The Rock blessed the rock

My time was seriously running out. The engagement party was to be held in four days and I had not yet popped the question (you know, blah, blah, will you merry me?).
So I booked a table at Asia de Cuba, our favourite restaurant in London. I also invited two good friends for moral support, to share the moment and to try to masquerade my intentions.
The dinner was as grand as it always is at Asia de Cuba but I felt the dishes were coming to fast. Before I knew it, the deserts were served, gulfed down and the bill was on the table – it was crunch time.
To my horror the topic of the discussion had drifted away from the safe wedding plans via risky “who is going to be the next president of the USA” to the right out catastrophic “underage female victims in Israel”.
With no effort of being smooth, I just raised my voice and proclaimed that the real reason why we were gathered was to be able to ask a very important question. With that I proceeded to get down on one knee, having opened the little box with the ring. The dumbstruck expression on my wife to be was suddenly worth all the effort. The answer was another yes.
Unknowing to us, The Rock had been dining with a small party right behind us. They had witnessed my clumsy going-down-on-one-knee act and had a big grin on their faces as we were leaving. When saying hi to them, The Rock looked me in the eyes, nodded in acknowledgement and wished us good luck.

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