At some point when I was still very young, I got it in my head that I wanted to be married on May 15, the Ides of May. I apparently thought it was a lucky Irish day, although a quick google search tells me it is no such thing. But I fancied the way it sounded, the Ides of May, and looked far ahead on a perpetual calendar for a time when I was grownup enough to marry and May 15 fell on a Saturday. I decided May 15, 1999, was when I would be wed. I was confident that all minor details, including a groom, would fall into place in plenty of time.
I was 22 when 1999 rolled around, and, it turned out, way too young to get married. May 15 fell on a Saturday again in 2004, only a couple of months after Austin and I started dating, and I don't think I even noticed. Since college I've helped with and coordinated at least a dozen weddings for friends and family, and even one paying customer. Surely one of the happiest times of my life was two summers ago, when both my sisters were married in the same gorgeous, crazy weekend and I had a major hand in overseeing both events. I still collect MSW magazine and I still file away things that I love as being possible features for future wedding events. But realistically, I toned down my own expectations. I'm 31. I don't expect as much romance and passion out of everyday life as I might have when I was fifteen. Of course I had once invented a million fascinating ways in which my betrothed would surprise me with a proposal, but these fantasies, as with many of the other digressions of youth, have faded with maturity.
Five years ago on Friday was Austin's and my first kiss. January 30. It's the day we always celebrate as our anniversary. At lunch on Thursday, a coworker teased me, "Five year anniversary... sounds like proposal time to me..." I efficiently laid out all the reasons why I did not think this was likely. For one thing, Austin and I share finances now, so I would certainly know if he'd bought a ring. For another, he's not much into surprises. Additionally, both of my sisters were engaged on their five year anniversaries, and I didn't think Austin even knew that, but if he did, that was way too much pressure. No, I said, while I do think it's something that will come up soon, I think when it does we'll just talk about it, and maybe go ring shopping. I'm not expecting a grand gesture.
And I wasn't even lying to myself, I swear. These were all reasonable, logical truths, and Austin is a reasonable, logical man. It's certainly one of the things I love most about him. We had planned a sushi date for Friday night at Samurai, and I was just inordinately excited about dynamite and crispy rolls. In the afternoon, Casey asked if we'd want to go out for a drink with them after dinner, and I thought that sounded like a good plan. I picked Austin up after work and we headed to Elliston Place. When we got out of the car I pulled out his anniversary gift (the newest Shepard Fairey book), and he made an embarrassed face like he'd forgotten mine. I didn't think of it again.
I just stared at the ring for a full moment. Wait, what? A diamond? This is happening right now? I looked back at Austin and squealed, "REALLY?!" and burst into tears. I was laughing and crying and kissing him and said, "YES!" The waitress brought our check, looked at me like I was crazy and hustled off. I just kept crying and holding Austin's face. I had this overwhelming feeling like I'd missed something, or that I didn't understand what was happening. The sushi chefs, and then our baffled waitress, congratulated us. Once I calmed down (a bit), Austin explained that he'd told Trent on Thursday, and Trent was scheduled to tell Casey right before we went to dinner, so by then they were both going to be dying to hear from us. I texted Casey and told her we were going to come by, was that ok, and she wrote back, "Yes!"
But really, I just kept looking at Austin, and thinking, I'm going to marry this man. It's not like any of this (other than the proposal) is a surprise. We bought a home together, we share lives and family, I've never been so sure of anything. Literally. I would marry him tomorrow at the Wildhorse Saloon if that was the requirement to ensure that I get this man, only this one, for the rest of my life.
Already, people started asking if we'd set a date. When I'd begun to think about it, as early as when we bought the house, I'd thought fall of 2010 would be reasonable. That would give us plenty of time to plan and save, and it would be far enough after my sisters' weddings to not be too much of a financial burden, too soon, for my family who traveled here in 2007. Plus we've got an important wedding coming up this summer, which will require all of my creative resources, plus some financial ones as well, so I figured we could cruise on "engaged" until June, and then start making some decisions. But Saturday morning, we talked a bit about when we'd want to have a wedding, and Austin said he didn't want to wait until the fall. He suggested May of next year. I thought, "May? Hmm." And then I said, "I wonder which day of the week the 15th is on next year." And believe it or not, it's a Saturday.
So guess what? We're engaged. And we appear to have set a date.