I got engaged. Happy happy, joy joy for me!
Unfortunately, those are the best words I can give right now because it’s kinda difficult to put the magnitude of such a thing into words. Just know that there is no phrase harder to get out than “will you marry me?” Not just because of the awkwardness caused from being on one knee–a position few are ever on, unless you sing in a minstrel show–but because there’s absolutely no way you can say that and sound as cool and loving as you would prefer. You want to be able to say that with every bit of bass you have, and every bit of reassured confidence in the deepest recesses of your being. You wish you could channel those love songs you grew up with, the ones that used to sound good but only recently began to make perfect sense, for they no longer sound like idealistic hyperbole but, instead, like your own life.
But when the words come from your mouth, they sound as though you’ve gone back to a pre-pubescent time.
You fully take in the fact that someone is willing to put up with you and every flaw, fault and wart you’ve got from here until the end. You realize that you’re someone you think is absolutely magnificent to reciprocate that sentiment, to say she finds herself just as fortunate to have you as you know you are to have you. You’re asking for the ultimate reassurance, which flies in the face of the confidence you’re attempting to summon. You’re totally letting your guard down in the name of being happier than you’ve ever been, even though you’re already as happy as you imagined possible. With all that in the air, I’m surprised my voice didn’t crack.
But she said yes. Actually, she said “of course.” The smile on her face was priceless, something I’ll remember and hold on to for a long time.
That memory will come in extra handy when I’ve managed to do something to irk her (like about a half hour ago). It’s got a long-lasting “everything’s gonna be straight” effect. At least for a good while.
Thanks to Viva, AD and Williethepimp for their assistance on that. Couldn’t have gone any better had I scripted it. Or, should I say, had I scripted it any more than I did. I don’t think I’ve ever been more anal-retentive about every detail of a plan being on point than I was that day. I’m one of those selective perfectionists. If something isn’t too crucial, it can go how it goes. If it’s big to me, it’s gotta go exactly how I want it to. And this did.
And anyone that knows her and sees the effect she has on me would tell you, I’m winning. Actually shed a few putting that into words.
Yes, I’m way too happy. I originally intended for this to just be one paragraph, and a short one at that. Wanted to discuss something I saw at the Maze/Mint Condition concert we went to last night, but that’s for another post.
Back in a few.
(Oh, a totally random coincidence–only I would, without planning, propose on Prince’s birthday.)