The Proposal
My boyfriend, Cory, and I slept in late last Saturday, as we often do. With no real plans for the day, we ate a leisurely breakfast and contemplated some activities (check out a museum? go for a hike?). He suggested that instead we eschew a specific destination and just go for a drive.
It sounded good to me — I love road trips. They're the perfect opportunity to break out some tunes, get snacks for the car and watch the world race by. It was a clear, sunny day with a dry forecast, and Washington was looking particularly beautiful, so the timing felt good.
We hit the road and stopped for hot cocoa after an hour. I put on my "Songs to Sing To" playlist, and we wailed away at cheesy ballads as the sun inched down the sky. I tried to get Cory to stop at a random casino, and he said maybe we'd try on the way back. Little did I know, he was in a hurry.
Once we hit our second hour on the road, Cory steered us off the highway down a long country road directly into the path of the setting sun. The sky lit up in amber and rose with the forest ahead creating a jagged silhouette on the horizon. We drove into the woods on a two-lane road, and after a few miles, he pulled over. We'd arrived at Deception Pass, an iconic cantilever bridge over a large strait connecting two islands in northern Washington.
Cory took my hand, and we walked out onto the bridge and stared at the sky. Of course, I couldn't stop taking pictures.
After fifteen minutes or so, he asked if I wanted to take a different route back to the car. I wasn't sure what other route there was, but I said sure. He added, "We can go back engaged."
I turned to face him, shocked. There he was, my boyfriend of nine years, down on one knee holding a little back box with a delicate ring inside. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" His hands were trembling.
"Is it happening? Is it happening? Oh my god! Of course I will!" I squealed like a teenage girl, jumping up and down. He slid the ring on my finger, stood up, and we hugged for a long time.
The drive back home was full of phone calls, excited glances and more teenage-girl squealing (from me — Cory's not much of a squealer). I couldn't stop staring at my ring.
Time for a confession: I helped design this ring a couple months ago. It was hard enough for me to find a wedding ring I didn't hate, so I knew it'd be impossible for Cory to find one. I'm not a fan of big, ornate rings with tons of stones and engraved metalwork. It's just not my kind of classic. I wanted something small, simple and sleek in a palette that reflects my day-to-day style.
After endless searching online, I finally found a style that fit my aesthetic — clean lines, flat profile, interesting shape — but it was yellow gold with a white diamond. Not my colors at all. I asked the designer if she could make the same ring in white gold with a black diamond, and after inquiring with some dealers, she found the perfect black diamond for my long, narrow fingers — not too large, not too small. Two weeks later, it arrived in the mail addressed to Cory.
While it would've been fun for the ring to be a surprise like the proposal itself, it's way too important to me that I love the piece of jewelry that's going to be on my left hand every day for years to come. I honestly don't know how some girls just roll with whatever they're given. Cory has great taste, but it scares me to think of the ring he might've bought on his own.
So, that's our story. Nothing crazy or elaborate, which pretty much reflects us as people. Oh, and don't worry — this blog isn't about to turn all bridal. I'll probably put up a post about whatever dress I buy (spoiler: it won't be a white wedding dress) and show you pictures from the wedding, but that's about it. I'm just not the obsessive-fantasy-wedding type ... which might be partially why he wants to marry me.
