About two years ago this weekend, a young, beautiful (if I say so myself) lady and her charming boyfriend went out for an unassuming meal at their favorite local, hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant.
You see, she was so wrapped up in the crappy work day she had that she was none the wiser to her boyfriend’s ulterior motives. As she rambled on about her day over a glass of wine, her boyfriend suddenly excused himself from the table and headed to the bathroom. Once again, she was in her own little world and thought nothing of it.
When he returned, she made a comment about how the restaurant seemed to be playing all her favorite songs. Then she made another comment which made her boyfriend laugh nervously: “I don’t remember them playing music here before.”
The two picked at the bread and talked about what they were going to order for dinner and their next drinks as they usually did. She went to reach for another piece of bread, he told her to wait. She thought, What the heck; do I have something on my face, in my teeth, did I have too much to eat already?
He then told her she had waited long enough, slid a ring box on to the table, and as Frank Turner’s version of Thunder Road played on in the background he asked her those four special words. She started crying and was nervous because they had gathered a small audience, so she said, “You son of a bitch.”
She said yes of course, the manager sent over a bottle of champagne, the restaurant cheered, and she blushed. They then proceeded to order their usual baked goat cheese and listen to the rest of the playlist her now fiancé had rigged up in the restaurant.
The two are happily married and still enjoying baked goat cheese to this day!