18 years ago today I asked possibly the sanest thing I've ever done, before or since.
I asked Ange to marry me and for some weird reason? She said yes.
Best thing I've ever done, as I'm fairly certain I'd be living under a bridge somewhere in a box with a guy named Bert and mugging little old ladies for eating money.
All she's done in 18 years is make me the luckiest man alive, give me three wonderful children, and put up with more idiotic comments than most women hear in a lifetime.
So while I may have been a romantic fool for proposing on Valentine's Day I also set the bar ridiculously high; how do you flipping top a proposal?
Maybe the stress of thinking about it made me sick this year; feeling better but I never really knew your earlobe could ache.
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