I got engaged three times to the same man. The first time, my husband took me on a long walk in mid-January to our favorite park and the tree we would always climb in the summer. He made me climb up to our branch in my fat goose-down coat and we just sat up there for a while, our legs dangling precariously. My husband and I arent very romantic people which became very obvious as he turned and said, "So we’ve been dating for aa long time." "Right", I said. I could tell he was shaking and I probably should have helped him out but it was too enjoyable to watch. He fumbled for a while until finally he looked at me and said, "You say it." "Say what", I asked. "I cant say it, you say it". We both started laughing and finally I caved and asked him if he wanted to marry me. Well, oddly enough, he did. I gave up on the knee thing (dangerous in trees) but I asked him where my diamond was. He admitted he wanted a "yes" before he got the ring but he promised we’d get one soon.
Three weeks later he was true to his word. He took me out to the restaurant where we had our first date. And then we did homework. It was mid-terms week. I’ll admit the restaurant had me thinking, but the homework threw me off. He asked if I wanted to go for a walk afterwards. I thought he meant outside so I was confused when he led me to the library. He said it was too cold in February in Utah so we walked all five stories of our schools huge library. On the first floor (the one where he first asked me out on our first real date to play tennis). Ahh, I thought, here it comes. There werent many people around so I figured, go time.
He asked if I wanted to play hide-and-seek and I played along. He was it first. I’ll admit I felt super stupid hiding behind book shelves. There’s nowhere to hide in a library. He found me in about 10 seconds (I had ducked beside a printer) and then I was it. It took me about three minutes to find him. I turned one corner of the shelves and he was right there, down on one knee with a little black velvet box. He asked, I said sure and he slipped the ring on my finger.
"It’s the wrong ring", I said. "What?" He stood up quickly. I held it up with a sheepish grin. It wasn’t the ring we had picked out the week before. The prongs were different and the diamond was set the wrong way. I think I laughed harder than he did.
He took it back and had it exchanged over the summer while I was out of the country for a few months. When I came back, it was time to try, try again. He took me up to his apartment one day, grabbed the box and practically dragged me down the street towards our tree again. He stopped half-way, clearly thinking again. Without dropping to one knee he opened the box, verified that it was the right ring, and then he practically threw it on my finger with a hasty, "We’re getting married. Say yes." I did and he kissed me. Three weeks later we were married in Chicago and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I mean, how many people get proposed to three times and get to say yes to all of them?
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