I loved the girl, I really did.

We met at our favorite little Italian restaurant, hidden off in a little corner by the park where we first met. We got a table outside because the night was was so warm for the time of the year. I’d called ahead to make sure we got a table, and to arrange something special with the chef. For dessert, I’d order her favorite cake, but without her knowing, have the chef slip the ring inside. I thought it’d be a sweet way to propose, you know?

Well, dinner went smoothly, perhaps a little too smoothly. By the time we got to dessert, we’d both had a little too much wine and were both laughing hysterically at the smallest things. When the waiter brought out the dessert, I could hardly contain my excitement. First bite, second bite, third bite, still nothing. Soon, there was no cake left. And no ring either. I looked at her, slightly perplexed.

“Honey, I think you may have eaten the ring.”