How can I possibly share my wedding journey with you if I don’t even tell you about how it started??
Well, I hope you can forgive me because that’s not what this post is going to be about. I was actually going to explain to you how we started venue hunting in this post, but I am easily distracted and it somehow morphed into the story of the night Mr. Coyote hung me out to dry.
I guarantee it’s way better than talking about venues, so I hope you enjoy this little detour.
The real story begins in 2005, but it would take me like 6 years to tell you that story (I tell stories like Ted Mosby) so I’m going to be really random and start somewhere else. I’m not even going to tell you about the night he proposed. Okay… I swear I will share that story with you eventually, but for now here’s a sneak peak:
[Personal Photo]
The night we got engaged. Aren't we adorable??
Of course, as soon as he popped the question I called my parents to share the wonderful news and a week later we went to visit them.
A celebration was obviously in order and so my parents took us out to dinner. I unfortunately don’t have photos of that night, which is actually kind of a relief for me, but hugely disappointing for you readers.
You see, there is a curse upon my family. We are the epitome of Murphy’s Law.
It mostly affects my father. Whatever well intentioned scenario he has planned (a vacation, a nice dinner, a home improvement project), I can assure you that it can and will blow up in his face.
This is an all too familiar scene in my family.
When my father called to make dinner reservations he mentioned that we were coming to celebrate his daughter’s engagement and could they do anything for her and her fiancé?
Oh, of course they could! They told him that their staff would come by the table and sing “Goin’ to the Chapel” and bring the happy couple a dessert. And don’t you worry sir, they’ll take care of everything!!
Yeah, famous last words.
As we were finishing our dinner one of the restaurant’s employees came running over to our table. And this is what happened:
Restaurant employee (to the diners, but pointing at me): “Hey everyone!! Guess what?! We have a birthday tonight!! It is this young lady’s birthday!!”
Me, staring up at the man in utter confusion: “It’s not my birthday.”
Restaurant employee, who has now revealed himself to be a crazed lunatic: “Oh, look everyone… She’s shy! Let’s make her feel better… Clap your hands!!!”
Me, bewildered and flustered: “It’s not…”
The crazed employee grabs me by my arm, tells me to stand up and leads me to the center of the room.
He then proceeds to run around the dining area singing some weird version of happy birthday, encouraging the other patrons to continue clapping for me, and yelling things like, "Look at how embarrassed she is!" and "Look how red her face is!".
Heck yea my face was red! If the guy could have just put down the happy pills or whatever it was they were feeding him in the kitchen he may have actually heard me say that it was NOT my birthday!
And so, the chaos eventually stopped. The employee thanked me for being such a good sport and gave me a bowl of ice cream (which for some mysterious reason had two spoons in it). Other patrons stopped by my table to wish me a happy birthday. Meanwhile, my darling fiancé is rolling around on the ground laughing like a hyena.
Yep, that’s right. The man that I had chosen to share my life with, my good times and bad, was sitting there hysterically laughing at me and my misfortune.
And then he ate my ice cream.
Although I really can’t blame him. I probably would have done the same thing.
My dad felt terrible. He sat helplessly watching the whole disaster unfold without being about to do a damn thing about it. Happy pill boy was convinced that it was my birthday and there was no stopping him.
Now the icing on the cake?
Just a few minutes later we heard the servers singing “Goin’ to the Chapel” in another area of the restaurant.
And to this day I wonder, what eight year old birthday boy did that insane employee run up to and congratulate on his recent engagement?
So tell me Hive, how did you and your family celebrate your engagement? What it as mortifying as mine?
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