On Engaging an Engagement

(Look, I know this news is a few weeks old at this point but bear with me, it’s been a busy month for me!) So, for any of my readers who have paid attention over the past few years, I’ve mentioned my significant other, Cecilia (aka Cece, aka Dr. Cece aka Cheese), quite a few times. At this point, we’ve been dating for almost six years and I have some good news and some bad news. Bad news first: she’s now my ex-girlfriend. Good news: it’s because on our recent trip to Italy (something we’ve been planning for a literal calendar year) we got ENGAGED! Since that moment it’s been basically all cloud nine and congratulations but I wanted to give you all a little insight into the runup to that moment because BOY is it a stressful process.

When I finally decided to pop the question, the first people I told were, naturally, my parents. My mom burst into tears and my dad barely didn’t. It was a lovely moment but also terrifying because the ball was now rolling, meaning I had LOTS of new things to take care of. Thankfully when it came to picking a ring, my mother gave me a beautiful family heirloom that had a lot of meaning behind it, so check one item off the list.

The next two things to take care of were talking to her parents and getting the ring sized and repaired, both quite stressful tasks in very different ways. First: getting the ring sized since it would take the longest. This part made me feel like a spy…and not in a particularly cool way. I had to carefully watch which rings she wore on which fingers and then when she was showering or sleeping, sneakily grab them and trace their sizes onto note cards. With those stolen nuclear plans ring outlines and a very patient jeweler’s help, I was able to dial in a size that I only second-guessed 10,000 times (it ended up being an almost perfect fit).

Then, I had to talk to her parents. Thankfully they’re wonderful people whom I’ve gotten to know and love over the past half-decade. I was pretty certain they’d be jazzed about the whole thing but my hands were still drenched in sweat when I met them for lunch. The whole meal went swimmingly and now there was REALLY no going back (not that I ever wanted to but still… it made it more stressful!)

Now, all I had to do was retrieve the ring, hide it in our small apartment for 3 weeks, and transport it 6,000 miles across several international borders without getting my cover blown by airport security, customs, drug dogs, pickpockets, or a girlfriend who was just looking for Advil or something. And, by some divine grace, I pulled it off. I got the ring from Los Angeles, through Zurich, through Rome, and into Cinque Terre, where I found a beautiful place to get down on one knee and ask the girl I love more than anything in the world if she’d like to marry me.

Miraculously, she said yes! And now you know why I haven’t been responding to all your wonderful comments for the past few weeks (so sorry about that but at least it got you this essay)! Thanks for your patience, and thanks for coming along on this ride with me <3