While I’m excited to share wedding-planning deets with you, I should probably let you know how we got here. From the very beginning of our relationship, A and I planned on getting married. We got along so well as friends, and there was a level of comfort between us that I’d never felt with anyone before. I remember saying to him, “Had I known that you existed, that there was someone out there just like me, I never would have settled for anyone else.” Of course, I’m still a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, our paths to get to this point needed to be as twisted and messy as they were, and so on and so forth. So I wouldn’t change anything about how we came to be. But really, I wouldn’t have felt like such an oddball in this world if I had met him earlier. I guess that’s what growing up is all about, though, right? Self-acceptance?
Anywho. We just clicked from the very beginning, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was just a matter of time before we were married. So I was on the lookout for a proposal fairly early on. And I waited, and waited. Our friends would ask on occasion, “when are you guys just going to get married already?” At Christmas, A’s cousin asked us when we were getting married. By Valentine’s Day, even A’s mom was pushing for a ring, even sending him pictures of rings and trying to get me to talk wedding plans with her! On Mother’s Day, the family was making bets on when we would get engaged. A’s dad said he “[gave] it six months,” in his adorable Welsh accent. Well, future FIL wins by default, because even though everyone agreed it wouldn’t be long, he called it first, and it was about four months from then.