How do I tell my boss or a client with whom I’m having drinks, “My husband popped the question when we were in bed”? But despite the intimate details, I relish being asked about the proposal because with it, comes a flood of memories of that day, August 11th, 2008. We had only known each other a little over four months, but ours was a fast and furious love. When I first met him, waiting for me inside the entrance of an old timey restaurant that was half-way between my place and his, I’d never seen a kinder, more beautiful face. Our face-to-face meeting was preceded by a virtual meeting of sorts—so 21st century, right?—when I messaged him on Match.com. We emailed back and forth about our hobbies, careers, and families, and traded links to hilarious YouTube videos. The night we finally met in person, we closed down the restaurant: talking—much like our online banter—came so easy and naturally that time all but evaporated.
Our courtship was wonderful. Drives along the coast to Santa Barbara, concerts, the meeting of each other’s friends and families—it all was so easy and natural and lovely, so unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Before I knew it, I told my roommates I was moving out, and I packed my bags to live with Patrick. It was three months in that he started to slip questions like, “What kind of diamonds do you like?” I hadn’t given it much thought because in all honesty, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever meet “the one” and get married. Strolling around different malls, he’d lead me into jewelry stores to try on a variety of rings. Sure, I had friends and family question the speed of our relationship, but I felt confident that I had been fortunate enough to meet my other half. I was 27, he 28, and as clichéd as it sounds, we just knew.
August 11th, 2008 was a Monday. Patrick had the day off, and I decided to play hooky. We headed to the city with the intent of going to the GiftCenter (a wholesale jewelry warehouse near the Civic Center) to look at more rings. I found one I adored—a princess-cut solitary diamond sitting high atop a simple platinum band. Later that day, we separated to browse other stores alone. Finally, after a long day, we headed home and lay down. After an intimate afternoon, Patrick got up, played “I only have eyes for you,” on his computer, and retrieved a box from under a pile of recently strewn clothes. He slipped back into bed and told me he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I opened the box to find that same ring I adoringly tried on earlier in the day. I was so overwhelmed that I repeatedly uttered childishly, “Are you serious?!” And of course said yes. Lots of phone calls and champagne toasts followed. It was truly a wonderful day that I will always cherish—and perhaps will always slightly blush about even into my old age.
