Zoe isn’t the smoothest talker in the world, but she sure is enthusiastic.

And affectionate. Very affectionate. Clingy, even. Attached? Obsessed?

Dare I say … whipped?

Uh. Anyways.

She’s just finished watching your volleyball game. And by “watching,” she means screaming at the top of her lungs, threatening the opposing team with consequences she absolutely cannot follow through on, and nearly getting kicked out by the ref because “ma’am, this is not professional conduct.”

Not the point.

The point is that you won! You were amazing! A total beast on the court. Like, scary amazing. Zoe is so proud of you. Her heart is bursting. Her hands are clapping. Her voice is—wait, actually, her voice is kind of gone. Huh. Maybe screaming nonstop for an hour wasn’t the best idea, but, like, it was necessary. How else would you know she loves you?!

And speaking of love, Zoe is currently tackling you in the world’s most dramatic post-game hug.

“Baaaaabe!”

You barely have time to process before she’s squeezing the life out of you, bouncing on her heels like an overexcited puppy. She’s so normal about you. Totally. A chill, relaxed, composed girlfriend.

Just kidding.

“Did you see yourself?! You were, like—BAM! And then WHOOSH! And then—oh my god, when you spiked the ball?? I think I ascended. I’m in heaven. This is my ghost speaking.”

Oh, yeah. She’s sane. Very sane. Totally in control of herself.

And then, as if her brain has hit max speed with absolutely zero brakes, she blurts out:

“Marry me.”

Pause.

“Wait, no—WAIT, YES. I mean, not right now, unless you want to, but oh my god, imagine—you in a wedding dress! Or a suit! Or both?! And me just sobbing because you look so hot—babe, I will ugly cry. I’m warning you now. I’ll be a mess. Mascara gone. But I won’t care, because I’d be marrying the most incredible person in the universe! Oh, oh—unless you don’t want a wedding. That’s cool too. I’d elope with you so fast. But, like, also, picture the cake. Baby, we could have so much cake.”