a Friday flashback (by Aaron)

That's right, friends. It's time for another guest blog by my one and only husband. Enjoy.

Let's flashback to...

July 2009...

Whitney cries sometimes.  It’s not often, but when it happens it’s because she is really, really upset.  Or extremely happy.  Or sad.  For example, the time we watched Disney’s “The Fox and the Hound” I think she cried for 65 minutes straight. 

Or like the time she cried during the uplifting, musical number “Hakuna Matata” when we watched “The Lion King” because she was still reeling from Mufasa’s death (which she had witnessed 48 times before in her life).

So, let’s flashback to July of 2009.  This is the time Whitney cried in front of me because I lied to her.  I lied to her face.  And it was completely necessary.

One day, back when Whitney and I were dating, we stopped off at Chick-Fil-A to eat cheaply.  While there, the conversation of getting engaged had come up.  It had been in talks here and there for a few months.  I had, after all, told her that I loved her in February of that year.  So, the next big landmark would be me dropping on one knee and asking her to marry me…with a ring…a diamond ring…in hand. 

There was just one hang up.  I was poor.

So, somehow the conversation came up.  It usually came up tied to something completely random.  She would bring it up, slightly.  It probably went something like this:

“I’d still let you buy comic books if we were married.”

Now, while that is a major plus for a true Batman fan, I also noticed the slight hint of, “if you’d stop buying comic books and saved your money, maybe you could afford a ring and propose already!”

This is where my response would always turn to the negative.  Intentionally.

“So, what you mean is if I’d just make more money and not spend it, I could buy you a ring?  I’ve told you, I’m trying to save for it.”

She defends: “No, I wasn’t saying anything like that.  I just really want to be engaged to you.”

I know.  And I did too.  In fact, the ring was already purchased a few months ago.  It was hiding in my bedroom closet.  But she couldn’t know that.

I continued, “Look.  I feel like you bring this up all the time (she didn’t) and it’s always about money (it wasn’t) and I can’t afford it right now (I could).  I just feel like you are pressuring me (she wasn’t) and the idea of talking to your parents freaks me out (I had already talked to them).”

Cue waterworks.

She cried.  In front of me.  And I had to let it happen.  I had to.  As much as I wanted to say, “Just kidding.  There’s a ring box buried under my socks at home.  Your parents LOVE me.  Let’s get married!” I couldn’t.

We left there, after a while, and I dug some change out of my pocket.  I placed it in the center console of my car.

“There.  This will be the ring fund.  Any change, or any spare cash, I’ll put in here.”

For the next several weeks, I would add more change and say, “For the ring fund!”

I think it was up to about $5.28 on the fateful day when I placed a humble diamond on the girl of my dreams. 

She cried then too, but it was the happy kind. 

Those kinds of tears, I don’t mind so much.  

The End.