losh and I usually spend the wee hours lounging in front of our respective computers in our jammies, Web surfing, posting, maybe schmoozing or solving the world's problems. It's become our morning routine, him in front of his state-of-the art Velocity Micro and me huddled over his laptop.
Yesterday, without tearing his eyes from the screen, he asked, "Would you marry me?"
Sure, I said. How come?
"I want you to be my wife."
I'm 30 lbs. heavier than when he met me and a whole lot flabbier, not to mention I'm wearing hole-y flannel jammies flecked with spit-up. And still this guy wants to marry me. Huh.
Just when you think you know a person.
My Dad used to say that nothing kills a fine friendship like romance, and nothing kills a fine romance like marriage. Says who?