This is an engagement story. And who doesn’t love a good engagement story, am I right? The Original Boo and I have been together for-like-ever. Seriously. Since I was something crazy like 19 or something. At some point around age 23 or so, I started to get the itch. The ladies will know what I mean because they have had or possibly even have the itch right now. The fellas will know what I mean because, well, they have to deal with us ladies. Usually you can pin the blame on your friends. One of them will inevitably take the first leap and then the rest will follow suit. Before you know it, everyone around you has paired up and gotten hitched. People who know that you and your man have been together for a few years start asking, “Sooooooo, when will you guys get married?” or “What is he waiting for?” and after a while you simply cannot stand the questions anymore. You’ll hit a summer where you practically have a wedding or wedding shower or even a baby shower every weekend. The nerve of all of these people flaunting their legally committed love when you can’t even get him to put a darn ring on it! I remember driving to yet another wedding and thinking in my head that if he didn’t propose soon, he’d be flying solo to any and all future events.
The brass (or platinum) ring finally started to seem like it was within my reach one winter when my dreams came true and we stepped into the abnormally bright lights of a jewelry store and had fancy sales people adorning my bare finger with various cuts, shapes and sizes of diamonds. But then a few more months passed… and nothing. I’d decided to accept the fact that it would happen when it happened and to stop asking, pressuring, praying and hoping. I’d gone to see Sex and the City with two of my friends one weekend and one of them asked me about when I thought I’d get engaged over glasses of wine afterwards. I said that I had no idea and that I was ok with it. I knew that it wasn’t going to be soon, so I was no longer driving myself crazy waiting.
Exactly one week later, I got home from work on an extremely hot Saturday evening. I was tired and sweaty and just wanted to sit on the couch. I came in the house expecting to order a pizza or something and watch TV on the couch in comfy clothes, but when I walked in the door, the Original Boo was surprisingly energized and suggested that we go to a restaurant. He’s never really been a huge fan of heading to a restaurant on a weekend night at peak dinner hours and who can blame him?! I suggested my pizza and couch idea, but he offered my favorite – The Cheesecake Factory. This was about 1/2 hour away and it was the summer of 2008 when gas prices were sky-high. I told him that sounded crazy! Then he suggested a restaurant even further away that he said I would love. I again pointed the impracticality of this due to the unreasonably high gas prices, but he insisted.
I changed out of my work clothes and was trying to figure out what would go best with the exhaustion and sweat that I was currently wearing. I may have tried to put on something pajama-like and the Original Boo suggested that I pick out something a little “nicer”. I begrudgingly pulled a sundress out of my closet, made myself look presentable and we headed out. I was still wondering what all of the fuss was about. When we got to the restaurant he asked me if I would rather go somewhere else. He said that maybe this wasn’t nice enough. I looked at him with bewilderment and wondered where my boyfriend had gone and who exactly had driven me an hour away from home to this restaurant that allegedly wasn’t nice enough. We’d been together for 7 years. There were no nerves on dates. No need to try to impress the other with elaborately planned displays of romance. I said that I thought it seemed nice and we should sit down and eat!
Halfway through my second beer, he moved it aside and said that I probably shouldn’t drink too much – yes I am and was a lightweight – but I can handle two beers. He asked me if I wanted to take a walk on the beach after dinner. “Huh?” At this point I was sure that something strange must have happened to my boyfriend while I was at work. Neither one of us would really be classified as the romantic type, so this sounded very odd to me.
We went back to the car and he rummaged around the backseat saying he was looking to change his shoes for the beach. I was wondering if this was some sort of alien abduction and hoped that my best friend would be able to safely get my collection of shoes and purses so that their fabulousness could live on. We walked down the beach holding hands. He started talking about things like the future and love and I still had no idea where this was going. I bent down to pick up a shell and went to the water to wash it off. When I got back over to him, he was looking down in the sand and said that he’d found an even better one. I leaned over to take a look at what he was showing to me, from his one-knee stance down in the sand and it wasn’t a shell. It was a velvet box holding a Tiffany set diamond solitaire. “Will you marry me?” Those four words that had been haunting and antagonizing me for so many years. The words that I had wanted to hear for so long. And I replied with what every man wants to hear with one knee in the sand and a ring in his hand, “What happened????????” Because for some reason I just could not believe that this was actually happening, so I just kept repeating “What happened? What happened?” until he had to ask me if I was saying yes. “YES!! I am saying yes!!”
After sealing the deal with a kiss, I quickly broke away to run to the nearest light source so that I could better check out my new bling bling. And that my friends, is a good engagement story. In fact some might even say a great one.
Now tell me yours!