PICTURE THIS -
It’s the last Friday before I head back to school aka the perfect guise for a last, special “New York day” without attached expectations. Through the expert combination of expected laziness, seeming indecision, an ambling stop at a random CVS where I unnecessarily bought chapstick, and general slow walking, Jen and I magically ended up right outside the door of 12-seater Momofuku Ko at 12:45 on the dot. After she pointed out the establishment (as she usually does when we walk by), I pulled out a tie and swept her inside where our seats awaited. We had our faces stuffed for 2 hours and chatted openly about engagement rings and marriage (to which I lied endlessly about).
Once we were appropriately fat and Jen was convinced I would not be proposing until a few months later, we strolled around the city doing our norm (aka vintage store shopping) until I said we should probably head back to Jersey so I could pack. The bus dropped us off just as the sun was setting (yes, that was intentional too), and Jen unwittingly walked into a Dandorph household filled with candles and flowers. I played a song I had written over the course of 3 years, in which the second to last line just so happened to rhyme with “will you marry me?” Jen cried, forgot to say yes, hugged me (which I interpreted for a yes), and then we feasted on Shake Shack double Shackburgers to seal the deal.
Romantic and fatty - it's kind of our thing.
