Before I delve into our quest to host one kick-ass party, I should tell the story of how we got engaged. First, because I have learned this is a very big deal to people. Second, because it sets the tone for the kind of couple we are and the kind of wedding we will throw:
November 2009
Because holiday travel is a royal pain in the ass, my fiance's family decided we would rather all fly somewhere for Thanksgiving and blow off traditional Christmas. Years ago we did a similar family vacation at Disneyworld, and figured we'd relive the memories. (Yes, we recognize that Disney is a machine, cranking out disturbingly faux happiness; however, as I work full-time, am getting my masters part-time, and live in New York City (the antithesis of the happiest place on Earth), I wanted to vacation in a place that guarantees its guests a good time. Or they will be shot.)
I digress...
We arrive in Orlando and take Disney's Magic Bus to the resort. En route, we pass the Disney Wedding Pavilion and my boyfriend snarkily suggests that maybe we should get married here. To which I reply, "First of all, you never bought me my ring [side note: I had fallen in love with a gorgeous blue sapphire ring in October 2008 when his brother and wife were planning their wedding] and I would never do something so contrived and ridiculous as get married in Disney's Wedding Pavilion!" He conceded that he never bought me my ring and announced maybe he'd do that when we get home. Yeah, I'll hold my breath.
We reach the resort and meet my fiance's aforementioned brother and his wife, whom we love. We ply ourselves with booze poolside and head to the Magic Kingdom, proceeding directly to the GREATEST RIDE OF ALL TIME: The Haunted Mansion.
And, as you rightly suspect, as we are riding our doom buggy through the cemetery, my boyfriend leans over and admits that he lied when he said he hadn't bought my ring. He pulls the beautiful sapphire from his pocket (praying that neither of us drop it in the eerily dark cemetery) and says, "I love you very much; will you marry me." To which I replied, "Okay."
I never said I was eloquent — I was so shocked that "Okay" was all I could muster. Later, he confessed that he scripted various things to say, but was so nervous that he couldn't remember any of them. Hey, man, I lamely said "Okay." I guess we can be at a loss for words together. For the rest of our lives.
