Our Proposal Story

After reading countless wedding blogs--and now, from first-hand experience--I've learned that the first thing people will want to know after you get engaged is your wedding date (sorry, that takes a while to lock down!). But the second thing they will want to know is how the proposal happened. You will have to tell it over and over, and then over again when someone new finds out or just enters the room mid-story. It doesn't hurt to write down the whole experience in attempt to capture all those wonderful feelings while they are still fresh--and then send people the link. So I did:

It's not like I didn't think a proposal was coming...eventually. We'd been dating for five years, and he promised that once he sold his house and had no more debts or responsibilities to bring into the relationship, we would move forward toward marriage. His house closed on May 30. I tried not to be too antsy after that. Sure, it was about time, but I didn't want to expect a ring the very next day. I wanted a little surprise, a little romance. And I didn't want to assume anything. He had to worry about cutting off utilities and paying off his student loan. I hinted, and joked, and waited. We had an anniversary coming up June 20--the first time we watched the sunset together on the longest day of the year. Maybe that would be the time. Of course, the forecast on my phone said 113 degrees on the longest day of the year. Maybe not.

Then on Monday, June 12, 2017, I asked if we could go to Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner. Not our usual meal, but they were having a fundraiser for a dog rescue and I printed off the ticket on Facebook. He seemed to be receptive, though somewhat hesitant. Maybe he just wasn't in the mood for wings.

After work I bought groceries and he came home only slightly later than usual. I thought nothing of it. He had errands. He had promised to buy me a copy of the live-action Beauty and the Beast movie on DVD. Or maybe he had stopped to pick up food, not in the mood for Buffalo Wild Wings. He asked if I still wanted to go.

I still wanted to, but was willing to change plans if he had something else in mind. That's when I saw him in the closet, looking at his dress shirts. Long-sleeved, button shirts and fancy pressed slacks. It wasn't 113 degrees yet--the weather had actually been a rare 60-70 degrees brought down from a windstorm the night before--but he isn't the type of guy to wear dress shirts even in cooler weather. I was suspicious.

"Do you want to walk or drive?" he asked me. We weren't going to Buffalo Wild Wings. He was taking me to the spot where we first watched the sunset together five years ago. Even though it was early for our anniversary, the weather was perfect and there was still light in the sky. I decided to change into a fancier blouse myself.

"Drive," I answered, my heart fluttering. I was a little nervous and excited, and still not wanting to assume anything.

We drove around to where the jogging path began, leading up to the top of a small hill behind my house that overlooked the park and mini-lake across the street. As we walked up, hand-in-hand, I reminisced about the first time we visited "our spot."

At the top of the hill was a bench, a tree, a glaring afternoon sun, and a view of the crystal blue water across from us. He grabbed my phone and started searching through my music, appalled that he couldn't find the song he was looking for.

"A lot of my music from CDs didn't transfer to my new phone," I told him. "These are mostly songs I bought on iTunes. Try YouTube."

I had a guess what he might be looking for, but I still teared up at the opening notes of the song "Beauty and the Beast."

He held out his hand and asked me to dance.

We turned in circles at the top of the hill, our foreheads touching, staring into each others' eyes and trying to avoid the sun. When the song stopped, I knew what would happen next.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," he practically whispered.

And I was in tears. He said my full name, "Stephanie Michelle Espinoza," dropped to a knee, and asked me to marry him.

When he opened the ring box I was stunned. It was exactly as I imagined it--better. As if my dream ring had popped right out of my imagination and into his hand. The perfect braided band. The perfect round diamond, crystal clear and sparkling in the sun. But even if it hadn't sparkled, even if it wasn't anything like I imagined, I was so perfectly happy that this moment had finally come.

Crying, I leaned over and pulled his head close to mine. He stood up and I held him. We were both crying. I mumbled yes over and over, and kissed him over and over and just stayed in that moment until I could calm down enough for him to pull the ring from the box. I had avoided taking pictures of the proposal moment, but was given permission to take a picture of him with the ring now. I snapped a shot of him, teary-eyed, with the lake behind him. Since I still had my phone out, I managed to snap a few photos as he slipped the ring on my finger as well. A perfect fit.

We sat on the bench together just admiring it, soaking it all in, believing it was real. I took pictures of our hands intertwined. We breathed. We laughed, smiled, cried. And then it was time to call my parents.