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When I last told you mine and Mr. Woodpecker’s story, I had filled you in on how we met and dated, but left off the most important part!
Like our first meeting and date, Mr. WP’s proposal was also pretty nontraditional. Mr. WP had talked A LOT about getting engaged and what each of us wanted. We both knew that we wanted to wait until I had graduated from school to get married, and we knew we didn’t want to be engaged for too too long, so for a while I always had the idea of a proposal in the back of my head. I never went crazy thinking about when Mr. WP would propose, but I knew it was coming soon.
In December 2010, I gave my notice at my job. It was no surprise, and Mr. WP and I had been preparing. I needed to be available to start the internship part of my program and couldn’t do that at my job at that time because of the hours. It was for this reason that I again saw nothing coming around the Christmas season. Mr. WP and I had planned to do a smaller Christmas and not go too crazy.
Because we had been open about our plans to get married, I had shown Mr. WP a couple of times rings that I liked. I had also given my sisters explicit directions on what I wanted should he ask them. I was expecting that Mr. Woodpecker would need some help, but I was not expecting him to ask me to pick it out, which is what he called and asked me to do on December 22nd.
…sisters, that is! (Forewarning: this post is pic heavy.)
Sweetie Scone’s family goes on a canoe trip just about every July in the Ozarks, and in 2010 we were able to head east to join in on the fun. The whole family was going to be there, including my FSIL. She was still head over heals in love—she and her boyfriend were starting to plan for their Kansas City wedding (pre-engagement) while they were in town, so we decided to do a little multitasking and we checked out venues together with my FFIL.
Now to get the proper idea of what the weekend entailed, there was some drinking on the river, some playing on the river, some more drinking on the river, a quick trip to a beautiful national park, and did I say drinking on the river? Oh yeah, floating in inner tubes and playing in canoes…we also had a couple hours driving down and back. Wanna see?
You know that question…so how did they ask you? Tell me how it happened…
That question is kind of complicated for me because, while she officially asked me way back in August of 2009, we both agreed we had goals we wanted to achieve before making it official. After spilling the beans a bit in my last post, I will break it down a smidge more…
On a lovely hike in Yosemite, Sweetie Scone pulled me to the side of the path overlooking Vernal Falls and gave me a beautiful box (that our wedding bands will reside in until our wedding). We had already been talking about our pre-reqs and our plans to get married and build a life together, but that day really set things in motion and we firmly created the pre-reqs.
Pre-reqs were done, we moved out of the cracker box into a cute standalone cottage, and after waiting for more than a month the rings were ready. We headed to Walnut Creek to pick those babies up on our way to SFO.
Personal picture / In the lobby of the jewelry store a split second after picking up the rings
Our friends invited us along for a last-minute trip to Yosemite. I had never been even though I grew up in northern California. It was sacrilegious that I had never been, and a low-cost getaway with friends sounded like music to our ears. We loaded up the car and bolted on a Friday after work. Hiking was on the agenda for Saturday. Six of us got up and ready to roll in the morning. We decided Vernal Falls was the best route to take. Now I don’t know about you, but when I imagine hiking I envision being one with nature, not feeling like I am at an amusement park. The drive into Yosemite took my breath away; the first part of the hike was a refreshing way to stretch our legs. As we got closer to Vernal Falls and approached the stairs, it felt like we were at Disneyland.
Image via Bill Edwards Photography / Photo by Bill Edwards
Doesn’t that look peaceful and beautiful? Well, word to the wise, on a Saturday in August it is a bit more like this:
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I’m gonna get real again. But this time I’m not going to complain about my weight as I shove chocolate chips into my gaping mouf. This time, I’m talking about The Dark Side of Proposals. Sounds scary, right?
I read this post about weird feelings that come with the proposal on Glamour’s wedding blog a few weeks ago, and it struck a chord for me. The gist of the post is that proposals can be kind of awkward, even if you’re overjoyed by the proposal, the person asking, and the prospect of marrying them. Even if the proposal is well thought out, romantic, and beautiful (like mine totally was!), it can feel kind of awkward.
When I pictured Mr. Unicycle putting a ring on it, I think I imagined everything moving in slow motion while something composed by John Williams played in the background. I pictured Mr. Unicyle saying something inaudible to me (the music would play over the audio so the screenwriter wouldn’t have to come up with something actually heartwarming to have him say) while tears welled up in my eyes (sans running mascara). I’d hold my hand over my mouth while he whispered sweet nothings, he’d ask, I’d nod yes, he’d slip the ring on my finger (without any struggle at the knuckle area), and we’d embrace. The scene would fade out while the music swelled. Roll credits.
OK, maybe we’re not so shocked.
Now first, before I share this story with you, I need to be upfront.
My name is Miss Coyote and I am a control freak.
Seriously. I watch David Tutera get in there and change a couple’s wedding two weeks before and I have a panic attack. I once turned to Mr. C and asked him, “Can you imagine if we were on this show? I don’t know if I could handle it!” He started laughing and told me that I wouldn’t let poor David out of my sight until he showed me the entire blueprint for the day. Stay away, David. Stay far away. You’ve been warned.
Because of this I was pretty involved in picking out the ring. For a while I was obsessed with side stones. I spent way too much time staring at rings like this:
Image via Blue Nile
Create the honeymoon of your dreams.
So I would love to tell you that Mr. C and I went on to live blissfully for the next six years and that he surprised me with this romantic proposal and everything is just sunshine and unicorns and rainbows.
But I’m not gonna tell you that. Because that’s just not the way life is.
The dude and I spent about four years of awesomeness together. Then somewhere toward the end of that fourth year, things started changing in my brain. I got The Itch. You know it. The put-a-ring-on-it itch. I started to ask myself all of these asinine questions like: Where is this relationship going? What are his intentions? Does he even want to marry me? Did I leave the iron on?
It was bad news bears. And it kind of scared me. Because the reality is…I’m not that girl. I’ve never been that girl. I never cared about getting married. Or throwing a wedding. Or having babies. It just didn’t matter to me. We were just having fun and we were both happy and that’s all that really mattered. Then all of a sudden I freakin’ snapped.
I owe you an apology.
How can I possibly share my wedding journey with you if I don’t even tell you about how it started??
Well, I hope you can forgive me because that’s not what this post is going to be about. I was actually going to explain to you how we started venue hunting in this post, but I am easily distracted and it somehow morphed into the story of the night Mr. Coyote hung me out to dry.
I guarantee it’s way better than talking about venues, so I hope you enjoy this little detour.
The real story begins in 2005, but it would take me like six years to tell you that story (I tell stories like Ted Mosby), so I’m going to be really random and start somewhere else. I’m not even going to tell you about the night he proposed. OK…I swear I will share that story with you eventually, but for now here’s a sneak peek:
Personal photo / The night we got engaged. Aren’t we adorable??
Of course, as soon as he popped the question I called my parents to share the wonderful news and a week later we went to visit them.
Thursday, May 19, 2010 was the closing ceremony of the leadership program where we met five years ago and of which we have been active members ever since. We decided it would be a great way to celebrate our pre-anniversary (we had set May 19, 2012 as the wedding date) in full circle. We sat down to chat with old friends, and he was invited to say a few words on behalf of the College of Engineering Student Council, of which he is president. So at the beginning of the opening presentation, up he goes to the podium to speak and he proceeds to tell everyone he is going to propose!
He explained the reasons why he chose that particular date (pre-wedding anniversary) and place (surrounded by all our friends and the program that watched our relationship grow), and then he said that he was complying with the things I really wanted in a proposal—lots of people and lots of pictures. (If there aren’t any witnesses or photographic proof, it didn’t happen or at least I can’t prove that it happened.)
He then asked me to join him up in front while proceeding to talk about my engagement ring. I had made a huge deal beforehand of the fact that I wanted to choose the most important piece of jewelry I will ever wear. With that in everybody’s mind, he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him in the most adorable way ever (ketchup to my fries, salt to my pepper, PB to my J—Will you marry me?) with his mother’s engagement ring in his hand so I could pick my own later on. After that all you could hear was my really loud “Finally” and the claps and cheers of the crowd.
Being together for over four years has given us lots of time to think/obsess/discuss marriage. We talked about getting married after college graduation, but the first time we seriously discussed marriage was while on vacation in Vieques.
Now, lets take a break to drool over Vieques beach scenes…
Now one of the most frequent questions we get as a lesbian couple is, “Who proposed to who?!” and “Who gets the ring?” Well—I’m here to tell you that we BOTH proposed, and we both got rings! We’re both fairly “girly” girls and we both wanted a proposal and rings. We’re both a little…lipstick. Props if you got that reference!
Image via Ambiente
Anyway—because we both wanted a ring and we both wanted proposals, this wasn’t a “surprise.” We picked out rings together and set out a day we were going to propose to one another. Yes, we are GEEKS. We wanted it to be on the same day, so that we could say that was the day “we” got engaged. I’m a scientist, what can I say?
Mr. Opossum proposed on a typical Sunday. I hadn’t showered yet (we were planning on going to the gym later that afternoon), and I had been begging him to take me to get some frozen yogurt. We stopped at the ATM (because Mr. Opossum needed cash for a “surprise”) and headed over to get frozen yogurt.
While I was getting out of the car Mr. Opossum was messing with something in the back seat. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was fixing a bag of clothes that had tipped over. He was taking too long for my taste, so I told him I was going inside because I needed my yogurt… Little did I know that he was trying to get my ring out of a bag and two boxes and into his pocket without me noticing.
After we ate our frozen yogurt we headed off on our drive. He had a completely different destination in mind (he was planning on proposing to me at this awesome historic plantation in neighboring Thomasville), but I asked him to take me into this little gated neighborhood out in the boondocks. After an unsuccessful first try at sneaking through the gate, we followed a truck into the neighborhood and drove around looking for houses (a favorite pastime of ours) until we found a sign that said “Lake House.”
We followed a little gravel road down to this pretty little spot by the lake. There is this cute little building sitting in the center surrounded by tons of trees and a really great view of the water.
Personal photo
“How’d he do it?”
If I had a nickel for every time someone has asked me that question…I’d be able to…maybe cover an appetizer for one of our guests. The point is, you have to have your story down. Every family member, friend, vendor, acquaintance, store clerk, and bus driver will ask you to tell about that fated event. Don’t get me wrong—I LOVE telling the story, but I’ve told it a LOT over the past few months. And I think that’s a bit unfair.
That’s right—I think the men get it easy. Shouldn’t they find themselves recounting the events of that evening to the guy on the next weight bench over?
OK, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch scenario but, in my opinion, the proposal is really Mr. Turkey’s story to tell. After all the time and effort put into planning…he should be able to tell his side of the tale. And so here, in Mr. Turkey’s own words, is the story of our engagement.
Hi there…Mr. Turkey here. You don’t know me, but if you were to list the top 100 traits to describe me, I am pretty sure that “spontanous” would not even make the honorable mention. But that is probably what made our engagement night so special.
No, I’m not talking about the vehicle through which Betty White revitalized her career. I’m talking about the event that turned Mr. Unicycle into my fian-SAY.
Here’s how that shiz went down. I drove up to Milwaukee—the land of beer, cheese, and the bronze Fonz—to visit my boyf one weekend, as I often do. We were planning on taking a mini trip up to Cedarburg—the land of wool, old people, and more wool—the next day.
Image via Historic Cedarburg
As I was getting ready to go to sleep Friday night at around 11 PM (what can I say, I’m old—I’m practically a dad), the boyf announced that he’d be waking me up early in the morning.
“Exactly how early?” I questioned. I’m a details person and, let’s face it, the wool could wait. He told me 5 AM.
I know it’s been a while since you’ve heard from me, but I wanted to check back into the hive with some exciting news! It seems to be true that good things come in threes and yesterday was proof of that little theory. When my boyfriend (who we will enthusiastically call “The Ginger” from now on) came home from work, I spent a good twenty minutes rambling about how giddy I was since: 1.) I managed to land a job interview with an amazing company and 2.) I found our foster dog a home with a loving family. I asked him about his day and we exchanged our usual stories about each others’ latest happenings. He asked what I wanted for dinner and I told him we could make pasta since we are in need of groceries and it’s one of the only edible things in the house right now. Apparently since he made dinner last night (which consisted of scooping tuna salad I had made onto bread), it was my turn to do the cooking since we switch cooking and cleaning every other night. I cluelessly didn’t realize at the time that he was trying to lead me into the kitchen.
So, to the kitchen I went, where I asked what type of pasta he wanted. I rattled off our options and asked boring inquisitive questions like “what’s the difference between linguine and fettuccine?” When I went to grab a pot from our cabinets, just about our entire cookware set came toppling over. Typical Ms. Candy Corn spazzery was taking place. I started boiling a pot of water and filled our Brita water pitcher, which I put in the fridge without realizing this was waiting for me:
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