:from "The Song Of Solomon"
Ok, I'm not religious, but I AM an English major, and that line has always captivated some part of whatever passes for my romantic soul. I hope you all appreciate that I am resisting the urge to get all messy & mushy here, so instead I'll relate (in a matter of fact sort of way) the events leading up to this blog.
Ok, maybe not. I'll probably get all mushy over the wonderful and fragile contingency that caused Steve & I to meet last fall, so I'll cut right to the chase: the proposal. Steve & I have been dating since October 21, 2006. Yes, I know that's not very long, but we were all love-at-first-sight-y, so this was pretty inevitable since day -- three? four? We've been living together in the charming little town of Gibsons, British Columbia, since February 1, 2006. Also not very long. I know.
Steve has been nothing but candid with me that he did see me as his potential life partner, so you'd think all that "does he like me That Way" anxiety would be averted... and it kind of was. To be immediately replaced with the "so we're in love and it's obviously forever so why the heck doesn't he ask me" variety of anxiety. What can I say? I'm an Aries. I'm impatient.
We had gone as far as deciding that getting married next year would be best in order to leave lots of time to have a family... then that May would be a good month to get married in... to deciding the Victoria Day long weekend would be the best day to have the wedding on (for ease of relative travel). We even decided to hike the West Coast Trail this summer instead of next in order to use all my holidays for weddding-ing and honeymoon-ing. You can see why I was getting impatient? That hall needed to be booked already!
Several several weeks ago, Steve told me his engagement time-line was early fall. I crossed my fingers that we could still get a hall that late in the year, but stuffed my impatience into some metaphysical closet and set down to enjoy the summer.
It was funny, then, to be having a lazy Sunday morning, cuddled up and talking about the impending visit of our evil landlady (the landcow) and having Steve comment that, "if she buys us out of our lease, that would practically pay for our wedding!" I was in the middle of commenting that I was much less impatient about getting engaged than a few weeks ago, when "will you marry me?" appeared above my head. I immediately propped myself up and looked straight at him. Several choice phrases came to mind, but I settled on "is this a for-real proposal?" After thanking me for utterly ruining the mood, he asked me again.
"Of course."
Here we are in early days.
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