A little more loot on lulu if you don’t know me yet – I am about to get engaged. And it’s killing me! For reasons that have varied significantly over the last two years.
At first it was, oh my God, I’m not ready for this—don’t propose, don’t propose. Now it’s—oh my God, how much longer do I have to wait. Propose, propose, propose!
My amazing boyfriend dealt with some pretty dramatic mood swings when it came to this topic of conversation. First we planned our whole lives together a few months into dating, then I told him he can’t talk about it anymore. Then I said I was ready, but told him if he was going to do it, it couldn’t be before my cousin’s engagement party cause I didn’t want to show up to her day, with a big rock on my finger. (She is the first of the ladies in my fam to get engaged and deserved the spotlight!). Now I’m chomping at the bit!
I may sound a bit demanding, or bi-polar, but this was my way of feeling my way through a very big step that came sooner in life than I had expected. So I felt my way through it, with the amazing support and patience of my boyfriend who was pretty sure about it all long before I was.
Fast forward two years, to six months, to one month, to a few weeks and I’m going nutty! My cousin’s engagement party is a month behind us, we’ve talked about timing for our wedding, the where, when, who—and I am dying with anticipation of when he is going to propose and make an honest woman out of me!
And I imagine this is his entire plan! He wants me to be surprised, and waiting. And I’m smiling ear to ear that I am feeling eager rather than rushed—so who cares when it happens, his set up has worked, but I swear I’m going crazy. Listen to this one. I feel like I’m having out of body experiences—this is so not me.
Last weekend we went for a drive in the country, before which he brought along an emergency drivers kit (think flares and first aid) that he owned and thought should be in the car “for at least a day or two.” I’m thinking, “Wow, that would have been really clever if he snuck champagne, cups and the ring in that bag. I was giving him all sorts of props for making the whole drive seem so spontaneous and unplanned. We drove for miles, eventually stopping in Point Arena to climb to the top of a beautiful lighthouse that reminded me of home in New England. My boyfriend noticed other people were climbing up a few minutes behind us and ushered me to the top so we would have the top of the lighthouse to ourselves, he said. We got up there, and it was gorgeous. 360-degree views of ocean and California coast. We stood in awe, he took pictures of me, made me strike poses, and then … we climbed down, climbed into the car, and drove home! A few moments later we’re driving home from what turned out to ACTUALLY be a spontaneous drive up the coast!
Now I’m thinking it won’t be for another month cause I’m traveling most weekends in September and October.
I find myself feeling like I did at the end of driving cross country for the first time. The whole driving for days and days wasn’t bad at all; it was the last four hours of the drive that were absolute torture. Right now I feel like I’m four hours from home after a cross country drive and wanting to ask Scout over and over, ARE WE THERE YET?!
Off to go search his drawers. Just kidding, Scout.
