OMG WTF I’M ENGAGED.
Sometimes I forget. I’ll run in to someone I haven’t seen for a while and they’ll congratulate me, and for a split second I have no idea what they’re talking about, and then my eyes will dart to the ring on my previously bare left hand and I’ll remember why I’ve been floating on a cloud of happiness for the past week. Or, I’ll run my fingers through my hair and the ring will snag and rip a few split ends off. Or, I’ll be talking to my roommate and she’ll ask, “Where’s your ring?” and I’ll remember that I took it off to shower and forgot to put it back on. Basically, I am the worst fiancée ever. But Scott is fully aware of how much I suck and remarkably, he loves me anyway.
Our families and close friends are ecstatic, and everyone who has seen us together isn’t surprised that we’re engaged, but everyone on the fringes of my life is (understandably) shocked. Enough people have written me messages ranging from a gentle “Hey, who’s the lucky guy?” all the way to “WHAT??!!! You’re engaged?!” that I feel that this life event is a good excuse to get back in to blogging. And, just like last time, only my mom will read it. Hopefully less angry Albanians.
I came home from the Peace Corps in October. I was sick, broken, and in no mood to try my luck at dating. Everything I ate made me vomit, the littlest things made me cry, and I had just gotten out of a six-month relationship. I was not exactly a desirable specimen. When I finally had the energy to go back to church the first weekend of November, I met a pretty cool Oregon law grad who had just started working for a Vegas firm in August. I didn’t know I was going to marry Scott immediately; that feeling came about 72 hours later when we went on our first date. As it turns out, the feeling was mutual.
The rest, as they say, is history. Everyone always used to tell me, “When you know, you know.” It’s cliché, but things are cliché precisely because they’re true. I knew even back in November. So did Scott. So did a lot of people in our inner circles, apparently. We all bit our tongues for that 4.75 months until it became socially acceptable to start joking about marriage, and then the jokes turned in to hours-long talks and once we started thinking about it we couldn’t stop.
Lots of people have asked “how he did it.” I’m a self-proclaimed cranky feminist and I find a lot of highly-publicized proposals to be cheesy. But I have to say, Scott nailed it. He hit it out of the park, really. So, without further ado…
I knew it was coming, which was perfect, because I hate surprises and Scott knows that. He picked me up at 8:30 that morning to take me out to breakfast. As soon as I got in the car, he exclaimed, “Oh, no! I forgot my wallet!” (If he wasn’t so bad at keeping secrets, I might’ve believed him, because he has the attention span of a golden retriever with ADHD.) “I guess we’ll have to go back to my house to get it.”
Upon entering the living room, I found Scott’s younger brother Paul–who goes to school in Utah so he clearly had gone out of his way to do this–in a suit and tie, stretched out on the couch and holding a red rose between his teeth. The Rogers brothers blindfolded me, guided me into a vehicle, and we drove around for about 15 minutes.
I was pulled out onto a concrete driveway somewhere. A pair of hands clasped mine, and then undid my blindfold. We were at my parents’ house, and my brother Ethan was standing in front of me in a suit and tie as well, holding a bouquet of pink lilies, my favorite flowers. “Turn around,” Ethan said.
When I turned, I found myself face-to-face with a group of Scott’s and my friends, some of them from Phoenix who also appeared to have made the trip just for us. I absolutely lost it. Then Cheston, Scott’s best friend, lifted his adorable son Deacon in to the air and spun him around, revealing text on the back of his little shirt that read: “Kate, will you marry me? – Scott”
When Scott got down on one knee, I was bawling. “Well…will you?” he asked.
Then, we went inside and had waffles and watched basketball all day. It could not have been more perfect.
So, now that I’m e fejuar(I still dream in Albanian), Scott and our families and I are faced with the confounding mass of issues that comes along with merging two lives into one. Starting with the wedding. What do we want to do? How much do we want to spend? How many people? Should we have a traditional wedding? Is it worth it? Will we offend people if we don’t do things the way everyone else does? Do we care if those people are offended? Is it weird that we’re basically pandering for gifts from our loved ones? Who do we want to invite? Who do we want to just send announcements to? Should we hire a photographer? Why are we doing any of this? Why don’t we just elope?
There are lots of questions to ask, and I know I’m not the only one asking these questions, so that’s why I’m going to write about them.
Don’t call it a comeback.