The night we got engaged, I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen. I did not expect anything like that until his seasonal overtime ended. Sure, I had a Pinterest board filled with engagement rings I liked, but most girls have a Pinterest board like that.
I guess I should have figured something was up because we had been watching a series of documentaries on jewelry and precious gems. The most recent had been about princess cut engagement rings. Another hint should have been when we talked about how it would feel to be recorded during a proposal. We were watching The Bachelorette, so I did not think anything of it.
To give a little bit of context, we had been dating for over a year, and I knew I wanted to marry him. Because it will come up later, I gave him a blank, leather-bound journal for our first Christmas together. In the first several pages, I had written about our first dates from my perspective.
The night started out with nothing going according to plan. Over the past few days, I had felt the tickle in my throat that heralded a spring cold. Also, it was raining. The incoming spring cold and rain in combination meant I chose to wear my coziest hooded sweatshirt instead of my meticulously selected date-night clothes. If I had known what he was planning, I would have dressed up nicer!
He picked me up at the scheduled time, and we laughed together because the rain was so loud on the roof of his car. No evening stroll along the riverfront for us! A few negotiations later, we ended up reenacting our second date with a trip to Sonic, and then to a bayou-themed winery.
The winery was beautiful in the rain. We sat at an outdoor umbrella table and watched rain fall into the lake. He seemed full of exuberant energy, but I thought it was because this was his first time out after working six consecutive days of overtime. The rain pounded on the umbrella, and we sampled some delicious wines. His bouncy energy was infectious, and it made the wines taste more intense.
Then, he pulled the leather journal I had given him for Christmas out of his pocket. He was ready for me to start writing from my perspective again and invited me to read what he had written in the months since Christmas. At first, I hesitated because I did not want to read it in front of him. After some prodding, I agreed to read it if he agreed not to watch me. Except for some intermittent poking, he behaved. What he had written made my insides feel like melted butter.
When I got to what I thought was the last page of his writing, I noticed there was some writing on the next page. I flipped the page and found one sentence: “Will you marry me?” in his neat, masculine handwriting. My heart started beating really fast. Because I did not think I was supposed to have seen it, I flipped the page back. I was about to tell him how much I liked what I had read when the wind changed.
Instead of falling vertically, the rain started falling diagonally and began pelting us. We retreated to the other side of the table to the one spot where the rain could not reach. He leaned across the table, rescued the journal, and returned it to his pocket. We held onto each other as we tried to stay dry. After not enough time, the rain slackened, and I started to return to my seat. He snagged my hand, stopping me.
Then, he got down and one knee and held out a ring. He asked if I would marry him. I replied that I would love to be his wife. We kissed, and he put the ring on my right hand. Later, when we were getting ready to tell our parents, I asked if it was a cultural tradition in his family to wear an engagement ring on the right hand. He looked at me with a surprised look on his face. In all the excitement, he had not realized which hand he put the ring on!