Dear John,
I don’t know how you will take this, but I’ve weighed everything up and made a decision, one you will not necessarily like.
I think back to early in our relationship, when I was desperate to show you off to my family and friends at my cousin’s wedding. But you were adamant, you had a ticket for the big match that day and nothing could change your mind about going. As it was, you called me during the wedding speeches in tears, after Spurs had lost to Arsenal after a last-minute penalty. I couldn’t see what the fuss was about as everyone knows that Spurs always come up short.
What about when you spent Christmas at ours for the first time. You were a different person, arriving with a bunch of flowers for my mum that wouldn’t be out of place at the Chelsea flower show. You won our Christmas quiz by a mile, the one I usually win, then wormed your way into mum’s heart by dishing up compliments by the bucketload and helping her do the washing up, so much so that she whispered in my ear, “He’s a keeper.”
And how you said you would give me space to revise for my final exams. I fell for your subterfuge when you said, “I’ll stay out your way for a week and do something with the lads.” I did not expect that to be a jolly-boys outing to Benidorm, and every night you would call me with the latest calamity. Like two of the group missing the plane and you arranging alternative flights for them, and then your best mate Harry tying up with a girl called Sadie from Manchester who turned out to be a plumber called Fred from Stockport with his own impressive tackle and you had to console him all night. Then your mate Ed, the one who needs a bit of TLC, lost his passport and all his money so you had to help him at the British Embassy and loan him some readies for the rest of the holiday.
I can’t forget my birthday last month either, after my friend spotted you browsing the local jeweller’s display. We went down to where you had been standing, and it was right in front of the trays of engagement rings. I was ecstatic when opening your little present with moist eyes, shaking hands and a beating heart, only to find a pair of earrings and not the long-awaited engagement ring.
To come to the point, after much consideration, about your infatuation with sport, how you sweet-talked your way into my mum’s affections, your persona as ‘Mr. Sensible’ when out with your mates, and a questionable choice in gifts. Because of all this and more, I have made a crucial decision about our relationship.
So, dear John, on this special day, the 29th of February, I have the right to ask you this one question:
Will you marry me?
