It’s going to be an epic proposal. Twenty of us, seated in a big circle on the blue shag carpet, legs in crisscross applesauce, playing telephone. I look straight at her, blow a kiss across the room and start it off with, “Will you marry me?” Surely they won’t screw this up. Fourteen people later I watch expectantly as they whisper in her ear “Why are you so hairy?”

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Originally published in Citron Review, September 2022