I have a lot of rules about dating and relationships. I know how it ought to be.

The boy must be taller.
Traditional and outdated. I'm relatively tall for a girl, and I still have night mares of 7th grade dances.

The boy's last name must come alphabetically after the girl's.
It's true love if you move down in alphabet. It's a sacrifice of sorts.

Engagement rings must not be given on birthdays, Christmas or Valentine's Day.
Too predictable and a cop out of getting a gift. Besides, how many people have already done this.

The boy should come to the door to pick up his date.
My mom made some off handed comment when I was 8 about our neighbor's boyfriend honking for her. It stuck.

While I know these are all fake rules and really no indication of a successful relationship, it was really more of a way to know if a boy knew me.

5 years ago today, Hubby proposed to me. A week after Valentine's Day. On a day that had no real significance to either one of us or our relationship.
Exactly as it ought to be.

I had a class that went late, and he always picked me up afterwards. He texted me and we met at the chocolate shop where we had our first "kind of date". It was a little suspicious since I knew he had a ring and I knew he had asked my parents' permission, but nothing happened.

We went back to his house and I went in to check my email on his computer. His away message was "Asking Stephanie to marry me... Shhhh". I turned around and he was down on his knee.

He had thought about asking me while we were out, but we're not the most public of people. It was a moment for just the two of us.
Exactly as it ought to be.

5 years later, I'm still really excited that I said yes.
Exactly as it ought to be.