The F Word

Those who know me well know that I'm not often inclined to say the F word. Lately, however, it's been on the tip of my tongue, and vocalized, much more often. Let me tell you why...

It all started on the evening of Monday October 3rd. Biscotti and I arranged a date, hired a sub, and enjoyed a very pleasant dinner at the Boathouse at English Bay. We had late reservations, so the view from our top-floor, window-side table was somewhat hampered by the indoor reflection since the sun had already departed. Once we finished our meal we exited onto Denman Street, where we decided to take a bit of a stroll, window shopping and whatnot. As we neared the West End Community Centre, both of us were well aware that Denman was mostly empty except for this one guy who had been walking behind us for a block or two. It was quite late, we were very overdressed for laid-back Denman on a Monday night, and, as already stated, there were very few others around. We stopped at the next intersection, pressed the pedestrian button, and as we waited for the light to turn we watched the guy walk by. We crossed the street and walked back towards the beach.

Later that same night, I went down on one knee and asked Biscotti to marry me. I have a fiancée. I've been calling her, and refering to her as, my fiancée. That is why I've been saying fiancée more than usual during this past week.