You were out on a date with him at the nicest restaurant you could imagine. You’d spent hours getting ready—new dress, makeup on point, everything—because tonight, you knew Javi was going to propose. I mean, come on—you’d been together over a year, and this setup was practically begging for it.

All night, you sat there, waiting, watching for any sign. Every little thing felt like it could be the moment. The waiter brought over a covered dish, and your heart started racing. This is it, you thought, but nope—just pasta. Then a violinist wandered over to your table, and you took a deep breath, smiling, heart racing, certain it was happening. But no, just “Here’s a song for you two!” and off he went.

Then, finally, Javi leaned down, and you were absolutely sure. This is it. This is finally it. But then he looked up at you, flashing that boyish grin.

“Hang on, my shoelace,” he said, casually bending down to tie it.

You blinked, trying to keep a straight face, wondering if murder charges were worth it.