[img]958|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — I am engaged. My S.O. asked me to marry him. I said yes. We are very excited.
It wasn’t a total surprise; I think we talked about it on our first date. We’ve talked about getting married for the past year and a half. It felt real when we picked the date, before he proposed. Yes, we picked a date before he proposed. We did things a little bit out of order. Here’s the order in which our engagement proceeded:
1. Look at rings
2. Set a date
3. Buy the dress
4. Buy S.O.’s outfit
5. Reserve the venue
6. Hire the photographer
7. Pick the ring
8. Proposal
I know, I know, the proposal usually comes first. Well, hey; we are not your ordinary couple. You might say we march to the beat of a different drummer. In this day and age, couples can do whatever they want. We could have told our friends our plans as they occurred. S.O., however, is a romantic. He really wanted to ask me to marry him, proper-like.
We went to the jeweler to choose the engagement ring. We chose it pretty quickly, having looked at it months before. We were all smiles as we made the final arrangements and began walking out the door. Suddenly, I remembered an important question. “Um, how long will it take to make?” I asked, my hand on the door. We were told it would be 6 to 10 weeks. As soon as we got home, I circled 6 and 10 weeks from that date so that I would know approximately when the proposal would be happening.
As the weeks went by, I gave S.O. not so subtle hints about proposal preparation. I said to him on more than one occasion, “Honey, if you need to run an errand (with exaggerated air quotes) without me, that’s fine, I’ll just stay home and catch up on email, or whatever.” Sometimes I’d add a wink, just so he’d get the hint. I asked him if he knew how he was going to propose. He told me he had some ideas. When it got close to being 6 weeks, I’d ask, “Has Jeweler called yet?” “Nope”, he’d answer.
In between my hinting and hawing, life went on. We went to see my FMIL in Rhode Island. As we were driving past the mall, I asked if we could stop there on the way home to grab a bite. S.O. said sure. We paid our visit, and got some dinner afterwards. We saw that Waterfire was still happening, right across the street from the mall.
Waterfire is an annual event in Providence, Rhode Island. Bonfires are lit up and down the middle of the Woonasquatucket River, so it looks like the water is literally on fire. It’s beautiful. They play recorded music from loudspeakers. Every once in awhile, a boat comes by with people who stoke the fires.
When we were done with dinner, S.O. asked if we could go across the street and look at the fire. I said sure. It was crowded, but we managed to find an empty bench to sit on. As we sat there, we listened to opera music. Carmen, my favorite opera, started playing. I thought to myself, “This would be a nice setting for a proposal.” I didn’t say anything to S.O., though, because I didn’t want to ruin any other plan he might have had.
After awhile, I started to get cold. It was late, so I told S.O. I wanted to go. He said, “Okay, but before we do…” and that man got down on one knee, said, “I love you, will you marry me?” and sat back on the bench in one motion. I squealed and said, “Yes!”, and behind us, a group of teenagers burst into applause. It was great. The ring was put on my finger, and I went over to the teenagers to wag my hand in front of their faces. They oohed and ahhed (even the boys, it was adorable).
S.O. had accomplished his proposal mission — the only thing he wanted to do was surprise me; it didn’t really matter how or when it was done. He didn’t want me to know that the ring had been made a week after we picked it out, and that he had had it for weeks before he proposed. He didn’t want to “run that errand,” knowing I’d know what he was doing.
Surprise me, he did. I’m still giddy when I look at my ring. Next time we visit Jeweler, it will be to pick out our wedding bands. And I guess I’ll switch from saying “S.O.” to F.H.” Future Husband sounds kinda nice.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
