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My husband is The One. All I could have ever hoped for and more. Mr. Perfect-for-me. However, he has a minor, endearing, flaw . . . his tendency to get a little nervous when it comes to the big moments in life.

Maybe that is how I guessed that the proposal was coming: he was fumbling and bumbling around for weeks over such things as making extravagant dinner plans and where he was going that one Saturday (which I later learned was a trip to San Francisco with his best friend to pick out the perfect ring).

But, then again, maybe it was that I just had a feeling. Okay, so did three of my best girlfriends and my two sisters.

The night of the proposal he took me out to a very nice steakhouse in Napa, where we enjoyed a spectacular bottle of Pinot Noir, succulent food, a romantic background of piano music, and lots of staring into one another's eyes. We were seated outdoors on the heated patio, beneath a blanket of velvet night, speckled with twinkling stars. Everything was perfect.

We had just finished dessert and Joe's voice began to quiver just slightly as he said the words I would never forget: "Jen, do you know just how happy you make me?"

I saw him draw a small, black velvet box from his coat pocket, and my heart skipped a beat. As he made his move toward me, the tablecloth followed him, and dishes as the end of the table came crashing down food flew everywhere!

You see, Joe has this silly habit of tucking his napkin into his pants so that it doesn't fall onto the floor, and in his preoccupied state, he didn't realize that he had inadvertently tucked the corner of the tablecloth into his trousers!

Then, in a state of shock, he fumbled for a napkin to wipe the tiramisu from my dress and, losing his balance, he accidentally grabbed onto my dress and it ripped, exposing my left breast.

Joe was on his knees before me, all right, but instead of asking me to marry him, he was begging me for forgiveness. The whole scene was so comical, though, and so typically Joe, that all I could do was laugh out loud. When he saw this, he started laughing, too. So that soon we were laughing so hard that we were crying. The whole restaurant was now his captive audience, so what else could he do? He said, "What the hell, Jen, I'm just gonna ask you anyway. Would you consider marrying a bumbling fool like me?" I answered, "Yes, darling. I wouldn't want you any other way." That was six years ago, and I love Mr. Perfect-for-me more every day.

Jen C


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