A Super Bowl Love Story

In late August 1996, I attended a bridal shower tea for my sister in law to be, Melanie Hull.  Her Aunt Shirley had created a beautiful party out on the back lawn, flowers and china and everyone in girly dresses. But most lovely of all was Melanie. I fell in love with her dress. It was my dream dress. Floral print. Georgette. Flowy. Bell/Cape Sleeve. Tea Length. Perfect Tea dress.

I “pinned” it in my mind. That’s what we had to do back then. I knew that if I ever married – and hopefully that dashing Frank – that was the dress I wanted for my bridesmaids. 

Furthermore… I had always hoped that if I could, I would provide the dresses for my bridesmaids. I had been in a couple of weddings and the expense was always difficult. It seemed like kind of a boobie prize to me. Hey, my dearest friends in the world, please be in my wedding so I can shove you over the precipice and into debt. Oh and make sure you check out my bridal registry!

In January 1997, I was pretty hopeful, well almost certain that Frank was going to propose and I had begun in earnest to look for that dress – well dresses. I was an assistant buyer at Gottschalks, in the gift department, and had enlisted the dress buyer to see what she could find. We knew the designer and I had a photograph of Melanie in the dress. She looked but could not find the dress or anything remotely similar. I had exhausted every rack in every department store I could find. Having the no go from the dress buyer seemed to put the nail in the coffin of that dress and I began to think I would have to go another direction.

Like most young adults, I was poor. If I could do any real shopping at all, it had to be in the discount stores, which by the way, I still love. I walked into Marshalls on the Thursday before Super Bowl Sunday and que the angel choir… the very first rack in the store held 6 of the very dress I had searched for, for months. I dashed to the rack. Oh the joy! It wasn’t the exact print, but lovely still. And best of all - $19.99 each. Was it possible?! But it wasn’t. Not really.  I could think of 4 girls I would like to have in the wedding party and I knew I didn’t have $80.00 plus tax hanging around in my wallet. Nor could I very well ask girls to be in a wedding when I hadn’t even been proposed to yet!

Would someone snatch them up?

Should I ask my mom to buy them.  – no she had begun to give up hope that Frank would ever propose anyways.

Sigh.

I gave the dresses a loving pat and wished them well.

Now Frank and I had begun to talk like this…. “Well, IF we got married….. would you….” And so I timidly posed this question on the way to church on Super Bowl Sunday morning… “So…. If we got married….. how many groomsmen do you think you might want to have?” 

Frank: “ Why do you ask?” 

So I unpacked the story. Each little bit until I got to the climax that I had in fact found the dress at Marshalls! And if he knew how many groomsmen, I would know how many bridesmaids and maybe, just maybe I could scrape together the money and buy them and keep them until…. And of course they would be returnable if……..

Frank took my hand and said….”why don’t we go take a look at them after the Super Bowl party.” 

I know.

Be still my heart.

I don’t know who played that day. I know I attended a party a Pam and Randy Hopkins house and I know I was dancing on cloud 9. I played some games, I watched commercials with everyone but all the while, I was watching the clock with baited breath because Marshalls closed at 6:00 on Sundays.

We made it.

I hurried Frank into the store, worried that they would be gone. But no, they were all still miraculously there! How could dozens of people walked by these dream dresses since Thursday and not one snatched up… stupid people. 

But yay, all still here.

We talked over who we would have in the wedding party…

 IF we got married.

And Frank slowly said to me by that rack of lovely rose printed dresses, “why don’t we buy them?”

I confessed I couldn’t, I didn’t have the money.

He said, “why don’t I buy them?”

I was shaking… no not because of the dresses. 

I searched his face, “Are you sure?” I asked.

“Aren’t you?” He replied.

Swoon.

So on Super Bowl Sunday of 1997 I walked out of Marshalls carefully holding four dresses that I would never wear myself.  

Those darling little dresses danced secretly in my closet for two weeks – a private secret between Frank and I. Two weeks before anyone else knew.

They danced every time I opened the doors. And they sang too. They sang a little song that told me that Frank loved me and he was going to marry me.