“Are you ever going to ask me?”
“Yeah,” Henry said, completely immune to my nuptial nagging by now.
“Do you even know when?” I prodded, arms crossed in petulance.
His affirmative answer seemed steeped in honesty, inspiring me to probe deeper.
“Is it going to be sometime in 2011?”
Henry said yes, and I screamed, “OMG ARE YOU GOING TO PROPOSE AT WARPED TOUR?”
He gave me a “don’t be stupid” smirk.
“But that would be so perfect,” I whined.
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “For YOU.”
Um, isn’t that the point?
Then I asked him if he planned on asking my dad for my hand (lol) but Henry reminded me that after we’ve lived together for ten years and spawned a child from our mutual hatred, my dad probably couldn’t care less either way.
Maybe by the time Henry finally puts a ring on it, Jonny Craig’s career will have collapsed upon itself faster than his veins and I can snag him to sing at our reception on the cheap.