Crazy-Town

I saw the text as I left my office for the day.

"What time are you coming over?"

It was a totally normal question for a Thursday night. Thursday night was our stay-in date night. It was the night that I went over, we watched The Office, and enjoyed being together at the end of the long week. Thursday nights were my favorite nights. But that Thursday night he may as well have asked me to don a French maid uniform and clean his apartment, such was the depth of my annoyance.

It wasn't his fault, I did this to myself. He was amazing, and merely an innocent bystander to my mania. I told myself I wasn't going to be one of those girls, and for a long time I avoided it, but as February turned into March, I started growing fangs.

We had a trip planned at the beginning of April to my parents' house in Florida to be with my entire family for two weeks. It was the last time that we were all going to be together in that house before my parents moved back to Pittsburgh, and it was going to be an epic celebration. And I just knew he would propose before that, so we could all celebrate together. But I didn't know when. And I knew that he had the ring. But I didn't know where. And as our departure date drew closer, I took a downward spiral into crazy-town.

Every time he did something a bit out of the ordinary, my heart rate kicked up. I planned and calculated and wondered. Every day I woke up and thought "today is the day."

I knew that my hyper-awareness was exceedingly unattractive and completely unlike me, but I couldn't seem to shut it down.

So when he asked when I would be over that Thursday night, I told him I had a few things to do, and I would be over later.

I met my sister for a dinner that lasted longer than I intended. And I stopped at the grocery store. And when I was in my kitchen unloading my bags I decided to whip up the brownies I promised I would bring to a dinner I was going to the following night.

No rush, I thought.

It was after nine by the time I headed over to his apartment, clad in my oldest sweatpants, battered Uggs, and a sweatshirt that had certainly seen better days. As I walked into the lobby of his building, my phone rang. It was him. He said that he was running late and wasn't home yet, which infuriated me, mostly because my decision to passive-aggressively show up late for our regularly scheduled Thursday night activities was thwarted. Then he said that he needed to do some internet research that night on a potential business partner, but he didn't have time so since I was there anyway, could I please do it?

I protested. The research sounded pretty unnecessary, but he was insistent.

"Fine," I said, and hung up.

Forty-five minutes later he walked in. He picked up another computer and told me he would help me out so that we could finish the research quickly and get on with our night. A few minutes of silence passed before he told me he had found something he wanted me to take a look at and asked me to sign on to G-Chat so he could send me the link.

With an unnecessarily loud sigh of frustration, I signed on to G-Chat, and less then a second later the link popped up on my screen.

http://www.samwillyoumarryme.com/.

I clicked yes.

Engagement Night.