Interesting story. Mike and I met while dating other people. Mike's brother Daniel was one of my closest friends in veterinary school. One weekend, Dan invited a few classmates and I to his home in Huntersville for the Queens Cup Steeple Chase, a Hemstreet weekend tradition. I got to casa Hemstreet (oh by the way I brought my boyfriend at the time) and met Daniel's family. Mike was already at the house with his girlfriend at the time, and we were all introduced. No big deal. Fast forward about 6 months: both of our previous relationships had ended, and Mike had moved to Raleigh to live with Dan. Mike messaged me for help planning Dan's surprise birthday party and I didn't hate the idea of getting to know him better (it's the blue eyes). Long story short, Timon the cat ruined the cookie cake, I lost my phone, and we both wound up with each other's phone numbers by the end of the night.

Michael had gotten reservations at a swanky restaurant in Charlotte, the Fig Tree. He was adamant about ordering the cheese plate as our appetizer. But of course. A cheese plate is big deal. So he brings up the cheese plate multiple times throughout the preceding weeks. I get it. There's a cheese plate. Fast forward to the evening of August 14. We're getting dressed and Mike is noticeably nervous. He forgot a mask. He forgot his keys. He couldn't find his wallet. This was the first piece of evidence that something suspicious was afoot. Eventually, we made it out the door and to the restaurant. Mike put the car in park, got out of the car, and proceeded to walk up to the restaurant. "Hey Mike." "What?" "Babe, you've got to turn the car off..." This was the second sign. We get into the restaurant. The car is off and everything is fine. We are escorted to our table and our waitress, noticeably antsy, reviews the night's specials. Immediately, Mike orders...THE CHEESE PLATE. After some cocktails the cheese plate arrives. The waiter begins to explain the various meats and cheeses, then stumbles across some object not normally found on the cheese plate. Mike awkwardly picks up a wooden box and says "I'll take that." and puts it away. This WOULD have been the third sign, but as a lactose intolerant individual, I'm honestly thinking that he may have some sort of special cheese in that box that I am not allowed to have. A few minutes later, Mike stares at me and starts to get teary-eyed. Then I knew. He got down on one knee and afterwards everything was a blur. But, we ended up engaged and I had NONE of the cheese plate. Engagement jitters sank in, random strangers in the restaurant oohed and aahed at the ring, and the rest is history.