Day Nineteen - Valentine's

I could type until my fingers fall off about other, lesser valentine's. But there is one in particular that I don't think I could pass up. It was the day I got proposed to.

Back then the city was bustling with life. I was working, going to college and playing bass in the band. I was also, dating said band's drummer. That is probably one of the greatest clichés in life, probably. Yet I was a 22 year old almost-graduate and he was beautiful. We went to college together, and most importantly, we spent most of our waking our in each other's company. One day in 2001, when he asked me "out" (we stayed inside the garage where we practiced and ordered Chinese food), it seemed only natural. We were already joined at the hip. We might as well decided to be romantically joined at the hip, I guess.

Valentine's day 2003 was an unusual day for me. It was a Friday, I remember that. The band was playing for a crowd of indie rock lovey-doveys at a upscale bar. After a couple of years of dating Billy, I had come to expect very little from Hallmark holidays. He claimed he was idealistic. I just thought he was cheap, but respected that. And this was just yet another gig. A couple of hours playing "The Strokes" or songs that sounded exactly like them.

It all happened quickly during one of our breaks. We were at the bar, being treated to glasses of pink beer (which tasted just about as awful as they sound). The other guys girlfriends wrapped around them. Literally in some cases. Billy and I were just sitting next to each other. I remember I was thinking about how my D string was sounding flat. A preppy mexican pop song was playing on the P.A. He turned around and asked me if he had left his Belle and Sebastian CD at my place. "Maybe," I answered. "You have a lot of stuff there."

"Exactly," he replied. "We might as well be married now".

I turned to look at him, with that expression that most girls wear when they know, just know, that something important is going to happen. "Yeah. I guess so."

To his credit he did produce a little felt box out of his stylish jacket pocket. I already knew what was there, just as much as I already knew what my answer was going to be.

"I don't think I want to get on my knees on this floor," He said, sheepishly. "Would you marry me anyway?"

I said yes. I jumped into his arms and I understood why the first song of the next set was "Baby, I love your ways."

Last night, none of that happened. I talked for hours with Ryan. We laughed. We built private jokes and little traditions. I stroked my laptop screen when I suddenly felt he was so close I could brush the hair away from his eyes. We told each other we loved one another more times than we could count.

Then it was time to say goodnight.

And I looked into his eyes. He has the most beautiful gray-blue eyes. I literally get lost when I look into them. And, God, did I realize I loved him. Totally, totally, totally, love him. Some kind of wonderful feeling, a strange mix of relief, excitement, tenderness, eagerness and, of course, love, washed over me. Reigned over me.

And I held my tongue when I was about to say, "Marry me."

Right choice. As was not marrying my first fiance. If I had felt any measure of what I felt for Ryan last night, I would have gone through with that wedding, in spite of everything.

And all I want is for that day to come when I get to answer yes, after Ryan pops that question.