Bill and I have travelled to some extraordinary places.
We had dinner in Bangkok in the rooftop restaurant of the Banyan Tree Hotel, above the noise and the smog of the city below, and ate at a table for two with white tablecloths.
We stood alone at the Byron Bay lighthouse at night and looked out into the dark blue sea from Australia’s most eastern point.
We climbed the Statue of Liberty and gazed back at the city of New York on a clear winter’s day, rugged up in scarves and jackets.
And every one of those times I couldn’t help thinking, ‘Is he going to do it now?’
You see, when you’re approaching 30 and you’ve been with someone for almost a decade, you start to believe that a marriage proposal is lurking at every romantic destination. Excitement builds, you get sweaty palms, you have trouble breathing as you prepare the acceptance speech in your mind.
Then, at dinner, at the lighthouse, at the top of the statue’s staircase, Bill drops to one knee and…
Ties his shoelaces.
Picks up a $2 coin.
Takes a photo of New York from the lower perspective so he can ‘fit it all in’.
I would let out the breath I’d been holding all morning. Bill, oblivious to my expectations would make a random comment about the view.
Great. Yeah, I guess.
This was how it went a thousand times over. Even at dinner on our 10 year anniversary when I was certain a proposal would happen he didn’t even order dessert, claiming he was tired and felt like an early night.
So how did he do it in the end? How does a man top a thousand magical destinations and declare a lifelong commitment to his wife-to-be?
Sitting on the lounge at home in our pajamas watching Futurama on the TV, he whips the ring out of his pocket and says ‘I was wondering if you wanted to marry me?’