This week marks seven years since Drew asked me to marry him. I’ve told the proposal story a bunch of times already, but for those who can’t get enough (or, you know, haven’t heard it before): Pre-Jackson, we always had a Friday evening tradition of meeting up after work and getting shit-faced at Happy Hour somewhere and then eating a drunken dinner around 8 and then falling dead-asleep at like 9:30 with our contacts still in. Romance! Anyway, it was a Friday evening seven years ago when Drew asked if I wanted to meet him for a walk in Central Park before getting shit-faced, and I was like, “Sure, why not?” At the time, we lived and worked in Manhattan, about a ten-minute walk from the park, so it was easy enough to meet there after work.
I had, a week earlier, given him my great-grandmother’s engagement ring, procured from my mother over the holidays, with instructions to have it sized and give it back to me “when he was ready.” Valentine’s Day was coming up, as was our vacation to Costa Rica — oh, to have the freedom to travel! — a few weeks later, but I didn’t think Drew was the kind of guy to propose on either of those occasions, so, when he asked me to meet him for a walk in the park, for a minute I did think, “Oh, this is it!” I remember taking extra care with my makeup and hair, and I took a quick selfie before heading out the door, I guess just to document the occasion in case it turned into An Occasion. But it was so cold outside that, by the time I got to the park, all I was thinking about was getting warm and how I couldn’t feel my fingers and I’d totally forgotten the possibility of a proposal.
So, it was a surprise after all when we were walking along a bridge in the park and Drew pointed to something on the ground below and I turned to look and saw in big chalk letters: “Wendy, Will you marry me? – Drew”. I said yes, he put my great-grandmother’s ring on my finger, we kissed, and then we went and got shit-faced. But on fancy champagne instead of our usual tequila because we are romantic like that. The rest, as they say, is history.
What about you? What’s your proposal story (if you have one)? Would you change anything about it?