My Surprise Proposal

I know this is a little late (3 months), but here it is: the story of my engagement...

I’m engaged!!

…wow, it’s five days later and saying that still puts butterflies in my stomach!

My fiancé, Brett, and I (ohh saying the word fiancé still gives me goosebumps!) got engaged last Friday. His proposal was more romantic than I could have ever imagined, and I was totally surprised.

He had me believing that I was going to have to wait another six months before he’d pop the question…six months!

But without further adieu, here’s how the happiest night of my life (so far) unfolded…

I had just come home from work and was sitting at the kitchen table clipping coupons (yeah I know, I’m a couponer!). He came rushing through the door and told me that a good friend of his was passing through town and staying at a nearby hotel, and he wanted to meet up for drinks in the lobby bar.

I said “OK” but secretly I was a little annoyed considering tonight he had promised me a romantic date night out…just the two of us. But I got changed anyway and he rushed me out the door.

When we got to the bar his friend wasn’t there yet so we grabbed two seats and ordered a beer each. Brett pulled out his cell after getting a (pretend) text message from his friend saying he would be down in 10 minutes (looking back now, his phone didn’t even ‘ping’ when he got the message. Hello — red flag!).

My fiancé excused himself to go to the washroom, so I just waited, hoping his friend — who I had never met — didn’t come while he was gone.

So I waited…and waited. It was probably only five minutes but it felt like an eternity.

Finally the waitress came over to me and asked: “Allison? This is for you,” and she handed me a small envelope. I stared at it for a second thinking to myself, ‘What? No one even knows I’m here!’

I ripped open the envelope revealing a room key and a note. The note read — and I’m paraphrasing here — “As you’ve probably figured out, we’re not meeting anyone here. I promised you a romantic evening so please join me up in Room 379.”

“OK,” I whispered under my breath, obviously a little taken aback. I took a few more sips of my Bud Light Lime, switching my slightly perplexed gaze from the note to the room key and back to the note again.

I took a deep breath and walked toward the elevator.

When I arrived at the room door I held the key card in front of me, my hand began to shake. I opened the door and there he was, standing amongst rose petals and dozens of lit tea lights.

I walked in, looking around the room in sheer pride. “Wow, you really can be romantic!”

He smiled, took my hands, bent down on one knee and asked me to marry him. And you better believe I said “Yes!”

He did good. Really good.

Advice to the Proposers…From a Recent Proposee

Granted, being proposed to doesn’t make me a proposal expert by any means. But I just thought I’d throw a couple pointers out to you gents anyway.

So guys, let me tell you, whether you’ve practiced your proposal since you were a boy or just plan to wing it, know this:

We ladies have been waiting for this moment for most of our lives, so make it count!

By making it count I don’t mean you need balloons, crowds or to broadcast it over the Jumbotron at her favorite sporting event. Just be yourself. Trust me, just being yourself will mean more to her than any glitz or glam proposal.

That’s what did it for me. Admittedly, I never thought my fiancé could have ever pulled off something like this. And just knowing that he went through all the trouble of planning something so covert, so romantic really does mean the world to me.

An hour or so after he proposed, Brett finally admitted how nervous he was to do it. It wasn’t that he’d ever thought I’d say “No,” but just making sure that the timing was perfect, the other people involved did their part and I didn’t somehow find out about it beforehand was enough to have him on edge.

His advice: cover all your bases, guys. Hide all receipts and try not to act too weird or anxious.

Oh and drink a beer or two beforehand. It helps loosen the nerves, apparently.

Good luck, guys, and happy engagements!

Today’s Bride: You’re Sexier, Choosier and More Unconventional than Your Mother

You’re showing off your curves, your cleavage, and even running barefoot in the ocean in your one-of-a-kind white dress. After all, it’s your wedding day — the biggest day of your life — and you can celebrate it any way you want.

We’ve all done it. Ever since we were old enough to wrap the living room drapes around our head and escort our favorite doll down a makeshift aisle assembled between the couch cushions, we have dreamt of our wedding day.

The groom, the venue, the flowers and, most importantly, the dress — it’s all been strategically planned out in all of our bride-to-be minds throughout the years.

I remember flipping through my mother’s wedding album as a young girl. She looked beautiful, my father was handsome, but there were definitely some aspects of her wedding day I swore I would never repeat.

Saying 'Yes'

I still haven’t done it and I’m sneaking up on 30, but I’m in no rush to tie the knot. My mother, though, was barely in her 20s when she got married.

As today’s bride, we want to travel, start a career and even have a family first. We’re not saying ‘yes’ to the first guy who asks and we won’t be getting divorced. Our daughters are our flower girls, we do it when and how we want to and we don’t need our fathers to fork over the cash.

We want to be absolutely sure we’re marrying Mr. Right Forever not Mr. Good Enough for Now.

The Ring

All dream weddings have to start with the dream ring. My mother’s was yellow gold with the tiniest diamond shimmering in the center. My father picked it out all on his own and paid for it with whatever he could spare in his savings — which wasn’t much.

My rock will be bigger, shinier and fashioned to a white gold band.

The Groom

OK so this dream guy is probably much the same as our mothers’. We’ve all fantasized about our tall, dark and handsome bad boy standing there at the end of the altar. Nowadays, though, he doesn’t have a handlebar mustache or satiny teal cumber bun.

Instead, he looks dapper in a relaxed suit, casual shirt and khakis or even barefoot on a beach.Those perfectly tailored monkey suits or brown tweed ensembles of our mothers’ more traditional generation wouldn’t fly at our weddings.

The Bridal Party

As today’s bride, we want our entourage to look good at our side. No more puffy sleeves or sea foam green, unflattering get-ups for our closest friends and family.

My mother, believe it or not, shoved her poor bridesmaids in long-sleeved, floor-length, dark green synthetic velvet dresses. Awful!

The Venue

Stuffy drawn-out church ceremonies have been replaced by more personalized, brief unconventional vows.

We want to get married outside, in nightclubs, restaurants or even under the sun down south. I want a destination wedding — it’s more my style, cost-efficient and makes for unmatched picturesque memories.

The Dress

Unlike our mothers’ floofy, long-sleeved smocks, we want our flawless figure-flattering strapless designer gowns to show off our assets and our personalities.

We have replaced long veils with flowers, chic headpieces and even feathers strategically placed in our softly tussled side ponytails.

As today’s bride, we sport fuchsia stilettos under our dresses and send out save-the-dates over email or Facebook. We have themed, eco-friendly and even backyard weddings — and it’s just like we had always dreamt it would be.

Good luck and happy weddings!

It's more than a matter of trust

** The next exercise at the writing workshop asked us to describe something we've done, either real or made up, that is unforgivable. This is what I dreamt up...

I cheated.

I was always so scared I would hurt him. I'm selfish. A coward.

I thought I could overcome it. I begged him to marry me, to commit his life to me, his soul. To trust me.

I don't know why I did it. I was never lonely, or deprived of love or intimacy. It was something I did to sabotage myself.

I knew I couldn't do it. Be faithful. And I proved myself right.

Do I confess?

No, I can't tell him.

He would hate me. Divorce me. And never want anything to do with me.

I betrayed him. His trust.

Tears begin welling up in the corners of my eyes. But I'm not sad. I don't feel sorry for what I have done.

They are tears of self pity.

The place I'd rather be

** I attended a writing workshop last weekend. One of the exercises we did was imagine the one place we'd want to be and describe it in five minutes. This is what I came up with...

I lay back against the soaked chair. I close my eyes. Splashes of water hit my face and send chills from my neck down to the small of my back.

I open my eyes, they squint as the sharp rays of the sun send spears through my vision. I put my head down.

I adjust myself into a sitting position, look up and realize as I stare at the large, hairy, scantily clad figure standing before me that my eyes have now overcome the brightness.

The figure walks by. I continue to look beyond me. Over my bare stomach and legs. My toes shoved into the wet, white sand in front of me.

The roar of the water radiates in my ears as the damp seeps into the bottom of my bathing suit. It's hot, almost too hot, but the chill of the waves makes it easier for my body to relax. I collapse deeper into the chair.

My hand resting gently against the chair's plastic arm is touched. I feel the hard grasp wrap around my wrist.

I look over my shoulder at him sitting next to me. His eyes fixated on mine. His gaze glides down my body to my hand. His fingers now intertwined in mine.

I smile as I realize there's no other place I'd rather be.

** Now describe why the place is so special, so important...

This place is my serenity. I come here when I feel hurt, lonely, like nothing I do is worth even the slightest consideration.

It is a place to reflect. To help me understand who I am or who I long to be.

I am not yet 30. Although sometimes I feel as if I have already lived more than half the life I was meant to live.

My life feels empty. Unfulfilled. It's a feeling that the hectic nature of any week leaves me struggling with.

Here, there is no busy. There is no stress. No sorrow.