Text the exes: we're engaged.

I am sure that everyone says this: I don't like the word "blog." I don't blog. I have never blogged. I don't even like responding to group e-mails. In fact, seldom do I e-mail more than one person at a time. Too much pressure. Too many eyes. E-mail is so much more personal to me. Meant for one person. Unless, you know, its an evite. That said, I am just as surprised as you that I am here...writing to you. My goal, really, is to chronicle my engagement and then ultimately gift it to my future wife, so she can tuck it into the back of the scrapbook that my mother has probably already started to put together. Yes, to answer your whispers, I am whipped.

And the truth is I am embarrassed by how "into" this wedding I am. I never expected to have any real responsibility. Sure - I would get to go to the tasting, help pick the DJ/Band, plan the honeymoon - you know, things I can't screw up - but through a crazy series of events and conflicts, I am smack in the middle of the planning - a position that I never thought I would be in, and a position that scares the hell out of me.

Backstory - don't fall in love with us...we're taken.

I think H and I were destined to meet. We went to the same college. We had some of the same friends. We knew similar people in our work lives. But for whatever reasons, I only met H two years ago...at a halloween party. Its fun when we tell people that. Invariably, they ask what did we dress up as. good question. H celebrated the holiday as most single, attention seeking ladies do - dressed as something dirty and agressively power chugging rasberry vodka and sodas (I wore my gorilla outfit (yes, "my" as in mine, showing possession)). Almost from the start (well, at least 10 minutes after her and her friend screamed Bette Midler at me), I was in. I wasn't particularly charming that night. Rude, maybe, but definitely not charming. The facts get blurred, but for whatever reason, I remember making several remarks about the Dove House Women's Shelter. Apparently, H was a sucker for mysoginistic pick-up lines (Mystery might call it negging) and for whatever reasons, H broke her own rules and gave me her number - I called. She screened. My message was gold. She called back. I screened. Repeat. 5 days later, we finally touched base and our first date was soon thereafter. It sounds cheesy when I say it, but from that first date (Starfish Sushi - RIP),(Rumor has it that the text to her best friend once I put her in the cab read three simple words: "Best.Date.Ever.") we have been inseperable. Ultimately, I think we just met each other at the perfect time - when both of us were good enough with ourselves that we could commit to each other. Seriously. We moved in together the following May...thats 7 months for those who count things like that.

The Ring is Burning a Hole in my (cardigan) pocket

I knew pretty early on that I was going to marry this woman. It was such a no-brainer for me. So, I guess that created a certain anti-climaticism (is that a word?) about our impending engagement. We designed a ring to her specifications. I bought it. I stressed. I called her mother for her blessing (maybe more stressful than the actual engagement) and then picked the absolute worst day for H to propose to her - H was swamped with work that day - and had a late meeting, which started at 5:00 PM that Friday. I knew she would be so pissed off by the time she got home, that she would never expect this. I left work early that day, cleaned the house, maybe made a proposal mix CD and waited. And waited. It was 8:15 PM and I was till waiting. I started to stress. I had previously arranged to get some of our family and close friends together at our favorite after-work bar (Paramount Room) to surprise her. Her parents even made the drive in from Indianapolis. They had been at the Paramount since 8:00 PM. They were probably 3-9 drinks in at this point.

H texted me that she was leaving soon. So, I lit candles. I put on a tie and sweater. I put in my super sweet proposal mix CD and sat by the back window, so I'd know the moment she was home. I don't know what I expected here: I think I half-anticipated that she would know I was about to propose when she came in, heard the sweet proposal mix and saw me dressed up in a candle lit room. I may have given her too much credit - H immediately thought that there was an accident and that I was preparing to tell her some bad news. She kept saying "what's going on" and "tell me! did something bad happen!?!" It wasn't until she saw me fumbling around my cardigan pocket, that she knew and settled down a little. Whatever I had planned to say was pretty much resorted to some stream of consciousness "i love you's" and "I want you to marry me's"

She said yes. obviously. We drank some WS champagne and listened to Ray LaMontagne. And then I had to find a way to rush her out the door. I suggested that we go out and celebrate at our favorite bar. I convinced H that my law school friends were meeting us out - you should have seen H's face when we got there - it was insane. If we were popular, or whatever, this would have been our paparazzi well...You can see her eyes follow around - Almost in a perfect circle were her closest friends, my Mom and brother, and then, last, her mother - she screamed. It may have been the best part of the night for her.

We were toasted and drank and drank...until we were the last ones there. We sat there for a moment taking the gravity of our commitment all in. Then we went for late night hot dogs...