We saw each other every weekend and the weekends just started to fly by, one by one by one, with no proposal. I would start out the weekend in a really good place and then by Sunday night and the final car goodbye and the BYE, I ALREADY SAID BYE, I would Jekyll and Hyde into this raging, crazy b. And by that I mean crying and whining and but I thought you were going to propose to me?? whine whine cry.
It (I) was the worst.
One weekend in particular he was really cluelessly hamming things up with I really want to take you here, I've got big plans tonight, I can't tell you about it but you'll love it, etc and I WAS SURE this weekend was it. But, as it was and is and ever shall be (in my mind at the time), that weekend ended the same as all the rest. Ignition off, love you, goodnight, BYE BYE.
I was dying a little bit on the inside.
You can go right ahead and hate me now because I recognize how completely dumb this was. But it was really coming from the best of places! I just was ready to start. And waiting/patience/meekness are not my strong suits. You can pray for me.
But apart from my psychotic episodes post-weekends, I could get right back into happy-go-lucky me mode at the start of the week. I knew he would propose on a weekend, because that was really the only time we had. So, once that weekend had checked out to be a strictly non-proposal weekend, I just sort of moved on.
It was a Monday and on Monday's he came over to my family's house for dinner. And I should have known. My mom was in a dress and a full face of makeup. She made a cake.
We had dinner and went up to my room afterwards. And I promise you, there was no engagement on my mind. So when I walked into my bedroom and Kirby shut the door behind me and started to weep, I thought something was terribly, terribly wrong. And when he continued to weep and get down on his knees, I assumed that he was collapsing to the ground in agony. So, naturally, I followed him to the ground, bracing this shoulders with my hands as we got on our knees together. (*The retelling of this makes me laugh so hard it's a eeennsy bit tricky to even type it out). I searched his face for clues and he just cried.
Between sobs he said I...love...you...so...much.
I remember thinking, OK- he loves me, so he isn't ending this, and he has been here all night so I would have known if someone had died. But what could it be?? (Honestly, death was the only think I could think of to justify what was happening)
And then there was a ring.
And there we were, both on our knees, in my little bedroom, my eyes jetting from ring to Kirby, ring to Kirby, ring to Kirby, trying to piece together what had actually just happened. And then I realized the tears were happy, overwhelmed tears. And that nothing was wrong. And that I was on my knees, too.
And so I said yes. (And we laughed, obvi)
*I feel like I owe Kirby a crying disclaimer. He is definitely a sensitive guy but not in the he gets his feelings hurt way. He is never fussy (like me), and I cry way more than him, but he does have some sure-fire cries over a handful of things and they are (mostly)...
- getting married
- babies being born
- Friday Night Lights
- The One Shining Moment montage at the end of the NCAA Tournament
- Gus Johnson (THE SLIPPER STILL FITS!)
- That Macklemore song about The Mariners and Dave Niehaus
So, basically, it's all justified.
If you haven't figure it out by now, he is the best.