The Proposal

Alternate title: Spoiler alert! I say yes

Second alternate title: Didn't I tell you two years ago I was going to marry this guy?

Matt declared his eternal love for me and asked me to marry him on Christmas morning. I'm sure you can guess that I squealed a little bit. Or maybe a lot.

You want the story? Of course you do because it's adorable!

Rewind a few days to before the start of the holiday craziness, Matt texts me to say that one of my gifts hasn't arrived yet, and is in fact delayed until Christmas Eve day. No problem, I say. It's not his fault. He says that he was really looking forward to giving this gift to me at my mom's, where we were headed later that evening, and he's incredibly pissed that it's not here. Getting pissed at seemingly inconcequential things is decidedly un-Matt. I suspected something was up.

Christmas Eve day, as we're returning to New York after a visit in Pennsylvania (world travelers, we are), I casually ask why we're not stopping at his coworker's house (who agreed to sign for the package -- and wanted to verify earlier in the day that she was not, in fact, becoming a drug mule) first, so we could just park the car at our apartment after for the evening. He gave me an excuse about wanting to sit down at home for a few minutes and he'd get it later. Mentally I called BS.

He returns to our apartment later carrying a typically UPS box horizontally. He remarks that I may NOT touch the box because it has to be held only THIS way and especially carefully. At this point, I'm wondering if I was off-base and it's actually food of some kind. Not that I don't love food. He places the box on the far end of our couch and intends to go about our evening.

Obviously the first time he leaves the room, I take the opportunity to casually glance over to the box to see where it was shipped from. NO SUCH LUCK! Clearly my future husband knows me well.

On Christmas morning there's the box, wrapped in festive paper, STARING AT ME. Naturally, I want to rip it open first, but I do not. I wait. I am an incredibly patient person when I have to be. Or when I think my boyfriend may be proposing to me.

I unwrap the box last. He says that he needs to open the UPS box, as he wants to make sure everything is there. He does, and then opens the box within away from my line of sight. I'm trying to gauge his face but he's got that p-p-p-p-poker face. He reaches into the new box and pulls out....

A box of Godiva chocolates. Yum, but also, not QUITE what I was hoping Santa would bring me.

I say, thank you and smile. Because, really, what else can ya do, ya know?

Then he hands me a card. I ask if I can open it. Duh, yes, I can open it. On the inside of the envelope, I read,

"Love you very much. Will you be mine for all time?"

Then I start squealing. And then out comes the ring box.

I wait.

I wait some more.

A solid minute goes by and I am not speaking. I am not answering the question. In my defense, I didn't want to speak too soon and ruin whatever else he may be planning. I've been known to do this. I wanted to give him ample time to get full-on high school literary magazine mushy if he wanted to.

He stared back at me, quietly, and finally widens his eyes to indicate that he's actually waiting for an answer to the most important question he'll probably ever ask anyone.

And then I say yes. And I tear up. And I tell my future husband that I love him.

And that's the best Christmas present I've ever gotten.