The Proposal, or You always Hurt the one you Love

This is an account of the night I proposed to Melinda, and its humerous consequences.

It was the evening after the main battles of the sixth Gulf Wars, an anual event of the SCA reenacting medieval forms of warfare. With ring in my pocket, I asked Melinda if she'd like to go for a walk around the large encampment. We visited various areas, as I tried in vain to find a secluded spot. Finally, I headed for the dark and deserted area behind the fortress. At this point it was becoming rather obvious that I had an agenda for our walk, so without further delay I set about the task. I drew my sword as I knelt before her, and planting it into the ground I asked for her hand in marriage. She accepted the ring, and I, not wanting to have a muddy sword in my hand to embrace her, elected to leave the sword in the ground as I stood. The sword, on the other hand, had other ideas, and as I stood it lept from the ground hilt-first into Melinda. She caught it as it struck her stomach, and began to laugh even as I struggled to understand how it had happened. She held up the tip in explanation, and I could see that the long free end of my squire belt was skewered by the sword, right through the Sea-Moose badge of my Knight. Afterwards, I presented her with her diamond. Since she didn't want a ring with a jewel on it, I simply gave her a wedding band and the keys to a 1966 Mustang. It was a diamond "In the rough" to be sure, but that hasn't stopped her from enjoying driving it.

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