I’ve had many nicknames: Dewey, Dew, Dewdrop, Dewfuhr to name a few. Matt calls me HoneyDew and swears that he knew he would marry me from the first time he saw me. At a bar. After I didn’t give him my number.
He is unabashedly persistent.
After about four years of knowing each other, Matt planned a weekend trip for us to visit some friends in North Carolina. About half way through the car ride, I realized that we weren’t actually heading in the right direction. When I questioned Matt, he pulled out a blindfold and told me that I wasn’t allowed to ask any more questions. My interest was piqued!
When I opened my eyes, we were at a mountain cabin in north Georgia, aptly named Mountain Sunset. This was the same cabin we had come to on our very first weekend trip together. At this point, I knew something was up. I was on pins and needles to see how he was going to do it. Matt was calmly sitting on the couch and asked if I wanted something to eat. How could anyone be hungry at a time like this?
He pulled out a honeydew melon (remember the nickname?) and asked me to cut some for a snack. I put the knife into the melon and it fell into two pieces, and inside there was a ring box. To this day, I still have no idea how he got that to happen so absolutely perfectly. I turned around and he was on one knee. The rest of the story is fuzzy – crying, phone calls, champagne. But five years later, I still remember spending the entire weekend snuggling by the fireplace and eating a lot of melon!