As promised, I have quite a story about my engagement. But first, let’s talk about how Cam and I came to be the Cameras!
It all started in late summer of 2009. I had accepted a position in North Carolina and was gearing up to move. This was a big deal. I was leaving home and moving to a state where I knew exactly zero people. Any of you in healthcare know what a process getting licensed is (and I’m sure other professions as well), so I filled out all my forms and just waited. And waited. And waited for a total of four months from the time I graduated until I actually set foot in the ER I would work in. I did a lot of cleaning my parents’ house and watching more daytime TV than I care to admit.
I was getting antsy, y’all.
More importantly, I was very anxious because how was I going to meet people!? This wasn’t second grade recess. A friend had recently joined Match.com, and at the time had been dating her boyfriend for six months with no end in sight, so she suggested I check it out and see what sorts of male-folk were in my future home. So I created a profile and begrudgingly wrote about my interests and hobbies, all the while feeling like it was a huge waste of time. I spent the next several weeks fielding emails from people and trying to decide whether or not to “wink” back at a person. (This is Match’s version of the Facebook poke, and just as awkward.)
Several days after I signed up, I got an email from a fairly normal appearing young man whose interests included beer, sports, and hanging out with friends. Oh, and redheads like Lindsay Lohan. (I never, EVER let him forget he put that on there.) We emailed back and forth for several days, and on a Friday afternoon he wrote this exact message:
“Well, I hope you have a great weekend. I’m headed down to the lake to pull some shenanigans with my buds.”
SHENANIGANS WITH YOUR BUDS!?
I vividly remember saying UGH and clicking the delete button, tossing Shenanigans to the “not for me” column.
I moved to North Carolina and settled into my new Southern life, when I got an email from a familiar face in early December 2009. It was Shenanigans. Only this time his profile had changed and there was no mention of Lindsay Lohan. He asked me out, and for some reason I accepted. I tried to get out of the date three times, but various friends insisted I go. So I did. And I met Shenanigans, who shall henceforth be referred to as my fiance! We watched some football, drank some beer, and ate some wings. It wasn’t love at first sight, but he didn’t use the word shenanigans once, so I agreed to go out with him again. Online dating FTW.
Fast forward to 2012.
We moved from Greensboro, North Carolina to Charlotte, North Carolina for two new jobs, moved into a townhouse in the city, and were happily living our lives. On New Year’s Eve, he said to me, “This is the year we’re going to get engaged.” Well, OK then. As if I wasn’t already thinking enough about it.
Hive, there is one thing I have always wanted—to be surprised about my engagement. And let me tell you, that is exactly the opposite of what happened.
Cam spent the next 10 months essentially dangling a carrot in front of me. First he said, “Don’t make plans for April 28th.” April 28th came and went and no ring was on my finger. (Later I would find out he had planned on a big tax return that never happened.) Next up he told me not to make plans for June 28th–31st because we were going on a “secret trip.” I asked dozens of people what they thought that could mean, and everyone had the same idea as me—obviously a ring. NOPE. We had a wonderful three days on Hilton Head Island, but all I could think about the entire time was the ring! He could tell I was upset and asked me about it, to which I responded, “Why else would you take me on a secret trip right now!?” His answer? He thought I needed a “beach vacation.” I love him but, gosh, I wish he’d use his brain sometimes.
Oh hive. It was a long year.
Then finally, FINALLY on October 7, 2012 he was watching another notoriously horrible Carolina Panthers loss on TV and yelling and swearing, as he does every Sunday, when he said, “Let’s go out to dinner after the game.” So we went to our favorite restaurant in Charlotte—Dandelion Market—and he suggested we take a walk to the Green (Charlotte’s much, MUCH smaller version of NYC’s Central Park), where he sat me down on a bench and proposed.
Confession: I knew it was coming the entire time. I mean how could I not? It was great and perfect, and honestly I was just happy to have that suspense over with—it was giving me an ulcer! But part of me can’t help but wish I had a more surprising proposal. I have friends who have since had proposals that were captured on video or in photo, or had a “present” under the perfect tree at the Christmas tree farm. I’ve had a self-diagnosed serious case of APE—Acute Proposal Envy. Sometimes I wallow in self-pity and watch surprise proposal videos on YouTube in an apparent attempt to sabotage myself.
Then I put my big girl panties on and remember I’m marrying my best friend, and suddenly the proposal story is obsolete.
Another fun fact: Cam asked what type of ring I wanted and my answer was simple, literally. A princess solitaire on a platinum or white gold band. What I got was a brilliant round with side stones. And confession: I LOVE IT SO MUCH MORE. / Personal photo
Did you know your proposal was coming? Was it a complete surprise? Do you have proposal envy?