proposal
On my 30th birthday I was sitting by the pool with my mother in Boca Raton. I was living in New Jersey at the time, but I had no desire to celebrate such a milestone alone in my crappy studio apartment. A few months earlier I went through a bad break-up with loser #4 (lesson learned: you don’t have to act on every single attraction you feel), and my mom wanted to talk to me about what I learned, what I wanted, and what I was going to do differently, etc. I thought about it for a little while and then made this proclamation: “Mom, I’m never getting married.” I expected the usual “Never say never” or “You just haven’t met the right person” or some other plea to reconsider. In the end, I was her last hope for a granddaughter and I was officially cutting her off from that joy. Instead, she just shrugged and said, “That’s okay, honey. Marriage isn’t for everybody.”
I think deep down she knew - much the way I would know better if some teenager announced that she was never going to fall in love ever again. Silly child. You have no idea what’s in store for you. Still, I felt resolved in my decision and looked forward to the life of the proverbial old maid. Naturally, I was gonna have to start sucking up to my nephews (i.e. remembering their birthdays and then actually buying them presents) because somebody was going to have to take care of me as I grew older. But for the time being I was content.
Until I met Boz.
It was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. My friend, Paul, introduced us at a party and the moment I shook his hand I thought, “I’m going to marry this man.” I can’t really describe it. I just knew. And I never faltered in that idea. Even though he didn’t speak to me the rest of the night. Even though our first date was filled with those awkward moments of “So...” and “Anyway...” and, of course, those million little sips of water you take to avoid having to talk at all. But I was patient (as was he) and our relationship blossomed over time.
He proposed to me on President’s Day. It was perfect. There were no violins, or roses, or champagne. I wasn’t in a beautiful dress, he wasn’t wearing a tux. We were just sitting on the couch holding each other and he looked at me and said, “Will you marry me?” And I said, “Yes.” It was simple and honest. No romance. Just love.
It was the one moment in my life where I really wished I was a girly-girl. I wish I could squeal and fan my fingers frantically in front of my face to keep the tears from ruining my make-up (like I even wear make-up). I really am thrilled in my trademark subdued way. And I’m excited every moment just thinking about the life we’re going to create together.
I think deep down she knew - much the way I would know better if some teenager announced that she was never going to fall in love ever again. Silly child. You have no idea what’s in store for you. Still, I felt resolved in my decision and looked forward to the life of the proverbial old maid. Naturally, I was gonna have to start sucking up to my nephews (i.e. remembering their birthdays and then actually buying them presents) because somebody was going to have to take care of me as I grew older. But for the time being I was content.
Until I met Boz.
It was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. My friend, Paul, introduced us at a party and the moment I shook his hand I thought, “I’m going to marry this man.” I can’t really describe it. I just knew. And I never faltered in that idea. Even though he didn’t speak to me the rest of the night. Even though our first date was filled with those awkward moments of “So...” and “Anyway...” and, of course, those million little sips of water you take to avoid having to talk at all. But I was patient (as was he) and our relationship blossomed over time.
He proposed to me on President’s Day. It was perfect. There were no violins, or roses, or champagne. I wasn’t in a beautiful dress, he wasn’t wearing a tux. We were just sitting on the couch holding each other and he looked at me and said, “Will you marry me?” And I said, “Yes.” It was simple and honest. No romance. Just love.
It was the one moment in my life where I really wished I was a girly-girl. I wish I could squeal and fan my fingers frantically in front of my face to keep the tears from ruining my make-up (like I even wear make-up). I really am thrilled in my trademark subdued way. And I’m excited every moment just thinking about the life we’re going to create together.