On July 30th, I woke up to an empty bed but noises in the kitchen. James walked in with a plate of pancakes just for me as I was checking facebook. I ate breakfast while James made pancakes for the rest of the family, then he took my plate away. When he came back he stood on my side of the bed after locking our door while I was still on Facebook and asked "How much do you love me?" I held out my arms and said "This much, but waaay more because my arms don't stretch that far. If my arms could circle the whole world, it'd be that much, but more." He said "Well, I'm gonna need your attention because I want to say something."
At this point, I put my laptop down and asked "Is this it!? This is it!? Is this happening?" He said "Yes." I said, "Do you even have a ring?" and he revealed the white ring box while on one knee. He said "Kimbra (middle) (last name), will you marry me?" I said "Yes," then "It's about damn time." He put my ring on me, which was too small at the time but still beautiful.
We had a rough moment at this point, because I was in shock and I wasn't nearly as excited as he hoped I would be. At first, I didn't like the ring; I even called it cheap. I am not heartless, I promise; I felt so, so bad once I saw the look on his face. It took me until after I showed my sister to truly appreciate the hard work and dedication that went into picking our ring. He wanted a ring that represented two people, two hearts, and one love. I apologized profusely and reassured him that I do love the ring, that he picked well, and that I was truly just shocked. It wasn't what I expected, but that doesn't mean it is not a bad ring. In fact, we still have that discussion almost a year later.
He told me later that his plan was originally going to be a bit different, but he felt that pancakes was better (since he didn't have as much money as he wanted to have), and he wanted to make me fat and happy so that I couldn't run away. I love him, I love our life, and I honestly can't wait to marry him in October of next year.