It was fall of 2002 (two years after I met BP). The previous spring, he had landed his dream job—in Toronto. I had quit my job and left all my friends to move with him to a city I hated (at the time--I love Toronto now). We had lived together for about 6 months and things were going well; we’d discussed making it official. I was thirty and the clock was starting to tick; worse, I was feeling slightly insecure in the relationship.
Thanksgiving weekend, we went to Kingston to see his family. Thanksgiving is his favourite holiday and his parents’ spot is one of his favourite places. I was certain he would propose.
I was on tenterhooks all weekend, anxious for the big moment. I rehearsed my acceptance in my mind. It was a beautiful sunny day; finally, he asked me to go for a walk. Hooray!
The rest of the weekend was uneventful; we returned to Toronto; I was pissed.
I brooded for a month.
We returned to Kingston a month or so later, for American Thanksgiving (my sister-in-law lives in Boston so we celebrate both holidays). I was still bitter.
Saturday was a cold, rainy, rotten day. I was reading my book and Papa was pacing around.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked.
“Look how shitty it is outside. I’m trying to read my book.” Leave me alone.
Ten minutes later…
“I’d really like to go for a walk. Sure you won’t come?”
Sigh. The sooner I go, the sooner I can return and read my book in peace.
We set off for our stroll. A few minutes later, my built-up frustration erupted. I asked him if was ever planning to propose; I told him he better not be planning to do it at Christmas-time (I hate Christmas and had never wanted a holiday proposal). He didn’t get many words in edgewise.
Finally we arrived at the scenic park we usually visit to sit and chat. By then the wind was really howling and the rain had picked up. We walked down to the magnificent large rocks that jut into Lake Ontario.
I still didn’t have a clue.
He pulled out a diamond ring and asked me to marry him.
My rehearsed speech flew out of my head and I just said, with delight and relief, “yes.”
We returned to the house and his mom just happened to have a chilled bottle of champagne. We celebrated, joyfully.
It turns out my instincts were correct—he’d planned to propose the first weekend but the ring wasn’t ready in time. I bet he had no idea it would cost him that much grief.
All’s well that ends well.
Coming next…the wedding!