Engagement Story

If you’re gag reflex strong, just stop reading now… this could get quite mushy.

Now that I’ve given fair warning, I’ll tell you all Andrew and my engagement story. We were engaged almost exactly one year ago in Paris. We’d planned a trip just after EPT Grand Final last year to visit his mom who lived here. Last minute, Card Player decided not to send to me to cover the event, but we were set on going overseas anyway.

I had never been out of the country aside for the Bahamas for PCA twice and once to Canada once to get hamboned when I was 19, which I feel doesn’t really count. Needless to say, I was wetting my pants with excitement. We packed our bags and I brushed up on my French (which I’d studied for 2 years in college and couldn’t remember a damn thing), and away we went.

We stayed with Andrew’s mom and stepdad in Versailles. It was so wonderful to have them take us around town and do the “touristy” stuff. We went to the Louvre, a Paris Saint Germain soccer game (they lost 0-1 after an own-goal), and ate, ate, ate. I remember being soooo obsessed with how good the food is!

Andrew and I decided to get out and spend one night on our own in a hotel room in Paris. We booked the most reasonably priced, centrally located room we could find close to the Eiffel Tower. We stayed at Hotel D’Eiffel Jardins, which I highly recommend for anyone who doesn’t mind a small room.

Throughout the trip, we both experienced the worst jet lag ever. It felt like we always wanted to sleep. Determined not to waste all of our time tired, we pinky swore to only take a quick cat nap, and that we would DEF get up when the alarm went off. 60 short minutes later, we woke up got dressed, and groggily stumbled out of the hotel to find dinner.

At 10:30 p.m. the street cafes were still bustling. I love that Parisians eat so late. We vetoed a couple of places along the way until we found one that looked suitable and had seating outside. We took our places at a tiny round, two-person table, and immediately ordered a couple of beers. I can’t remember what exactly we ordered (well, one of us got a steak, I remember that), but I can remember the rest of the scene pretty distinctly.

The streets were dark and the outside tables of the restaurant were covered by an off white tarp. It was dimly lit, and a soundtrack of happy French conversation and faint clanging silverware and wine glasses played in the background. Andrew and I had an amazingly wonderful time. We talked about everything from our friends, sports, to mundane, everyday things. Even when we weren’t talking, we enjoyed the comfortable, familiar feeling of knowing someone so well, that we didn’t need to say anything out loud.

Once the meals were cleared, we started talking about our future… where we see ourselves in five years. It wasn’t a mystery that we both knew we’d be together. From about a year or two into our relationship, it was pretty clear that this was it.  This was what songs are written about. This was what romanticists dream about, and pessimists claim never happens. This was what true love was supposed to be.

Then, he took my hand and walked over to my side of the table. He kneeled, and set an off white square box on the table. My heart stopped and blood rushed to my face. I was 110 percent completely and utterly surprised.

At this point, things begin to blur, which I’ve heard adrenaline can do to you. It was whirl wind of emotion, but without a doubt, I obviously said yes.  I wish I could remember what he said to me word for word, but I honestly can’t. I can say, though, that he included all the right and wonderful things a man is supposed to say when proposing and I couldn’t have been happier.

And that is how it went down… I’m sure some of you are relieved to know that he didn’t propose in front of the Eiffel Tower or something cliché like that. It was the perfect time, and the perfect place.

Now that we’re back in Paris, we decided to go try and find the same café. This morning we found it, and it was sort of surreal to see it again. Hopefully, it won’t be the last, and we’ll be one of those cool couples who go back every 10 anniversaries or something.

(Sidenote: We used to think of a smoky bar in Fort Wayne where people play poker called VIP, as one of our relationship landmarks since we had our first date there. We met at a restaurant I worked at when I butted into a conversation he was having when I heard him say poker. Obv we went out to play together the next day. He knew I was a keeper when he went all in short stacked from the small blind after someone limped on the button, and I reshipped all in from the big blind for “protection.” Unfortunately I got limp called by Q-J, Andrew had K-Q, and I had K-3. He won the pot though… I think.)

Anyway!! Andrew is absolutely the most wonderful fiancé I could ask for. Obviously, he has all the huge important traits like amazing looks and a hot booty, haha but he also does all the small things. Just yesterday, he was awake before me so he decided to play heads up online while I was asleep. He was using the mouse but was afraid the clicking noise would wake me up so he put his hand under the covers so it wouldn’t be so loud. HOW CUTE IS THAT? I sometimes wonder whether it really is the small things that matter most or if I’m so spoiled that I take the big things he does for granted.

Ok, I’m sure that even those of you guys with the best control over their gag reflexes are struggling, so I’ll stop now…

WPT stuff is over tonight, so tomorrow, Andrew and I are heading to Brussels for one day. That should be tons of fun. Then, it’s back to Vegas.

That’s it for now! PEACE

-Kris

Ohhh yeah, also, for you poker people, I’m keeping a poker blog over at DeucesCracked about my experience getting coaching from one of the best poker teachers EVER…. The series has gotten a lot of great feedback, and I’m really proud of it SOOOOo check it out.