will be proposed to. Being the dramatic princess that I am, I knew that it was going to be grandiose. I had always envisioned being whisked away on a romantic weekend getaway, the man of my dreams getting down on one knee as the sun sets off in the distance. I figured I'd be wearing a ballgown, with my hair blowing in the wind as he professes his love for me, tears in his eyes, tears streaming down my face, the sweet ocean breeze wrapping itself around us as I say yes and leap into his arms. I had no other vision for my proposal.
I met Muffin 6 years ago. His ability to wear a suit drove me wild. I was young, he was newly single, and I fell so madly in love with him I scared him into the friendship zone. There was something so genuine about him that I didn't care that we were just friends. I knew that he was supposed to be in my life - in any shape or form. I really cant recall what turned our friendship into romance, but somehow we found ourselves knee deep in love. We had talked about getting married, about future children and even tried picking out names for our imaginary family. So far the only things we can agree on are Sha'Diamond and Velocity for the girls and Ja'Michael for the boy. We're very classy.
I figured that because my Muffin takes forever to do anything - waking up, brushing his teeth, cleaning, driving, sleeping - we wouldn't be engaged for years. I figured in 5 years, he'd have no choice but to marry me. I never saw it coming. I had absolutely no clue that it would happen so soon.
I had taken a trip to Chicago to visit my family and to see Ricky Martin. Yes, I still love him. And yes, I know he's gay. I had planned to stay a few days but was having such a great time, I extended my stay to over a week. Even though Chicago blood runs through my veins, I have transformed into a California girl and the cold weather, snow, and rain froze me to the core and infected my sinuses to the max. The day that I flew home, I was doped up on nasal spray, cough drops, and Nyquil. I couldn't wait to get home and lay in my own bed, pull the covers over my head, curl up in fetal position and sleep until I felt normal again.
When we landed in California, I turned on my cell phone to call my Muffin to alert him to get in his chariot and pick my sweet ass up. I had several texts messages waiting for me and as I waited for people to deplane, I quickly read through them. One stood out. A message from Muffin's aunt in Detroit congratulating me, asking if the wedding bells would be ringing soon. I was confused.
I immediately call my cousin freaking out. He told me that he had no idea what I was talking about. Then I called my friends. No one knew anything. But why would his aunt congratulate me? Maybe she texted the wrong person? I begin to freak out. I'm too sick to be proposed to. Is he going to be at the baggage claim, ring in hand, asking me to marry him with snot running down my face? I was terrified.
I got my bags and waited outside. I was so nervous. When Muffin pulled up, he got out and he was dressed up. My heart began to race. I hugged and kissed him, got into the car, searched the back seat for any signs of a proposal but there was nothing to be found. We got home, I went to the bathroom to compose myself, wash my face, and pop multiple Nyquil pills. I literally could not hear, my nose was completely congested, and I had the worst headache ever. The flight home had amplified my sinus infection to the extreme and I was miserable.
I come out of the bathroom and see that my Muffin is anxiously waiting for me in the kitchen. He tells me that he had spoken to my father while I was in Chicago about us moving in together. I had tasked him with telling my father about our decision because I figured if my father didnt like it, he would kill Muffin and I'd still be safe. I asked what he said, how he reacted, what happened, and Muffin told me he wrote down everything that was said in a letter. He had put it in the new bookshelf he bought and put together for me while I was out of town. He had placed it in a book he had given to me when we had first started dating.
As I picked the book up, I saw a ring box behind the book. I knew it was happening. I was shocked. I was sick. I was deaf, and everything was happening too fast. He came over to me, said a bunch of nice things that I couldn't hear through the congestion. Inside the box was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. He asked me to marry him and put the ring on my finger. I said "are you serious? are you sure? no, really? oh my god. seriously?" for about 2 minutes before I said yes.
I then jumped up and down while screaming. I was the happiest girl in the world. I called my parents, my friends, and in about 20 minutes, I began to feel the Nyquil.
I never in my life thought I would be proposed to, while miserably sick with a sinus infection and deaf from my ears being plugged after a plane ride home. I never thought I'd be immediately sleepy after being proposed to because I tripled the recommended dose of Nyquil. Literally 20 minutes after my Muffin proposed, I was in bed.... asleep... and probably snoring.
It was nothing like what I had imaged, but it was perfect. For my blog.
Lesson Learned:
Don't dream too big. Your sinuses will get too congested at extremely high elevations.
I met Muffin 6 years ago. His ability to wear a suit drove me wild. I was young, he was newly single, and I fell so madly in love with him I scared him into the friendship zone. There was something so genuine about him that I didn't care that we were just friends. I knew that he was supposed to be in my life - in any shape or form. I really cant recall what turned our friendship into romance, but somehow we found ourselves knee deep in love. We had talked about getting married, about future children and even tried picking out names for our imaginary family. So far the only things we can agree on are Sha'Diamond and Velocity for the girls and Ja'Michael for the boy. We're very classy.
I figured that because my Muffin takes forever to do anything - waking up, brushing his teeth, cleaning, driving, sleeping - we wouldn't be engaged for years. I figured in 5 years, he'd have no choice but to marry me. I never saw it coming. I had absolutely no clue that it would happen so soon.
I had taken a trip to Chicago to visit my family and to see Ricky Martin. Yes, I still love him. And yes, I know he's gay. I had planned to stay a few days but was having such a great time, I extended my stay to over a week. Even though Chicago blood runs through my veins, I have transformed into a California girl and the cold weather, snow, and rain froze me to the core and infected my sinuses to the max. The day that I flew home, I was doped up on nasal spray, cough drops, and Nyquil. I couldn't wait to get home and lay in my own bed, pull the covers over my head, curl up in fetal position and sleep until I felt normal again.
When we landed in California, I turned on my cell phone to call my Muffin to alert him to get in his chariot and pick my sweet ass up. I had several texts messages waiting for me and as I waited for people to deplane, I quickly read through them. One stood out. A message from Muffin's aunt in Detroit congratulating me, asking if the wedding bells would be ringing soon. I was confused.
I immediately call my cousin freaking out. He told me that he had no idea what I was talking about. Then I called my friends. No one knew anything. But why would his aunt congratulate me? Maybe she texted the wrong person? I begin to freak out. I'm too sick to be proposed to. Is he going to be at the baggage claim, ring in hand, asking me to marry him with snot running down my face? I was terrified.
I got my bags and waited outside. I was so nervous. When Muffin pulled up, he got out and he was dressed up. My heart began to race. I hugged and kissed him, got into the car, searched the back seat for any signs of a proposal but there was nothing to be found. We got home, I went to the bathroom to compose myself, wash my face, and pop multiple Nyquil pills. I literally could not hear, my nose was completely congested, and I had the worst headache ever. The flight home had amplified my sinus infection to the extreme and I was miserable.
I come out of the bathroom and see that my Muffin is anxiously waiting for me in the kitchen. He tells me that he had spoken to my father while I was in Chicago about us moving in together. I had tasked him with telling my father about our decision because I figured if my father didnt like it, he would kill Muffin and I'd still be safe. I asked what he said, how he reacted, what happened, and Muffin told me he wrote down everything that was said in a letter. He had put it in the new bookshelf he bought and put together for me while I was out of town. He had placed it in a book he had given to me when we had first started dating.
As I picked the book up, I saw a ring box behind the book. I knew it was happening. I was shocked. I was sick. I was deaf, and everything was happening too fast. He came over to me, said a bunch of nice things that I couldn't hear through the congestion. Inside the box was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. He asked me to marry him and put the ring on my finger. I said "are you serious? are you sure? no, really? oh my god. seriously?" for about 2 minutes before I said yes.
I then jumped up and down while screaming. I was the happiest girl in the world. I called my parents, my friends, and in about 20 minutes, I began to feel the Nyquil.
I never in my life thought I would be proposed to, while miserably sick with a sinus infection and deaf from my ears being plugged after a plane ride home. I never thought I'd be immediately sleepy after being proposed to because I tripled the recommended dose of Nyquil. Literally 20 minutes after my Muffin proposed, I was in bed.... asleep... and probably snoring.
It was nothing like what I had imaged, but it was perfect. For my blog.
Lesson Learned:
Don't dream too big. Your sinuses will get too congested at extremely high elevations.
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