Last Thursday my Knight in Shining Armor told me that he had a work meeting Thursday night and that he and his coworkers would probably be going out for drinks afterwards. Being the saint he is, he invited me along and told me his boss, whom I’ve been dying to meet, would probably be there was well. He also promised me dinner, knowing it would be later in the evening that we were meeting up. On Thursday afternoon I checked in with him to see if happy hour was still a go and he confirmed and sent me the name of the bar. I had to run some errands before our trip back to Wisconsin, so I ran around and then quickly grabbed my things at 7:30 to go meet him, starving.

As I was leaving I was talking on the phone to my friend Dubs about our potential house share in Tahoe for ski season. I hopped on the bus to downtown and texted him to let him know I was en route. After I hung up with her I looked up the address and only found one by Golden Gate Park, waaaay on the other side of San Francisco. I texted my KISA to tell him I couldn’t find the proper address, only one by the park. He confirmed it was correct. I immediately called him. Mind you, this entire time I’m on a bus heading in the wrong direction. I hopped off the bus at the next stop, while reminding my KISA of how hungry I was, although I’m sure he could hear it in my voice. Frustrated, I told him I was just going to grab something to eat and head home. He calmly tried talking me off the ledge, and told me to hail a cab. I refused, saying that I’ve spent way too much money on cabs. He offered to pay for it, to which I told him that it was merely the principle of it. (Yes, I can be very stubborn.) Now, I’m not sure if it was the concerned tone in his voice or quite simply the fact that he wanted so badly for me to be there that I finally agreed to eat the string cheese in my purse and grab a cab, to the promise of real food when I arrived. (And yes, he makes me carry snacks in my purse at all times for these moments of hanger. Not a typo.)

So, I’m in the cab, on the way to Trad’r Sam’s when he calls me again. This time, he’s calling to tell me that they actually decided to go to Baker Beach for a few drinks before heading to the bar. Since I was in a moving vehicle and had no other choice, I agreed. He asked me to let him know as I was getting close and he’d meet me in the parking lot so that we could meet up with the crew. As we were pulling up in the cab I noticed the full moon on one side of the road and the incredible, hazy sunset on the other.

As promised, my KISA was waiting for me in the parking lot. I paid the taxi driver and started walking down the beach with him. We went through the usual after work chat, talking about my day, telling him about how I was going to murder our mailman, etc. We came upon a photographer taking pictures of a woman, to which my KISA almost walked in their picture. Lucky for him, I saved him from almost doing that. As we walked around the upper side of them, my KISA pulled me in front of the picture and proceeded to get down on his knee.

Now, when you daydream about the moment your knight in shining armor proposes to you, you assume you’d cry, right? Most people cry when they’re overwhelmed with emotion. So, he asked me if I’d marry him and maybe said something else, I’m not sure. I looked at the ring in this black box and stood there in shock, as the photographer was paparazzing it up. Time seemed to have frozen for a second as I was processing everything. I realized the ring was real. And, that the photographer was really there to take our picture. And, his friends probably weren’t there. I was duped.

Evidently time didn’t actually stand still like I’d thought. Instead, I was standing there laughing hysterically and wasn’t giving an answer. My KISA just continued kneeling there, waiting for an answer from me. I’m not sure how he prompted me back to reality – if he asked me again or what was said, but I finally said yes. Most ladies would then wait for the man to put the ring on her finger. Not me. Apparently I lunged forward, grabbed the ring, and looked at it. (I say “apparently” because I recall none of this.) He helped me put the ring on because by this point in time I was shaking uncontrollably, while still laughing hysterically.

The photographer continued snapping pictures as I awkwardly stood there, forcing my KISA to hold me up in fear I’d fall if having to use my own legs for support. We had a mini-photo session as we watched the gorgeous sunset that was going on behind us.

We finished up with the pictures when my KISA told me he was starving and hadn’t actually made any plans for us for dinner yet. Lucky for him I was in such a state of bliss I could no longer feel my presumably growling stomach.