"Teammates"

She took it a lot better than I would've.

I admit. I'm young, but where I used to live, most women my age are pretty dang married. I was one of those "I'm going to get married young because that's what we do" type of women. I got nervous before major events, just in case there was a certain question popped, I got a bit jealous when my younger brother and his girlfriend got engaged before I did ... Yes. I was one of those people.

Dave's younger brother is not one of those people.

He's one of those party people. The good-looking, good-natured, fun-to-be around kind of guys. He's the college guy you think of when you hear the phrase "college guy."

He's dating a really cool woman who seems, from the little bit I know her, to fit well with him. She's fun, energetic, etc., etc. And "dating" is new to them ... Until recently they were "teammates," which is a funny way of saying "more than friends, but let's go easy on the b-or-g word there."

And Dave scared the crap outta her.

Since we weren't there to witness her reaction in person, we had to rely on the third-person accounts of the result of Dave's Christmas masterplan.

See, Dave thought "What better way to spread holiday cheer than to make my brother and his girlfriend suffer from a bit of anxiety?" That's Dave. I got a ring for Christmas; a Wasinger family heirloom. After the initial "Aw" moment and as the glow died down from our excitement over my ring, Dave got the idea to use that box as a gift for his brother's girlfriend. You know, as a planted "engagement ring" under the tree for her on Christmas morning.

This for the couple whose most serious talk revolved around the "should we be girlfriend/boyfriend" conversation.

Dave cut out a photo of himself, put it inside the ring box, wrapped it up and gave his family distinct directions to make sure she saw the gift, cleverly marked "To Carly from Joe."

And if my third-party accounts are to be believed, she eyed the tiny package and just kept saying "Uh ... Joe? Joe?" as the rest of the family sat around the tree.

Had I seen that package under the tree, I couldn't say I'd be able to sit there and calmly say "Uh, Dave? Dave?" I'd be the one crawling under the couch, cell phone in hand, ready to dial 911 for myself, should the gift ever make it into my shaking hands.

If Joe would've done that to me and Dave before we were married, you would've heard about it on a TV news blurb: "Woman spontaneously dies after receiving gag gift; details at 10." Because I may be able to dish it out, but I'll be danged if I can take much of the teasing.