Last year tomorrow the dogre got down on one knee and proposed. On Valentine's day. Not surprising, considering he orders cheques decorated with butterflies and dewy leaves. HIS PLAN: a surprise road trip outside of the city to a beautifully scenic spot by the waters, dotted with wind turbines*, and a sunset proposal. THE PROPOSAL STORY: an anxious race against time after making a wrong turn, and a pitch black proposal in a unknown location. There, surrounded by what looked like a graveyard of abandoned construction material, after a long pee session behind some rubbish (my bladder was so full!), and while I was distracted by some unexpected guests (I was afraid they were going to yell at us for trespassing or kill us for witnessing an illegal transaction) the dogre dipped a knee into the wet snow. As I would soon be crowned lady dogress, I appropriately exhaled "woooooooooooooooooooooow" and we shared a teeth chattering, blue-lipped kiss. After a brief gaze at the wind turbines (we think) we headed back to the city, fine dining on whoppers and fries en route and clinking our paper cups of cola. And that, friends, is a true romantical story. Dogre style. I wouldn't change a single thing (unless we were really stretching our imaginations and could relocate the proposal to a French Polynesian island).
*I get googly eyes over windmills + turbines and enjoy field trips out to wind farms! I think they look magical. See below for proof of my fascination
rocky joins us on our adventures:
reenacting the hulk movie hitchhiking scene (I hummed the music) on the edge of the road, facing the grass, because, you know, cars drive next to the roads: