The story so far:
Nerves. My stomach dropped and my hands began to shake violently as I neared the most important moment of my life. "I will not faint, I will not throw up, and I will do this without anything bad happening," I told my self as reassuringly as I could. At this point, if I made it through the rest of dinner without fainting I would be proud of myself.
As our food began to disappear from our plates and her smile got brighter and brighter, I realized one thing. If I didn't do this I would, almost literally, kill myself. It wasn't my fault love was so intoxicating. Everytime I thought I was good, I began craving more. At first it was just a simple conversation. Then it grew to a hug. Next a kiss. And so on and so forth until it led me here to the one thing that would make us inseperable. Marriage.
Just the thought made my stomach drop. It wasn't that I had a fear of commitments or anything, it was just that I didn't want to do the one thing that led to marriage. A proposal. All my friends suggested different ideas. Things like skydiving, rock climbing, scuba diving, and a nice picnic. They were all nice ideas, but when I thought about it and I thought about her, I decided one thing. She would want it traditional.
Going to her dad and asking permission wasn't the hard part. This was the hard part. I had specifically asked the waiter to do the whole drop the ring in the champagne thing. He cheerfully agreed and said everything would be ready once all the food was gone. Now I sat in the chair, silently pretending to be listening to my girlfriend's words, with an empty plate and queasy stomach.