F#11: Fiance

After almost four and half years of dating, my significant other has become my fiance. The official date was Feb. 24, 2013, but we had to wait a few days to go truly public so S.O. could tell parents and grandparents.

I don't know how I expected I would get engaged.  I dated another person for five years starting in college, and we broke it off because he didn't appear to want to get married.  When the S.O. and I started dating, there were a lot of factors that led to that sort of forward thing to be back-burner material.

I sometimes imagined a big spectacle, in front of total strangers, or family and friends.  But I also am someone who HATES spectacle, especially when I am the focus of it.  (Please, do not have the wait staff come over and sing to me for my birthday.  I will leave the restaurant and wait for you all in the car.)  I had envisioned a huge diamond, flanked by sapphires.  

What I got, of course, was much better.  In keeping with truth, I was having a bit of a "where is my life going?" breakdown on the night in question.  I was crying quite a bit.  The S.O. disappeared for a moment, after he was sure I was at least temporarily done with the sobbing, and reappeared.  After some words of encouragement, he did get down on one knee and gave me the ring I really wanted--my paternal great-grandmother's engagement ring.   I cried again, obviously, and then said yes.  So my engagement happened in our pajamas, in front of our cats, at 10:30 at night.

Given my phobia of spectacle, I did not make a big announcement at work.  I told one colleague immediately, because she was excellent at decoding Facebook statuses.  I waited until the Wednesday after to tell some more colleagues, but have been keeping it on the down low because...well, I get super red in the face and it's not a good look for me.  No one I work with seems to understand why I am not jumping up and down screaming this.  It's not that I'm not happy...I am positively elated that it is MY turn.  I get to wear the dress, plan the wedding, and cry the tears.  By previous generations' standards, I am positively an old maid!

So, the S.O. and I are getting used to rolling the words fiance/fiancee around on our tongues.  We are bracing ourselves for every conversation to begin with "What dates are you looking at?"  We prepare for debates over guest lists and locations.  But then I get to look at my left hand, and see Bomba's ring on my finger (a ring that fits perfectly) and I am so excited that it doesn't even matter.