This story came from a couple who will get married next April in England (and I'll be there to document that one too!). The bride to be told it so well that I'm going to quote from her entry to the Fresh Wedding Contest. Get the Kleenex ready!:
"The night we met I asked Jonathan to marry me. i was an American in love with Europe, he an englishman in love with America, both of us living in Belgium. A friend in common invited us both to dinner and new acquaintances remarked upon our mutually convenient interests. With a wink we raised out glasses to toast and I made my proposal. Jonathan answered with, "Hey! I was going to ask first!" in that beautiful accent of his.
Three months later I introduced my new boyfriend (Jonathan) to my friends, at my 30th birthday party. In spite of the fact he's super conservative and I'm a quirky liberal, it was all going so smoothly. . .when I received some stunning news. I had breast cancer and would require at least a year of treatment. I had a good feeling about Jonathan, but I knew all too well what caring for a sick partner looks like. A few months was not enough time to ask that kind of sacrifice from anyone. I didn't even know what country I would take treatment in! So I went to his pace and suggested that we "talk when this is all over." He answered my news by blurting out, "You're not going to break up with me, are you?!. . . I want you to move in. Do your treatment here."
It was a leap of faith, but almost two years later he got his chance to propose "first." One month after my major reconstruction surgery, I raced him to the center of a hedge maze on the grounds of a stately home. He won the race, but I still won my prize, a glittery one presented on one knee in the mud."
