Euros Ate My Dollars

I’ve always been kind of wary when it comes to this whole “getting married” thing. For one, how in the world are you supposed to make a decision regarding who you want to spend the rest of your life at this clueless age? I’m supposed to determine who I want to spend the next sixty years with, when I haven’t even been alive for half of that? Pretty much at any given age in my life I’ve always considered myself the Smartest Person Ever. A couple of years later, however, I inevitably realize just how stupid I was, and how much I’ve changed since then. Oh, ps: now, of course, I am the Smartest Person Ever. And clearly capable of making decisions regarding lifelong commitments.

Ha! Would a person who is capable of making such decisions open up her cabinet this afternoon to find a carton of orange juice? And then turn around to find a half-full glass of orange juice in her fridge? And last week, at work, would she unzip her laptop case to find a sock, but no laptop, and have no idea how that happened? Who, later, after a day-full of wedgie-picking, realize she had her underwear on backwards?

Clearly, this is not a person you should trust to make Very Important Decisions.

And even if we disregard my utter inability to make good decisions, about 0.000000001% of people who get married are 1. still married and 2. happy. A sad fact, but a true one.

So I dismissed my sister the morning of Dec. 20th when she voiced(/shrieked) her convictions that tonight is THE NIGHT. I was looking forward to our date, though. Thanks to the trip and subsequent job hunt, we hadn’t had a proper date night in…well, in a dismally long time.

I took advantage of the opportunity to get all gussied-up, even though the effort is often not worth it. Girls, listen: men do not notice. Trust me. Unless your boobs are in their face they will not pay a lick of attention to what you’re wearing. So stop obsessing in front of a mirror about whether you should go with the boots or the strappy heels. Over the last five years, Ben’s tried to shed light on the oblivious nature of men. He’s usually right.

La Grotta was Ben’s idea, and a good one it was, because the food is melt-in-your-mouth fantastic. I spent dinner 1. remarking on the amazing food, 2. stealing as much food as possible from Ben’s plate, and 3. reveling in our conversation—conversations that, despite having had such conversations every day since we were 14, are still the most interesting discussions I have.

On to the gardens: my favorite parts were the oversized light sculptures (a giant web full of giant spiders, all made of lights, spanned the length of a pond!) and the food stand serving warm mochas. ‘Cause for some reason I decided it’d be a good idea to add coffee on top of my garlic-fish breath.

And then, as we were about to leave, Ben pulled me down one more path. I can’t say exactly what I was thinking then, but it went something like this:

Why doesn’t he want to leave? We’ve seen the entire garden. This is weird. Wait, why are we stopping here? Oh, sweet words and kisses, okay, I love this. More sweet words and kisses! I love this! Holysh*t,isheproposing?ISHEPROPOSING? Wait… I’m supposed to say something?

So “flustered” is a good way to describe my reaction. I mean, what do you say when one of these life-changing moments comes along? I can tell you that you aren’t supposed to stammer “I—I do!” That response (hopefully) comes later.

In the end, despite all my fears about the m-word, the decision was probably the easiest decision I’ve ever made.

Because as we walked through that tunnel of twinkle lights and he stopped and pulled me towards him, he took my face in his hands and kissed me in that way he has that’s both gentle and firm. The way he’s kissed me every day for the past five years and still every time makes me feel weak and tingly. Because I knew exactly what he would order once I heard the night’s specials. Because he can still make me laugh until I cry. Because he’s my home. Because whenever we’re together, the rest of the world vanishes. Which is why, even though the proposal happened in the middle of a public garden on a weekend, I couldn’t answer people when they asked if anyone else was around: I honestly have no idea.

Plus, he has a really cute butt.

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