Hilltop Proposal
My husband proposed to me by taking me to a rather nice French restaurant downtown, then drove me to a nearby park in the center of town…despite the fact that I was in heels and an impossibly short dress, he insisted I climb this rocky hill with him–I was a little pissed off with having to climb a mountain in the fading sunlight, but he was trying to be romantic so I rolled with the punches.
When we got to the top, I unsuspectingly ended up sitting on an ant hill and right before he popped the question. About the same time he pulled out the ring, I noticed a steady stream of black ants climbing their way right up my leg and subsequently flipped out–the ring box went flying, as did my purse and I proceeded to cuss, stomp, and try to dance the ants off me.
After he helped me beat all the ants off me, he picked the box back up and finished proposing…I said yes, kissed him and then sprained my ankle on the hurried way down the hill. We’ve been happily married for five years now.
