Diamond Ring, Red Corvette, and a Feral Cat

This week Mama Kat invited us to write about really special Valentine’s Day memories instead of dead childhood pets. So I’m pretty much jumping on the opportunity. http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/

I am very fortunate to be in love with a thoughtful, romance-inclined guy who out does me at every single gift-giving event in life. This means we have lots of special  Valentine’s Day memories, but one stands out in my mind. It was the weekend of the final Valentine’s Day before we were married, which will be thirteen years ago this summer. I like to say things the longest way possible.

This story takes place on a cool Friday evening in Oklahoma City. Handsome and I were solo for the weekend. We must not have had any certain plans, because he picked me up from my apartment sort of last minute for what turned out to be dinner at Eddy’s, a special steak restaurant in Bethany that is now, sadly, closed. I was wearing jeans and a long sleeved pink t-shirt and almost no makeup. I know for sure he was wearing a black leather jacket, because the smell of leather is heavy in this memory. He was as strong and good looking as ever. With zero effort.

We sat in the quiet, dimly lit restaurant and ate our meal slowly, talking and being in love. It’s so easy for me to drum up the emotion from that dinner, because I still feel it all the time. We indulged in the requisite beef ribs and cabbage roll appetizers, those hot, fluffy baked potatoes, and the most perfect charbroiled, marbled steak you will ever allow to melt in your greedy little mouth. If memory serves we also split an obscenely wide slice of chocolate-chip cheesecake.  Eventually, filled to the brim with great food and simmering in soft, easy romance, we collected what remained of our feast into a Styrofoam box. We left the restaurant and drove off in his curvy red Stingray corvette. Things were about to get interesting.

On nights when we are free to just drive around in a fun car, anything could happen. I am happy just being a passenger, just succumbing to the speed and power of whatever car he happens to be driving, sure, but really… I’m succumbing to him. I love to have my left hand on his right thigh and feel him dig deep into the accelerator.

Anyway.

On this particular night we drove to Lake Hefner in Oklahoma City and parked beneath a well lit flagpole, near the super old red white and blue metal playground. (If you’re from here you know exactly where I’m describing.) As we exited the Vette, we decided to remove the T-tops so the smells of our leftover food wouldn’t be overwhelming later.

What is that they say about hindsight? And twenty-twenty?

So. Handsome walked me to a beautiful spot near the high flying American flag. He was all muscular arms and cologne and leather jacket, and we smooched like there was no tomorrow. Almost wordlessly he gave me a narrow, sparkling gold band bearing three diamonds, one large one in the center for me flanked by two sightly smaller diamonds, one for each of my girls, both still toddlers. He really could have given me the ring at the restaurant, but this spot was important to us and I appreciated the absence of embarrassing fanfare but overdose of eye contact and meaningful affection. It was, just like every other romantic gesture of his, perfect.

Then things got interesting.

We strolled back in the dark, a newly engaged couple, floating on that strong, bright  cloud of belief that the future holds only good things for people this in love.

We approached the Corvette and had our hands poised on the door handles when it happened.

Do you know how in cartoons, a whirlwind is actually visible? Like, you can see not only the item or creature that is spinning, but also the air around it? You can see the lines of its spinning motion tracing concentric spirals in faster and tighter patterns? That. Like, the Tasmanian Devil. That’s what I saw first.

After that I saw the cat. Maybe two. Yes, at least two feral cats had hopped into our car and tried to help themselves to the steak and potatoes held inside that Styrofoam box. They were fighting over it or with it, it was hard to tell. But the chaos in that small black interior was intense. They were screeching and hissing and there was much fur.

Then I saw my fiancee of exactly three minutes. His face. Oh my goodness, I have only seen his face like this a few times in our life together. He was frozen in what I can only describe as shock and awe. His beautiful show car being scratched at and most likely sprayed by at least thirteen wild bobcats or tigers, it was hard to tell. Things were officially Out. Of. Hand.

I do not remember exactly how we got the rabid lions and bears out of the car. But I am kind of thinking it had to do with just opening the door. The Styrofoam box was still closed but toppled onto the floor and etched with angry claw and bite marks. I remember having to bite the inside of my cheek and look up at the stars to not bust out laughing. In fact, right now as I type this Handsome is across the room from me and I still feel guilty laughing at this thirteen year old memory.

LOL

He was not amused then, and he is not terribly amused now. But at least I wasn’t reading about Ted Bundy the night we got engaged.

Happy Cat Scratch Fever Valentine’s Day, babe. I love you more than you can imagine. And let’s just eat at home this year.

Steak is Natural, Steak is Good

Not Everybody Eats it 

But Everybody Should

XOXOXO