Well, it is official! I am an out of house member of my sorority! The House Corporation finally answered my prayers and deemed me worthy enough to pack up my bags and become a real-life, off-campus student.
Feelings? Excited. Anxious. Scared. Overwhelmed. The thought of a house to myself is CRAZY! I haven’t had a room to myself in two and a half years. It has been six long semesters. Six long semesters of living in house with 60 ish girls. I have lived in two girl, three girl, and five girl rooms. Each one has it’s unique roommates, original story and its own nostalgic memories.
To think that I will make the rules in my new home is also a little nuts. I have lived with rules for a long time. In my parents’ house, in the dorms, and in the sorority house. Now, I make the rules.
No one can fine me if my room isn’t clean. I don’t have to panic about someone cleaning out the fridge and throwing away my leftover meal. No more sharing the bathroom or having to seek out a friend’s house to live at when a break comes along because the sorority house closes. I now have the sole control of the TV. I don’t have to worry about a code, but instead will have my own key. There will be a BACKYARD and my little baby Malibu can live with me. Never will I have to hold my breath driving up to the house, because NO ONE WILL EVER BE IN MY PARKING SPOT. I can light fires and candles or burst into my room without worrying about waking up roommates. I can actually buy a bottle of wine and store it in my fridge. There will be no more meal times or menus, instead I will have my own oven and stove. Laundry can be done at my own leisurely speed, and guess what? I can do crafts any place I want. I never have to wear shoes. Drinks and food can be taken anywhere. AND boys can be in the home at any hour I deem necessary.
With so many pro’s, I cannot believe it has taken me so long to get outta there! Then again... I have really enjoyed my time in house. Always someone to talk to. Only had to clean a small portion of a room and bathroom. Meals were cooked daily by someone else. I was relatively close to campus. There were sneaky pranks getting played by sisters, which were always hilarious. Random serenades by fraternities. Perfect studying areas for large groups. Never had to do my dishes. Always living in a house with the excuse book and dues box. Almost a 50% guarantee that a group was practicing for a show-- hence free musical entertainment. Laughter was usually only a room away. Friendships that probably would have never happened formed because we were living together. Crazy rules made by House Corp were perfect targets for rebellion and fun.
While living in second floor 5 girl, I broke my first rule. I brought a PET into the sorority house. A fish. The semester before I had asked if I could have a fish. I was told very sternly that my sisters might be allergic to fish thus the strict policy of no pets. I was sort of confused... Fish live in water. Unless a sister was to come my room, intoxicated, and drink my vase of water, and inadvertently swallowed the fish... I can see how we might fear an allergic reaction! However, this is a far shot. I decided the risk was worth it and bought a beta fish and named him TJ. He lived a good few months and died for some mysterious reason. My roommates would say it was because I didn’t clean his vase enough... But I think it was just the sorority house slowly killing him because he knew he wasn’t suppose to be there. A boy and a pet... He had no chance. I went ahead and gave him a proper burial in the sorority’s front yard. I am sure House Corp would kill me if they found out, but this was before our expensive front yard makeover. And really, I was just trying to enrich our soil beds while respectfully memorializing a life lived well.
Rumors have it our membership has grown so much that in the fall of 2011, the house won’t be able to hold both the freshmen and sophomore pledge class. This is strange because right now, I am a senior living in house. There are plenty of juniors still moving in next semester, and of course many, many sophomores. But to think that some freshmen might not get to live in house, and may sophomores will have only had two semesters is sad. That is barely dipping your toes into the whole “living in house” experience. I guess it means they will have try even harder to make the most of it.
I know the biggest thing outsiders say is, “Oh wow... I could never live in a house with so many girls!” And I totally thought the same thing, but it grows on you. It is a unique environment, but I don’t think it is all that bad. The house is definitely always moving. Studying, singing, dancing, eating, whispering, watching, talking, sleeping, listening, walking, screaming, running, and about a thousand other -ing verbs happen. It is hard to find a quiet moment, but that is why you can leave at any point in time. Nothing is more sacred than having a safe haven somewhere on campus or at a friend’s house. It is all about balance.
Hopefully moving out of house won’t make me a distant member of the sorority. Usually when someone moves out, they are only seen on Monday nights in chapter or at required events. It is hard to make it over to the house and hang out when you don’t have a bed for some reason. I know I was never at the house when I lived in the dorms, and I have a sick, nagging feeling that fate is what awaits me in the spring. I am crossing my fingers I will make the effort to come by the house to just say hi. I don’t want to become the out of house senior stranger! But, I like to think that even though I am moving out, the house is still my house. (I am sure still paying about a bazillion dollars to House Corp!) But really, I am moving out and gaining a new home. I still have my sorority home. Two houses have to be better than one....
I guess time will tell. Now the next step is house hunting. Because I won’t have time to get on the HGTV version, I will be doing this solo... Wish me luck! Crossing my fingers for hardwood floors, a backyard, appliances included (fridge, washer/dryer, and a dishwasher!), plenty of windows, and perhaps even a garage? But most importantly, I am hoping to keep close to the sorority house... So when I get lonely, I will only be a hop, skip and jump away from my house of -ings, friends, and sisters.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Birthday Crickets
What an exciting week! It was my engagement AND birthday week! Truth be told, it has been a whole lot of celebration for this kid. If you haven’t already gotten the vibe, I am a person who likes routine. I get grouchy when things come up unexpectedly or out of nowhere. Case-in-point: I’d rather have my Monday full of classes ending with an election chapter than any kind of holiday! Weird, but the unstructured nature of a holiday freaks me out. In the same way that I hate crickets, I hate holidays. Both are unpredictable and bound to take about a bazillion different jumps.
To me, birthdays are even worse than a holiday. It is a holiday dedicated to one person. Talk about pressure! Especially if you don’t like attention…. Like me! People are wishing you happy birthdays in person, through cards, by means of texting, via facebook, and through twitter. I gave up saying individual thank yous about 2 years ago. It should just be understood that I can’t keep up with the facebooking. (I want to delete that thing! But how would I announce my blog…? Thus why it stays.) With twitter, I can reply for the most part. And I am still polite in semi-person (texting) and of course in person, but between my engagement and birthday… The facebook page has grown out of control. I have NEVER had so many wall posts in my time on facebook. People come out of the wood works to congratulate and wish birthday cheer. It is never good when you receive a notification from a name that you don’t even recognize. My iPhone was BLOWING UP all week… I guess my point is, I appreciate all the wishes, and I would like the thank everyone.
So what did I do for my 22nd birthday? Well, in order for everyone to value my night… You need to know my history with birthday parties. I have never had an abundance of friends. I tend to stick to about 5. This caused a tiny problem when it came to birthday time. Doli likes to party. Whether it is her 13-year-old daughter’s party or her own “Doli Party Weekend Bash.” (Yes, there were t-shirts.) She goes all out, and that means a lot of people. There are three birthdays that stick out to me before this past one.
When I was turning 9, I desperately wanted a Chuck-E-Cheese party. I was that kid who saved her tickets in a gallon size, freezer, zip-lock bag. I anticipated the day I could get the awesome green and black lava lamp that was worth a million tickets. I heard a rumor that if it was your birthday you got extra tokens. More tokens equal more tickets. See where I am going with this? Well, after invitations were sent out, my mom decided that there weren’t enough RSVPs to make the pipe dream happen. In order to not crush my heart, she thought it would be a fabulous idea to do a joint party for my sister and me. That is all and well except Mackenzie and I are like water and vinegar. I didn’t protest too much, because I had my eye on the prize. The. Lava. Lamp. When it came party time, lets just say that 4 of my friends showed up, and Mackenzie stole my tickets. Suck-E-Cheese Party of 1997.
The next memorable birthday would be in 2004. Sweet Sixteen. Still having problems in the friend department. Even so, Doli dreamed up the fantasy of a surprise birthday party. The venue? Laser tag. Of course… What 16-year-old girl wouldn’t want to run around sweaty with a laser gun and a 5 lb. vest strapped around her body with glowing targets on her birthday? There were 30 people invited to my party. My best friend was the decoy to get me to the venue, and she did a great job keeping the surprise on the down low. So good that only 3 people showed up. But to be fair, there were 8 people total at the party. Doli, Joe, Mac, me, best friend and the 3 guests. The party was such a dud that we ended up playing one game of tag and finishing up at TGIF’s for a celebratory dinner. You can do spontaneous things such as that when there are only 8 people.
My 21st birthday party was not typical. I was in the middle of teaching my soil science lesson plans in a real life classroom, thus I wasn’t too keen on going out for the typical celebration. I mean I wouldn’t respect a hung over college student teacher if I were in high school. Even scarier, I thought of being hung over and trying to tame the bratty junior boys who had already successfully tricked me into thinking their names were Lewis and Clark. Like the explorers. Well, that birthday year, my parents came to Stillwater and we went to Louie’s for dinner. It was really chill and low key. I had my first legal alcoholic drink, and enjoyed my family’s company. Fun fact: I actually didn’t grace the bars until March of 2010. I suppose this can be attributed to my less than enthusiastic attitude towards social atmospheres.
This year was a COMPLETELY different story. I was feeling like I had missed out the year before and I wanted to make up for lost time. (Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.) With the help of a very dear friend, I was able to have dinner with about 20 women who I love and adore very much. Yes. I purposely typed 20. There were 20 women who took time to celebrate with me! I couldn’t ever describe to you how much it meant to me. However, there was one glitch to the night.
At Texas Roadhouse, they do a malicious ritual to someone who claims it’s their birthday. In general, I will never understand any restaurant’s fascination with embarrassing people on their birthdays. And by embarrassment, I mean humiliate. At Roadhouse, they do it up in a way that can only be described as cruel and unusual. Now I was fully aware of this when I chose the restaurant. I wasn’t too concerned because I knew my sisters would NEVER do that to me. Should of known better. I was blind-sided halfway through dinner by a screaming blonde waitress. She declared it was my birthday and insisted I mount a saddle on wheels. Holy crap. Which sister would be shanked for pulling this stunt? Two margaritas had not jaded me enough to do such a ridiculous act. Laughing awkwardly and uncomfortably, I slowly got on top of the invisible horse. I began to cry. Some thought it was because I was laughing so hard. This was incorrect. These were tears of shock and embarrassment. After saying a meek, “Yee-haw,” I was allowed off the saddle. The waitress gave me a bowl of ice cream and said Happy Birthday. After all of that, they gave me ice cream. Y’all. I am lactose intolerant. Not cool. No sister claimed to have told the waitress, but I have my guesses! All I have to say is what goes around, comes around.
Anyways…. After a lovely dinner, a group of us headed over to the strip. I would love to describe the night to you, but I feel like what happens on the strip with me, stays on the strip. It was nothing terrible, but definitely a top night. Some snip-its I would like to share with you:
- Men with Mohawks love to dance.
- Techno music is very convincing.
- Bachelor parties can be planned by newly acquainted men.
- College Bar’s mixed drinks are basically shots.
- The tables at College Bar are very slippery. Be careful with your drinks!
- You have to be smarter than the girls’ bathroom lock.
- Received a name for me and Rob: Cambob
- Cowboy hats are not TOO out of place at College Bar.
- You get free shots at College Bar if it’s your birthday. Just show your ID.
- Never underestimate MLZ… or at least the 5 of us that ventured to the strip that night.
Well, needless to say, 22 was definitely top notch. It smashed the Chuck-E-Cheese debacle and absolutely decimated the laser tag disaster. It trumped my fake 21, and I can confidently say it re-opened my Grinchy heart to the possibility of a great Birthday. But not to get carried away or anything… Let me make it very clear—I still loathe unstructured, crickety, holidays.
Special Shout Out to Kylie Dixon. The reason for a successful 22. =) I love you dearly.
To me, birthdays are even worse than a holiday. It is a holiday dedicated to one person. Talk about pressure! Especially if you don’t like attention…. Like me! People are wishing you happy birthdays in person, through cards, by means of texting, via facebook, and through twitter. I gave up saying individual thank yous about 2 years ago. It should just be understood that I can’t keep up with the facebooking. (I want to delete that thing! But how would I announce my blog…? Thus why it stays.) With twitter, I can reply for the most part. And I am still polite in semi-person (texting) and of course in person, but between my engagement and birthday… The facebook page has grown out of control. I have NEVER had so many wall posts in my time on facebook. People come out of the wood works to congratulate and wish birthday cheer. It is never good when you receive a notification from a name that you don’t even recognize. My iPhone was BLOWING UP all week… I guess my point is, I appreciate all the wishes, and I would like the thank everyone.
So what did I do for my 22nd birthday? Well, in order for everyone to value my night… You need to know my history with birthday parties. I have never had an abundance of friends. I tend to stick to about 5. This caused a tiny problem when it came to birthday time. Doli likes to party. Whether it is her 13-year-old daughter’s party or her own “Doli Party Weekend Bash.” (Yes, there were t-shirts.) She goes all out, and that means a lot of people. There are three birthdays that stick out to me before this past one.
When I was turning 9, I desperately wanted a Chuck-E-Cheese party. I was that kid who saved her tickets in a gallon size, freezer, zip-lock bag. I anticipated the day I could get the awesome green and black lava lamp that was worth a million tickets. I heard a rumor that if it was your birthday you got extra tokens. More tokens equal more tickets. See where I am going with this? Well, after invitations were sent out, my mom decided that there weren’t enough RSVPs to make the pipe dream happen. In order to not crush my heart, she thought it would be a fabulous idea to do a joint party for my sister and me. That is all and well except Mackenzie and I are like water and vinegar. I didn’t protest too much, because I had my eye on the prize. The. Lava. Lamp. When it came party time, lets just say that 4 of my friends showed up, and Mackenzie stole my tickets. Suck-E-Cheese Party of 1997.
The next memorable birthday would be in 2004. Sweet Sixteen. Still having problems in the friend department. Even so, Doli dreamed up the fantasy of a surprise birthday party. The venue? Laser tag. Of course… What 16-year-old girl wouldn’t want to run around sweaty with a laser gun and a 5 lb. vest strapped around her body with glowing targets on her birthday? There were 30 people invited to my party. My best friend was the decoy to get me to the venue, and she did a great job keeping the surprise on the down low. So good that only 3 people showed up. But to be fair, there were 8 people total at the party. Doli, Joe, Mac, me, best friend and the 3 guests. The party was such a dud that we ended up playing one game of tag and finishing up at TGIF’s for a celebratory dinner. You can do spontaneous things such as that when there are only 8 people.
My 21st birthday party was not typical. I was in the middle of teaching my soil science lesson plans in a real life classroom, thus I wasn’t too keen on going out for the typical celebration. I mean I wouldn’t respect a hung over college student teacher if I were in high school. Even scarier, I thought of being hung over and trying to tame the bratty junior boys who had already successfully tricked me into thinking their names were Lewis and Clark. Like the explorers. Well, that birthday year, my parents came to Stillwater and we went to Louie’s for dinner. It was really chill and low key. I had my first legal alcoholic drink, and enjoyed my family’s company. Fun fact: I actually didn’t grace the bars until March of 2010. I suppose this can be attributed to my less than enthusiastic attitude towards social atmospheres.
This year was a COMPLETELY different story. I was feeling like I had missed out the year before and I wanted to make up for lost time. (Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.) With the help of a very dear friend, I was able to have dinner with about 20 women who I love and adore very much. Yes. I purposely typed 20. There were 20 women who took time to celebrate with me! I couldn’t ever describe to you how much it meant to me. However, there was one glitch to the night.
At Texas Roadhouse, they do a malicious ritual to someone who claims it’s their birthday. In general, I will never understand any restaurant’s fascination with embarrassing people on their birthdays. And by embarrassment, I mean humiliate. At Roadhouse, they do it up in a way that can only be described as cruel and unusual. Now I was fully aware of this when I chose the restaurant. I wasn’t too concerned because I knew my sisters would NEVER do that to me. Should of known better. I was blind-sided halfway through dinner by a screaming blonde waitress. She declared it was my birthday and insisted I mount a saddle on wheels. Holy crap. Which sister would be shanked for pulling this stunt? Two margaritas had not jaded me enough to do such a ridiculous act. Laughing awkwardly and uncomfortably, I slowly got on top of the invisible horse. I began to cry. Some thought it was because I was laughing so hard. This was incorrect. These were tears of shock and embarrassment. After saying a meek, “Yee-haw,” I was allowed off the saddle. The waitress gave me a bowl of ice cream and said Happy Birthday. After all of that, they gave me ice cream. Y’all. I am lactose intolerant. Not cool. No sister claimed to have told the waitress, but I have my guesses! All I have to say is what goes around, comes around.
Anyways…. After a lovely dinner, a group of us headed over to the strip. I would love to describe the night to you, but I feel like what happens on the strip with me, stays on the strip. It was nothing terrible, but definitely a top night. Some snip-its I would like to share with you:
- Men with Mohawks love to dance.
- Techno music is very convincing.
- Bachelor parties can be planned by newly acquainted men.
- College Bar’s mixed drinks are basically shots.
- The tables at College Bar are very slippery. Be careful with your drinks!
- You have to be smarter than the girls’ bathroom lock.
- Received a name for me and Rob: Cambob
- Cowboy hats are not TOO out of place at College Bar.
- You get free shots at College Bar if it’s your birthday. Just show your ID.
- Never underestimate MLZ… or at least the 5 of us that ventured to the strip that night.
Well, needless to say, 22 was definitely top notch. It smashed the Chuck-E-Cheese debacle and absolutely decimated the laser tag disaster. It trumped my fake 21, and I can confidently say it re-opened my Grinchy heart to the possibility of a great Birthday. But not to get carried away or anything… Let me make it very clear—I still loathe unstructured, crickety, holidays.
Special Shout Out to Kylie Dixon. The reason for a successful 22. =) I love you dearly.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
For the love of Candlelight
Light the candles because we are about to have a good old-fashioned Candlelight! In reality, only on candle is lit. And ironically, this candle is placed one top of a bouquet of flowers. Even so, it is regarded as an event of the semester in sorority land.
For those who do not engage in sorority events, a Candlelight is a ritual done to reveal a sister's engagement. In our sorority, a cute little jingle is sung while the blazing bouquet is passed around the circle. The ceremony usually takes place after a chapter, allowing for a bulk of the membership to be in attendance.
Last night we had our first Candlelight of the semester. You would have thought it was a real-life game of Clue! The rumors were flying on who it might be. Could it be the girl whose boyfriend flew in from Wisconsin this past weekend? They are getting pretty serious... OR maybe it is the senior who went to her boyfriend's hometown for only ONE day this weekend. I mean why would they only go for ONE day unless it was the propose?? OR, we could get a ball from left field. It could be one of the freshmen who is so in love with her boyfriend that they couldn't wait! Never say never...
Around and around we go trying to pull out the weekend alibis for each potential Candlelight candidate. Trying to count out how many months and years couples have been together. Monitoring suspicious tweets and Facebook posts. Nothing is above a sorority girl trying to solve the Candlelight mystery before it is revealed.
By the time I post this, the riddle will be solved. I, Cameron Jones, will have been the recipient of a Candlelight. Hopefully, this was a surprise to everyone. I didn't tell a single soul, even after I had promised to tell specific people.... I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Once one person knows such an awesome secret, they are bound to slip and let the bouquet out of the bag.
I hope everyone forgives me and will hopefully understand! If you were unable to make the Candlelight, or perhaps wanted more details, I will tell they story again.
Thursday night, Rob Dale did his first attempt at proposing. Yes. First attempt. I said no. Not because I didn't want to marry him, but because the proposal wasn't up to par. Before you jump to conclusions or judge and deem me a stuck-up sorostitute, let me explain.
I have had a good 72 hours to simmer in this weekend's events. I have come to an articulated explanation that will hopefully give everyone some insight.
First off, sorority land has brainwashed me. I have witnessed many a Candlelights these past 4 years. I felt as if each proposal was magical, romantic, and better than the last! There are candles, Christmas lights, long speeches, family members present, significant dates or places involved, or even a romantic dinner.
Newsflash. Doesn't always happen like that. Well, this assumption on top of the background and nature of Rob Dale's and my relationship created the nasty proposal bubble that was burst on Thursday.
- Rob Dale and I have been dating for 16 months.
- We knew after 3 weeks that we loved each other and after 3 months that we were going to get married.
- I joked all the time about if my Candlelight story wasn't good enough, he would have to try again.
- I had seen the ring 2 weeks before and had been anticipating a proposal.
- All of factors must be taken into account to understand my somewhat harsh and unconventional reaction.
Fast-forward to Thursday night. I had just finished Eclipse at the Student Union. This was a required event, and I am not a big "watch movies in public" person. I hadn't showered that day and my sweatpants were less than attractive. At the end of the movie, Rob Dale sends me a text that states I need to meet him outside because he has something to show me. I start to panic. SURELY he isn't about to propose to me with all these Kappa Deltas around... What about my Candlelight?!
I didn't want to ruin his awesome surprise though! What if he had spelt out his entire proposal in Christmas lights or hired the marching band to play our song?! So, I gritted my teeth and hoped everyone would clear out before it happened.
As we walked through the gardens and down Greek Row, I talked about Jacob’s 9-pack from the movie. Literally. That was about 90% of the conversation. We also discussed MLZ shenanigans and all the food I had consumed during the movie. Incredibly romantic! The whole time I was becoming more and more anxious waiting for the Marching band or candles or monologue… Before I could blink, he stopped. I was still waiting… Perhaps a release of glowing doves? Then he said “Cameron Kylene Jones… Will you marry me?”
Wait? What? We were just talking about a werewolf’s abs and my horrible eating habits of the night. In a dazed stutter I replied, "I guess," but I was still stunned… Was that it? What was I going to tell people? What the heck just happened!? He knew I was disappointed and tried to explain to me that he just got nervous, but I was still in disbelief. I asked him if he would try again. He obviously agreed. (Rob Dale is such a trooper!) Unfortunately that was a rough night neither of us saw coming!
The next day I attempted to google, “What to do after you say no to a proposal from the guy you want to marry.” Not a trending topic folks. Apparently people don’t say no unless they aren’t willing to marry the schmuck who is on his knee. People don't say no if they don't like the proposal. They say yes because they are so overjoyed that another human being wants to spend forever and always with them. Go figure. So, a few plans-of-action went through my brain that Friday morning. Like, just proposing to him myself through a scavenger hunt! Or stealing the ring, making up a story, and doing a Candlelight without the re-try proposal. Or maybe I could just give him a game plan, and create the perfect proposal so I would have no room to complain. Like most irrational, dramatic thoughts of mine… These alternatives were deemed crazy by late afternoon. I decided to just wait it out. Have a little faith!
Saturday night, Rob Dale took me to dinner at the Sushi House. We ate a lovely meal and talked about the future. I figured this was round 2, so I had showered and looked like a soon-to-be-fiancé should. After a good dinner and even better conversation, he went into his romantic monologue. It was just as I had envisioned it and more. I confidently said yes to proposal two, and in Rob Dale’s words… “Was absolutely glowing.”
I think there are 2 morals to the story.
#1- Don’t let hype trump the meaning of your proposal. Men are super nervous, even when they know you’ll say yes! The fact that they want to spend the rest of their life with you, and just signed it away with a ring should be 98% of the meaning behind the proposal.
#2- Don’t settle. That other 2% is still important. Every guy has their own way of doing the proposal, so keep that in perspective. But, never feel ashamed or embarrassed to ask for what you want. If they love you, they will have no problem with obliging. It is a give and take world out there with relationships and I do not claim to be a expert, but from this past weekend, I know those two morals are truths.
Oh yeah! PS- We haven’t set a date! We are in no hurry and don’t be surprised if it happens in 2013.
For those who do not engage in sorority events, a Candlelight is a ritual done to reveal a sister's engagement. In our sorority, a cute little jingle is sung while the blazing bouquet is passed around the circle. The ceremony usually takes place after a chapter, allowing for a bulk of the membership to be in attendance.
Last night we had our first Candlelight of the semester. You would have thought it was a real-life game of Clue! The rumors were flying on who it might be. Could it be the girl whose boyfriend flew in from Wisconsin this past weekend? They are getting pretty serious... OR maybe it is the senior who went to her boyfriend's hometown for only ONE day this weekend. I mean why would they only go for ONE day unless it was the propose?? OR, we could get a ball from left field. It could be one of the freshmen who is so in love with her boyfriend that they couldn't wait! Never say never...
Around and around we go trying to pull out the weekend alibis for each potential Candlelight candidate. Trying to count out how many months and years couples have been together. Monitoring suspicious tweets and Facebook posts. Nothing is above a sorority girl trying to solve the Candlelight mystery before it is revealed.
By the time I post this, the riddle will be solved. I, Cameron Jones, will have been the recipient of a Candlelight. Hopefully, this was a surprise to everyone. I didn't tell a single soul, even after I had promised to tell specific people.... I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Once one person knows such an awesome secret, they are bound to slip and let the bouquet out of the bag.
I hope everyone forgives me and will hopefully understand! If you were unable to make the Candlelight, or perhaps wanted more details, I will tell they story again.
Thursday night, Rob Dale did his first attempt at proposing. Yes. First attempt. I said no. Not because I didn't want to marry him, but because the proposal wasn't up to par. Before you jump to conclusions or judge and deem me a stuck-up sorostitute, let me explain.
I have had a good 72 hours to simmer in this weekend's events. I have come to an articulated explanation that will hopefully give everyone some insight.
First off, sorority land has brainwashed me. I have witnessed many a Candlelights these past 4 years. I felt as if each proposal was magical, romantic, and better than the last! There are candles, Christmas lights, long speeches, family members present, significant dates or places involved, or even a romantic dinner.
Newsflash. Doesn't always happen like that. Well, this assumption on top of the background and nature of Rob Dale's and my relationship created the nasty proposal bubble that was burst on Thursday.
- Rob Dale and I have been dating for 16 months.
- We knew after 3 weeks that we loved each other and after 3 months that we were going to get married.
- I joked all the time about if my Candlelight story wasn't good enough, he would have to try again.
- I had seen the ring 2 weeks before and had been anticipating a proposal.
- All of factors must be taken into account to understand my somewhat harsh and unconventional reaction.
Fast-forward to Thursday night. I had just finished Eclipse at the Student Union. This was a required event, and I am not a big "watch movies in public" person. I hadn't showered that day and my sweatpants were less than attractive. At the end of the movie, Rob Dale sends me a text that states I need to meet him outside because he has something to show me. I start to panic. SURELY he isn't about to propose to me with all these Kappa Deltas around... What about my Candlelight?!
I didn't want to ruin his awesome surprise though! What if he had spelt out his entire proposal in Christmas lights or hired the marching band to play our song?! So, I gritted my teeth and hoped everyone would clear out before it happened.
As we walked through the gardens and down Greek Row, I talked about Jacob’s 9-pack from the movie. Literally. That was about 90% of the conversation. We also discussed MLZ shenanigans and all the food I had consumed during the movie. Incredibly romantic! The whole time I was becoming more and more anxious waiting for the Marching band or candles or monologue… Before I could blink, he stopped. I was still waiting… Perhaps a release of glowing doves? Then he said “Cameron Kylene Jones… Will you marry me?”
Wait? What? We were just talking about a werewolf’s abs and my horrible eating habits of the night. In a dazed stutter I replied, "I guess," but I was still stunned… Was that it? What was I going to tell people? What the heck just happened!? He knew I was disappointed and tried to explain to me that he just got nervous, but I was still in disbelief. I asked him if he would try again. He obviously agreed. (Rob Dale is such a trooper!) Unfortunately that was a rough night neither of us saw coming!
The next day I attempted to google, “What to do after you say no to a proposal from the guy you want to marry.” Not a trending topic folks. Apparently people don’t say no unless they aren’t willing to marry the schmuck who is on his knee. People don't say no if they don't like the proposal. They say yes because they are so overjoyed that another human being wants to spend forever and always with them. Go figure. So, a few plans-of-action went through my brain that Friday morning. Like, just proposing to him myself through a scavenger hunt! Or stealing the ring, making up a story, and doing a Candlelight without the re-try proposal. Or maybe I could just give him a game plan, and create the perfect proposal so I would have no room to complain. Like most irrational, dramatic thoughts of mine… These alternatives were deemed crazy by late afternoon. I decided to just wait it out. Have a little faith!
Saturday night, Rob Dale took me to dinner at the Sushi House. We ate a lovely meal and talked about the future. I figured this was round 2, so I had showered and looked like a soon-to-be-fiancé should. After a good dinner and even better conversation, he went into his romantic monologue. It was just as I had envisioned it and more. I confidently said yes to proposal two, and in Rob Dale’s words… “Was absolutely glowing.”
I think there are 2 morals to the story.
#1- Don’t let hype trump the meaning of your proposal. Men are super nervous, even when they know you’ll say yes! The fact that they want to spend the rest of their life with you, and just signed it away with a ring should be 98% of the meaning behind the proposal.
#2- Don’t settle. That other 2% is still important. Every guy has their own way of doing the proposal, so keep that in perspective. But, never feel ashamed or embarrassed to ask for what you want. If they love you, they will have no problem with obliging. It is a give and take world out there with relationships and I do not claim to be a expert, but from this past weekend, I know those two morals are truths.
Oh yeah! PS- We haven’t set a date! We are in no hurry and don’t be surprised if it happens in 2013.
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