One year ago, a lot of things changed.
One year ago, I was pretty miserable, because after trying to organize my own engagement twice (yes, I am a crazy) I was pretty sure that James was never going to come around to it. Let that be a lesson, all ye independent ladies such as myself: if you try to propose to yourself, it will not go over so well. And just because you fabricate the perfect ambiance, doesn’t mean it will happen. But for you menfolk who are reading, a note: if you and your significant other are at that point where she is expecting some bling, do not, DO NOT, lead her blindfolded to the Capital Christmas tree and then say you have a “a very important question to ask her” only to have it be “Would you rather see the tree first with the Capital in the background, or the mall?” She will be devastated and consider dumping you.
Despite the state of my emotions, one year ago, I showed up to meet Liz for the Nutcracker with wet hair, only even having showered because she told me that morning that I smelled bad… and only wearing a dress because she nagged me into it. What I should have been doing was working on final papers for school, but I had never missed seeing the Nutcracker.
One year ago, I was horribly late for said ballet because the Red Line never ever ever runs on time on the weekends and I really just wanted to go find my seat and enjoy the show and pout about how James had the nerve to go out of town for work without proposing. Nothing mends a bruised and impatient heart like tutus and dancing sugarplums.
One year ago, I impatiently stomped around the Kennedy Center terrace trying desperately to find Liz before the show started.
And one year ago, Liz was nowhere to be found.
Because one year ago, James was waiting in the freezing cold December wind with a bunch of roses, a perfect speech and a little box.
One year ago, I said yes to his question — despite a brief lamentation that had I known I was getting engaged, I would have done my hair first. Yes, when he finally popped the question, my answer was “IF I HAD KNOWN I WOULD HAVE PUT MY HAIR IN HOT ROLLERS!” But then came the yes, and the gleeful placing of the ring… on the wrong hand, where it stayed for a couple hours until we calmed down enough to realize it.
Best. Decision. Ever…. the saying yes, that is, not the neglecting to do my hair part.
Thanks Alumbra Photography for the photos!
Ha! I so loved reading through your story again. I am afraid I laughed out loud. . . and had to read my favorite parts to Matthew 🙂 So much happiness!
There was indeed so much happiness at last! But there for awhile there sure was a lot of angst.
LOVE THIS. Would so be my response.
That’s why we’re friends. 🙂
I was suspicious about a ‘casual afternoon’ Bryan had planned for us – and was equally suspicious about my loved ones lying to me. So I painted my nails and colored my hair the night before, just to be safe 🙂
See, you are a thinker. 🙂
Okay, I promise I’m not being weird. But I really love reading your posts! Remember me? The same person who promised to stalk you? I’m nothing if not true to my word. Anyway, I was shocked out of my mind when Jordan proposed. I was all, “Oh I will TOTALLY know when it’s happening” only to basically fall over dead with shock. Not only was my hair not in hot rollers, but I was wearing a winter coat, my oldest pair of jeans, and boots! And not cute boots either. Winter snow boots. Lookin’ good. Not.
I am so glad I stumbled across this, because it makes me feel less weird about how emotionally frustrated I was with my relationship when my boyfriend proposed completely by surprise. I was eating yogurt while we went on this walk, and I was wearing a baggy sweatshirt with outrageously-colored running tights.
You are completely right: you can’t plan your own proposal, because when it happens, it will be better than you could’ve ever imagined.
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