Last Friday marked the 15th anniversary of the day I proposed to my girlfriend. I remember it well. We were making a getaway to the mountains of Vermont, and as far as she knew it was just another trip (you know, the kind you take before you have kids.) After a six-hour drive, we checked into Rabbit Hill Inn and then took a walk around the grounds, holding hands. The foliage was just beginning to turn. Not far into our stroll, I felt my heart begin to palpitate. Butterflies like a flock of flamingos took flight in my chest. I stopped and looked at her. She smiled. And although fifteen years may have passed, her eyes light up the same way today as they did at that moment. I melted. I was about to change our lives forever and she had no idea.
Deep down, I knew that she’d say yes. So I didn’t really have a fear of rejection. But I was nervous nonetheless. I reached into my front jeans pocket for the most important piece of jewelry I’ll ever purchase. It had been hard to keep this a secret so long. Especially the mysterious lunches leading up to this moment – when I’d spend them with jewelers instead of her. I then dropped to both knees. Why was I on both knees? I hadn’t given this part much thought – was it one knee or both? Oh well, rather than ruin the moment with trivial dumbassery, I looked up into her eyes and asked her to marry me. Next came the ring reveal – and her hands flew to her mouth just like in the movies. Then, with tears welling up in her eyes, she lowered her left hand down to me – and nodded.