I woke up Sunday morning in my friend's guest bed with a splitting headache and a diamond ring on my finger. No, I didn't wake up in Vegas ... Nashville actually -- close enough. I was in Nashvegas for the CMA Music Festival, and apparently my own version of the movie The Hangover.

I chased an Advil with some Pepto and sat down to look through my camera to try and figure out why it appeared as though I had randomly gotten engaged.

On my camera was a slide show of me taking shots out of medicine cups with some Titans cheerleaders at the Tin Roof, breaking it down with an old lady who looked like Betty White on the field of LP Stadium and wearing a sailor's hat while saluting said sailors with Kid Rock and Martina McBride singing on the stage right behind us.

Meanwhile, there was also a performance pic of Hootie without his Blowfish, a pic of my friends at a bar that had "naked karaoke," and me with Nashville star Chris Young. Wait! I have his number in my phone from when he got my number off my business card and sent me a text ... Did he propose to me? No such luck...

Then I saw a picture of a guy from my hometown whom I hadn't seen in years, and it all came back to me, every word. He was a boy (pause) friend, as opposed to a boyfriend or friend-boy, meaning I have never even so much as made out with him. But he met up with me claiming he had two things he'd been wanting to tell me: one, that I looked like I had come out of a Nazi concentration camp after cheering for the Panthers, and the other, that he loved me.

He said that after reading about me getting my heart broken on the AOL welcome page as though it was news or something, he didn't want me to think that I'd went all those years unloved. So in true rural Virginia fashion, he pretend proposed to me with a real ring right there in the middle of Paradise Park -- a trailer park bar ... and it hit me like a shot of tequila. I mean, how do you say no to that ... nicely?

For live reviews of the CMA Music Festival and to see said slide show, check out BrittneyAfterDark.com