If you follow me on Twitter, you already know.
If you don’t, you should.
But none of that matters right now… We got engaged!
We’ve been talking about getting married for nearly a year now, perching on forever only a couple moments into our relationship, but when I slipped the ring on my finger, it all felt different.
Yes, I’d looked at six venues after O told me to “book a date.” Yes, I had been working on our wedding budget, tirelessly moving money around to make everything work right. Yes, I had booked our band, our friends the Rolling Head Orchestra.
But when I looked at that ring on my finger, it all seemed real. Realer. I looked at O as my near-husband, rather than the boyfriend I’m going to marry.
Around Thursday of last week, he started mentioning casually, yet often, how we ought to take Magnolia on walks together more often, that it’s good for her. I agreed, naturally, but he pressed the issue. He set a date to walk the dog, which I found a bit odd, but figured he simply felt guilty for not seeing her as much as he’d like.
On Saturday, I woke up raring to go, slipping on ugly, yet comfy sneaks for last-minute shopping, wrapping, cooking, and baking. I was quickly told to sit back down, that today’s “special”, and I’ll “see later”, and to “trust him for once in my life”.
I’d had my suspicions, as I had accidentally intercepted a text from my mom, when I picked up his phone, loudly announcing I was going to text her on his phone. The last thing he’d sent was something about thinking the 22nd was a good day, that it was before Christmas but still during holiday parties. My mom agreed, urging him to just “get it over with” so he could “finally relax”, complete with myriad smiley faces and exclamation points.
A few weeks before, around Thanksgiving, he’d told me he was going to buy a ring, but as the prospective day approached, he began to change his mind a bit, though he still had to “do something with your mom” on Black Friday. I’d picked out a ring that I loved, and I knew he was still going to go make the big purchase.
Yet the day of, I told him to “have fun buying the ring” or something, and he seemed upset at my knowing! So he called a couple hours later, telling me that with all the fees and services added on, the ring was too expensive. And we’d keep looking.
I was disappointed, yet figured something was up. I felt he’d been a bit disappointed in realizing I was in on the plot, though he’d asked me to pick the exact ring.
A few drinks after the Grizzlies game that night, he unwittingly ended a sentence with “…after all the money I spent today!” I took note; he never caught his slip.
But when I happened upon that text from my mom, it kickstarted an unparalleled excitement, with its own daily countdown. Everyday got closer to “the day”, though I had my doubts, assuming he might change his mind yet again.
Around last Thursday, he began mentioning how important it is to take Magnolia on walks together and suggested we plan one for Saturday afternoon. I thought nothing of it but kept my eyes on the approaching Saturday, a day I was sure would change my life.
Friday night at the Grizz game, O told me that instead of brunch with my parents this weekend, we’d be going to dinner with them. “Something nice, but not Flight or anything.” My dad blew the surprise, remarking that he was excited to take us to dinner at Ruth’s Chris the next night. My mom hit him with her scarf, and he added, “For Christmas, you know.”
So on Saturday morning, I woke with wide eyes and grinned to myself, like a little girl dreams of one day being a princess. “Today could be the day!” I thought, but we had what seemed like a trillion errands to run for the upcoming holiday.
“We aren’t doing any of that. Today’s a special day. You’ll see later. Trust me. For once in your life.”
I was sure of it at this point and he told me to be ready at 3:45 to take Mags on a walk. I entered my bathroom with a prom night-inspired mentality, complete with a deep condition and perfect, touch-nothing-for-60-minutes manicure (of course, everyone would be looking at my ring, right?). I highlighted and contoured for photo-ready cheekbones and threw on a casual, yet clearly styled classic outfit. Much tighter and less comfortable than I’d ever wear on a regular walk along the river.
We began our walk in the crisp air, as the sun began to think about setting in the clear sky.
If he starts talking about the relationship, then it’ll be definite.
“I’ve just been thinking a lot lately…. I just… I really love pepperoncinis. We need to eat more of them.”
But as soon as I could even begin to think about what this comment meant for my engagement predictions, he began,
“So it all started with a message, huh? Did I message you or did you message me? But, anyway.. I really think we’re so good together. We value the same things and we get along so well.”
I was less sarcastic than I otherwise would have been, given the examined context. I told him I agreed, as I did in my heart.
He began to breathe heavy, like he’d just come in from a run, and he got down on one knee. I couldn’t tell you what he said, but I think it went something like this “Beautiful…rest of my life…love you more than…will you marry me?”
I was laughing hysterically, brimming with glee I was no longer able to contain, tickled by him, so nervous, actually doing it. I said yes. I kissed him and pulled him up to me. I held him close to me for what seemed like hours.
“Wait, wait, let me reenact this,” he said and got back down on one knee.
“…And…look to your left and smile!”
My parents, dressed in head-to-toe black, emerged from the bushes with DSLR’s and video cameras. They were laughing, smiling, and perhaps crying.
It’s real now. I have a ring on my finger! I thought I’d look at it and love the ring, of course, but nothing would have really changed. Why would it? We’d been planning for months already. Of course I’d no longer feel like the crazy girl looking at wedding venues without being engaged. Of course I wouldn’t feel like other girls thought I was loco, pushing a man into something he wasn’t ready for. O has been asking me to marry him for over a year–in the car, on the street, reading before bed.
But now, it’s real. He’s my future husband, my groom-to-be. The father of my future children. My co-taster at wedding cake bakeries. This is it, y’all.
Well.. here we go!
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