On August 30, 2010, my boyfriend A helped me move into my college dorm. We were beginning our last few, difficult months as a long-distance couple.
On August 30, 2011, A became my fiance, proposing to me at a waterfall park in Minneapolis, beginning a new phase of our life together.
The day may have been dreary, but I will remember his perfectly choreographed moment for the rest of my life.
The only hitch in the plan was my uncontrollable sobbing, which prevented me from hearing his, “will you marry me?”
I have received a few tidbits of love advice through my youth. The dripping-with-Catholicism, “he won’t bother buying the cow if he can get the milk for free,” to the quite obvious “if he’s wearing pants made for females you’ve got more trouble than you think.” But probably the best comes from my mother: “have someone you can talk to across the breakfast table with for the rest of your life.”
I am so proud to have him as my husband-to-be and every morning conversationalist–even if they start at 4 a.m. After so many lemons, frogs and other varieties of underwhelming males, I have discovered my great love in a man who has been beside me for many years.
I love you, peach. The ring is perfect, and you’re damn close.
Now, do I have to have a wedding? 🙂