I'm such a freakin' delight, going around ruining otherwise lovely photos of Shannon and Jason.

It's Sunday and Rob's been gone long enough now for the edge to have been dulled a bit. This is a time to talk of my past three weeks. Due to my poor, poor linear time skills, I'll just sort of point-by-point this mother.

The trip was fun. To be honest, I'm not much for traveling. I'm a real homebody. The resort was fabulous, the food was great. The heat was stifling so we didn't do any of those little island tour things. I wanted to stay close to the salvation of air conditioning. MS and heat, as I've said before, is not a good combination. We still had a lot of fun swimming in the ocean and loitering around swim-up bars a lot. We both got brutally sunburned. Air Transat is by far the worst airline I have ever been on. Heed my words, friends. It is not worth the penny-pinching. Rob's 31" waist was wedged into the teensy-weensy seats; you can imagine my fat ass and the gymnastics involved in my being seated. We were there for a week, and I was very glad to get home.

I guess the bigger news - the proposal. I knew he was going to ask. I knew he had the ring. I ruined it, as I do. We had been talking about getting married and considering how cheap jewelery is in the middle east area, I assumed he would most likely be coming home with something shiny. But then, he made the mistake of showing the ring to Rin and a drunken Jenn, who came down the stairs "tee-hee-ing" and couldn't resist telling me about it. So I knew it was there, hidden somewhere in our room and I knew Jenn and Rin urged him to ask in Mexico, due to the romance factor. Now it was a waiting game.

Halfway through our trip, during drinks in the courtyard, Rob made the fatal error of saying that his superiors said to all of the fellows that asking your girlfriend to marry you during HLTA (their little break mid-way through tour) is stupid and don't do it and blah blah blah. I had a few drinks at me at this point, so I blurted out that I knew. He replied, "what did those bitches tell you?" So I came clean and explained that I couldn't bear to keep quiet, knowing he felt that way. If I had gotten on the plane without him proposing, I think I would have been pissed. He put the brakes on his fury and we enjoyed more days of vacationing.

A few days later, in the courtyard again and drinking again, Six Pence None The Richer's "Kiss Me" was being sung by a saucy senorita (so it was more like "keeess me") when Rob started his proposal with "I guess I'll do this now" as he rooted around in his pocket. I honestly didn't catch on, until he got down on one knee and gave me the proposal speech about how he knows he's not that romantic but he loves me and will I marry him. Obviously I said yes. By the time, the speech ended, the house band had begun a rousing rendition of "New York, New York" and Rob had to double-check that he had proposed during the first song and not during the decidedly better, but also less romantic, second. The rest of the night, we were giddy and kissing and chit-chatting about what we wanted wedding-wise. The ring is absolutely beautiful and perfect and the whole thing was pretty damn nice.

A side note on weddings: To address the FAQ - there's no date set. Rob wants next summer, I may want to wait longer. We're getting married in Edmonton. Little wedding (don't even know if it'll be in a church), big reception.

Oh and also, alcohol. My liver may never, ever recover. I did the following during our time (though I don't necessarily remember all of it).

1. I told off a Guido in a gauzey shirt. He danced up to my little circle of Jenn, Neil, Rin, Nick, Rob and I where I promptly snapped "we're just here to have a good time, and you aren't part of that good time!". He danced up off of us. This is one of those things I don't remember.

2. I danced on a table at Filthy McNasty's. I believe it was to Suicidal Tendencies.

3. I did crazy 80's Footloose dancing with Rob, also at Filthy's, also to 90's punk rock.

4. I slurred "I love you" over and over to the DJ playing said punk rock and asked him to DJ my wedding.

5. I repeatedly moaned that I "have to pull the trigger" while sitting on my stoop after I knew I had drank far too much.

And lastly, the goodbye. We did it on a dirty, busy street, because I didn't think I could bear the 45 minutes+ cab ride home after saying goodbye to him at the airport. We went out with a bang with the best sex of my young life, many hours spent in that awesome place in the hollow of his shoulder in bed, and lots and lots of those last minute kisses while the cab waited to whisk him away. He's back in Afghanistan now, probably until September or October. This blows.

I suppose those are the highs and lows.

Tags: afghanistan, alcohol, engagement, mexico, recap, rob, wedding