Megan and I are in the Outer Banks, celebrating five years married, ten amazing years together.
Since I never formally proposed, I have taken the liberty of upgrading Megan’s engagement ring.
Yesterday, I proposed to her. We walked on the beach sunset. I held her hand, paused during a breeze, descended to one knee and offered to do everything in my power to make her happy for the rest of her life.
She deserves even more.
Jason and Megan, 2008
I never gave Megan an engagement ring or technically asked her to marry me.
When I worked for the Sheriff’s department, Megan found a ring she liked and called me at work. The ring was on sale because the store was going out of business. The store was open for one more day…for 8 hours in the middle of my 12-hour shift. I couldn’t come see the ring or buy it for her out of custom. Either she bought, it or waited for another she liked.
Megan assured me:
- We could afford the ring.
- She liked it.
- She had no misgivings.
Mobile phones don’t work inside Orange County Jail (Hillsborough). Calls from the Missus were taken at the front desk, a huge office separated into “behind” and “out front” by huge metal bars — the same ones that demarcated cells. The room was part office, part break room for everyone working “up top” (the front half of the jail).
My half of the conversation was plainly audible.
After hanging up, I turned to my fellow officers and said, “Guess I’m getting married.”
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Megan claims she doesn’t like surprises. She prefers to be involved. She bought her own engagement ring — I didn’t even get to see it first. (That’s another tale and shall be told another time.) However, when you ask her detailed questions, she vacillates. Some surprises are good. Some are bad. What’s the pattern? Where’s the line?
It’s impossible for a loving husband to guess. Read More →