Look, you guys know me. You know I love love. I love holding hands as the leaves are falling. I like to snuggle up next to my beloved whilst the fire cracks underfoot and the waves crash on the shore. Theres nothing like a simple, “welcome home, honey” kiss when you walk in the door after shooting a personal best 83 on the home course. That’s life and it is beautiful.
Please dont take my take about this situation lightly. I’ve wrestled with it overnight but I must say something. I must defend true love.
This is an absolute abomination and the woman should reconsider immediately. In fact, she should delete his number, block his number, and never talk to him again.
What are you, common street trash? Have some self-respect. My god, folks. It’s preseason game 1. You cannot ask for someone’s hand in marriage in such a fashion. Id rather you pop the question over a bucket of biscuits at a fucking Cracker Barrel than in BALTIMORE during Preseason game one. Even for a preseason crowd, it had thinned. The coaches aren’t even there during the 4th quarter but your Prince Charming, the man you wanna wake up to every single morning, still is playing pocket pool with the ring he got on clearance at Jared. Disgusting.
Wanna get engaged in Baltimore? Fine. Go to the Harbor. Go to a nice dinner. Wait until sunset and have a nice crisp white that takes the sting off of a summer’s evening. Do it during the Golden Hour so her eyes pop like Dave’s when he’s on his hammock in Nantucket.
Dont do it on the rail of the fucking Raven’s stadium during the 4th quarter of a BLOWOUT SHUTOUT of your team. Simply Barbaric even. Let that word resound! BARBARIC!