“How in the hell did you diffuse the situation? That’s what I want to know!” Jim walks up behind me to grab a clipboard off of the table and makes some notes, waiting patiently for my answer.
“Well, having her mother walk in on us helped. Claire was completely focused on her making comments about my ass rather than on the fact that I may or may not have called out something completely inappropriate during sex. Is it wrong that I’d rather she thought I did call her ‘Mommy’ instead of just admitting I really said ‘marry me’?” I ask.
“I dated a girl once who liked to call me ‘Daddy’ in the sack. It was kind of hot until I actually met her dad. He looked like Danny Devito, but shorter and with less hair. He always smelled like farts and swiss cheese and liked to bark at hot chicks when they’d walk by him in public,” Drew tells us.
“I take that back. It would have been less painful for her to think I proposed than to hear that story,” I say disgustedly.
“So what’s the plan now? So far a baseball game and post-coital hasn’t worked for ya. Got any other tricks up your sleeve?” Jim jokes.
“I was thinking about doing it over dinner maybe. Someplace really romantic. Isn’t that what you said I should do that night after we tried on tuxes?”
Jim looks at me in confusion. “I did? I don’t recall. Although I woke up at three in the morning in your bathtub with no pants on that night, so it’s possible I had some really good ideas.”
“Ooooooh! You should totally propose at our rehearsal dinner next weekend,” Jim says excitedly as he slams the clipboard down on the table.
“Really? I don’t know. It seems like kind of an intrusion on you and Liz. That's your special day.”
“Slow down there, Miss Manners. I’m not asking you to have a double-wedding with us. Just pop the question over dinner. Please, God, give me something else to think about right now other than aisle runners, boutonnières, and swatches,” Jim complains.
“Are you wearing a Swatch Watch for your wedding?” Drew asks, forming the letter “X” with his arms in front of him and pronouncing the words with flair.
“Funny. Just wait until Jenny gets her hooks in you and you have to deal with her psycho mother. Every time Mary Gates walks in the room and shows me a ribbon sample I want to say, ‘Did you see that? The fuck I give. It went that way.’ I’m about one tablecloth color away from just telling everyone to bring a side dish and a lawn chair to our backyard and have Drew get ordained on the internet to do the ceremony,” Jim complains. “Liz asked me the other day what I thought about twice baked potatoes. How the fuck should I know? Was I supposed to be thinking about twice baked potatoes all this time? Is this where I went wrong? Are grown men supposed to have an opinion about twice baked potatoes?”
Jim looks like his head is about ready to explode. He stands there with his arms outstretched like he's pleading for understanding or some sort of man hug. Since Drew and I aren’t the man-hugging type, Jim finally drops his arms and continues with his rant.
“And my parents, being the good Christian people they are, think one bottle of wine on every table is enough liquor. My mother’s exact words were, ‘If we run out, we run out. People will just have to make do with water.’”
Drew’s mouth drops open as the car we finished moves down the line and a new one follows in its wake.
“Water? At a wedding? I don’t understand,” he asks in confusion. “Did you invite Jesus? That’s the only way that will be acceptable.”
“Please, for the love of God, propose to Claire at the rehearsal dinner so my future mother-in-law will squeal in someone else’s ear for one night. I beg of you,” Jim pleads.
I think about Jim’s suggestion while I get to work on the next vehicle. The restaurant where the rehearsal dinner will be held is a really beautiful place. And our friends will all be there to witness the event, something I’m sure Claire will love. The more I go over the idea in my head, the more excited I become. The rest of the night at work flies by as Drew and Jim help me come up with the perfect plan to ask Claire to be my wife.
~
The following Friday evening, Claire, Gavin, and I pull into the parking lot of Pier W, a beautiful landmark restaurant in Cleveland that is designed to resemble the hull of a luxury liner. Its location, perched high on a cliff overlooking Lake Erie, gives it a breathtaking view and makes me one hundred percent certain I have chosen the best location for a marriage proposal.
After a short run-through of the ceremony at the church where the wedding will be held the following afternoon, everyone is looking forward to a relaxing evening with good food and drinks. Jim and Drew keep eying me with furtive glances the entire time we are at the church, winking at me and nudging my arm whenever they can. I come close to punching Drew in the stomach directly under a statue of Mary at one point.