THE STORY

"When do we get to hear The Story?"

I've been getting that question a lot. Truth be told, it's a bit disappointing for a writer to suddenly have everyone asking her about The Story, only to swiftly realize that they don't mean that novel you're working on, they mean OMG HOW DID HE ASK YOU TO MARRY HIM WAS IT SUPER ROMANTIC THIS IS BANANAS I'M ALREADY CRYING!!!???

Seriously, though, it's sweet.

When people ask about The Story, I mean. That's sweet: friends' excitement, exuberant curiosity, wanting to know how this fabulous news came to be. The Story itself, well - at first glance, it's not actually what a tale that would be universally characterized as sweet. It's certainly not epic or flowery. No one gets down on one knee and there were no flash mobs. If you want to see something like that, watch this couple instead:

ALL THAT SAID, I'll oblige all of y'all and tell The Story. Then we'll see if it's sweet (or OMG-BANANAS-worthy) or not. So here it is:

How We Got Engaged
Or, The (Lack of a) Story

Once upon a time, there were two lovely, brainy, and romantically-inept people who loved each other and were already pretty ding dang committed to each other and had started finally talking about the fact that honoring and formalizing that commitment might be nice. There was discussion about a ring, and two things were decided about said ring:

1) Spending a crazy amount of money on a ring actually is crazy - or, said in a less judge-y way, spending more than they could afford on a ring just wouldn't do for these two.
2) One couple's joy shouldn't be symbolized by anyone else's misery; in other words, no blood diamonds or shady-gems allowed.

This led to the decision to procure a certified-ethical, sustainably-produced diamond from Canada. Aboot time, eh?*

Speaking of time. It takes some time for an cruelty-free international engagement ring to arrive at one's doorstep. No matter what the tracking information says. Which means that on two separate occasions, planned romantic proposal situations were thwarted by the postal system and its tediously slow delivery of The Canadian Ring.

To make a long (and, for real, not that interesting relative to all the other crazy awesome stories we could tell you) story short, the ring dawdled and no romantic proposal happened.

Then one Monday night, after a somewhat long and stressful day, our heroes were sitting on the couch. Feeling like they needed a pick-me-up, they decided to have an upscale takeout night, and were eating some delicious gourmet pizza and drinking some good red wine. After finishing an episode of Game of Thrones (clearly, the most romantic show ever... um, not really) while snuggling with the pets, this conversation took place:

Me: This is just a really good night.
He: Hold that thought.
(He runs upstairs, and comes back down with a small box.)
Me: Hold on.
(I chug the remainder of my glass of good red wine.)
He: Let's see if this fits.
Me: Is this really happening?
(He puts a ring on my finger.)
He: Yes.
Me: Don't you have to ask me a question, or something?
He: Okay. Do you want to love me for the rest of your life?
Me: That's the plan. Do you want to love me for the rest of your life?
He: Already doing it.

I had to go to a jeweler later that week-- because, as it turns out, the ring didn't fit.

But the proposal actually did.

*I grew up near the Canadian border and would just like to go ahead and apologize to my Northern neighbors for that cheesy accent joke, even if it's pretty accurate. Also, thanks for the cruelty-free sparkler, Canada!