Last week, I got a note from a guy I barely know who will be at wedding I’m going to in Massachusetts in three weeks. He’s four years older than me, lives in Michigan and was an All-American soccer player at Kalamazoo college, my alma mater. Last time I saw him was about six years ago at a bar in Chicago and we barely talked because he forgot his ID and got kicked out.
He wrote: “Re: Hi Erin!”
And, in the body of the email: “Will you marry me?”
I wrote back: “obviously!”
I don’t even know how he got my email.
But yeah, dude. Let’s tie that knot.
He’s Greek, says he’s got “freakish Greek strength” and promises a Greek wedding like “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” Sign me up.