Outfit from Zara

Outfit from Zara



So a bit of background- Pat and I met 10 years ago when he served me at Bilo, (Bilo is a now bankrupt grocery store). Pat was just a checkout boy to me, on my favourite ‘10 items or less’ aisle. I never really took much notice of him as I was often side tracked by snake on my Nokia 3310, until one day he questioned my choice in groceries.

‘You come through my checkout every Saturday and you only ever get cheese and crackers to eat- why not add a cold meat from the deli section?’

I thought to myself who is this tall lanky teenager and why should I grant him any authority to comment on my lunch.

‘I beg your pardon’ I asked in a very pissed off tone, but his face was too lovely to handle and soon he added me on msn- (onlyindreamz@hotmail.com for those of you playing at home) and our conversations were lit. What is MSN? I hear all you millenniums ask??? Well it’s a place where magic happened, unless your mum needed to use the landline.

So fast forward 9 years and we now have a home, a dog, a strong wifi connection and folder in the kitchen titled ‘our wedding.’

How did he ask? WELL. It was the last day of our euro journey and we were in Paris. I remember it was at least 20 mins since my last feed, so naturally I was beginning to feel hangry, emotional and unsatisfied. We sat down at a café and just as I was about to order a croque monsieur he checked his watch and said ‘eeekk we don’t have time for this, get up chubby and onto the scooter, I have a surprise for you’  

Those of you who know me, will know I have the UGLIEST, most child-like grubby alien hands known to mankind, and to make matters worse I bite my nails (yes I have tried the disgusting tasting nail polish- so don’t even bother suggesting it). I never let my hands be in photos and am all round embarrassed at what a mockery they are –first world problem but a problem indeed. Luckily old mate Pat had thought about this and booked me into a nail salon… what a legend. I soon clocked on, and being the filter-less woman I am, I blurted out ‘NAILS? ARE YOU GOING TO PROPOSE TO ME???’ ‘shhhh impatient child, sit down, I will be back soon to collect you’ he said.

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Now, disclaimer* I have never been the girl who dreamed of getting married, in fact I thought of it as more of a nightmare.. Up until last year the idea of marriage gave me the sweats and spew burps. I distinctively remember telling my best friend, Sarah Nanson when we were 9 years old to ‘mark my words, I will not get married.’ And up until the 8th year of me and pat being together I wholeheartedly believed this.

Then he picked me up from the nail salon and I jumped on the back of his scooter, next surprise’ he said as I held on tight (yet mindful of my still damp nails). I soon realised he had driven past the hotel we were staying in and rocked up to a total average looking building. ‘Maybe he isn’t proposing’ I thought, ‘this place is not pretty? and surely he hasn’t held on to my ring for 6 whole weeks travelling through however many pickpocketing countries? and should I be mad if he has? maybe my nails were in such bad condition he couldn’t stand the sight of them anymore?’ with all these thoughts running through my head he took my hand and led me upstairs into a penthouse apartment.

‘Holy shit’ I said. This place was amazing, like AHHH-MAZING, I wish I had the vocabulary to describe it-  ‘we're staying here tonight’ he assured me. The lovely boy had packed up my suitcase, and makeup bags (a hard labour job) and switched hotels all while I was getting my nails done. ‘I am busting for a wee’ I said romantically when Pat gently took my hand and led me to the balcony where we had the most FKN EPIC view of the Eiffel Tower. His hand felt sweaty and his face was a big smirk.

I honestly can’t remember what he said next, except that the words were nice, all I was thinking was ‘there is a huge bulge in his pants, and it was definitely not his willy- because willies are not square’ as sweet nothings came out of his mouth, I again (filter-less) told him to ‘stop- if you're proposing, I should be facing the tower’ we swiftly changed positions. And he got down on one knee. As I had clearly forgot my muzzle that day I cut him off mid speech, laughing nervously, I pointed to the mirror on the balcony and said ‘oh golly look at you on your knees- but please spare yourself …you don’t have to say it, of course I will marry you.’

‘No Nicola’ he said ‘I want to say it, will you make me the happiest guy in the world and forever be by my side, will you marry me?’

'Yeah no wokkas' I said. 

and then in true legendary fashion, he went and got me an extra cheesy pizza while I facetimed my mum and sister. He put on a spread of pizza, wine, macaroons and music and we watched the Eiffel Tower light up before making the long journey home to Adelaide the following morning.

It was the most perfect end to our holiday and the happiest moment of my life. From a former marriage hater to a girl smitten with not only the ring but what it symbolises I can honestly say I cannot wait to marry my kind, tall Pat from Bilo. 

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