When you get drunk with your boyfriend at the lake and decide to get engaged while under the influence of a decent-sized bottle of Jim Beam, you don’t exactly get the whole kneel-down, velvet-box proposal. No, what you get is peeling your face off a mattress the next morning and wondering where your pants are and oh my God, donde tacos?, and oh yeah, forever love.
But I’m of the School of Functional Alcoholic Thought that subscribes to the idea that alcohol just lubes you up for stuff you really want to do in your secret heart, rather than forces you to do things you’d rather not. So not only do I not regret our engagement story, I think it’s true to who Patrick and I are (enthusiastic boozers) and what kind of relationship we have (the kind where we do s**t the way we like to do it.)
The drunkgagement is also a good way to end up being engaged without a ring, because who just goes around getting wasted with diamonds in their pockets? I mean, besides fancy people, obviously. Keep reading »