The answer is simple, I got married last year.
Before that. . .there was the dating, followed, naturally, by childish giddiness and the wearing of proverbial rose colored glasses (until true colors cast new light); then the breaking and making up; repeat. And . . .
Then negotiations laced with noise about positive changes. "Of course I won't drop my clothes on the floor anymore," and "Yes, I'll do my share of the dishes," and "I agree to take the garbage out regularly," spoken with determination, because when I made those promises they seemed like a good idea at the time.
Finally, the proposal, which went something like this:
Me: You know, babe, it's been six months since we last discussed marriage.
Him: Yeah, I know. I think the groundbreaking [over the last 25 years] has gone well, don't you? Maybe we should progress to the next step: getting the permit.
Me: Ok.
Him: Tomorrow we can take care of that red tape, and get the foundation laid.
Me: Alright-y then, well, should we shake on it?
Him: No need. Later we'll consummate our agreement. [long pause] Babe.
Pretty romantic, huh? Although, I kinda wished he had handed me a dandelion or something.
