It's about time

It's about time for another blog post, and even more importantly, it was about time for me to finally man up and do something that's been on my mind for ages. I put off taking a knee for much longer than I needed to. The excuse that everything had to be "just right" was too easy to fall back on. I put off writing this post for a while because I wanted to tell the story from a more objective point of view. The sappiness was thick enough in the birthday blogs written back in August.

The story officially began on August 2, 2003. I was invited to play softball with my coworkers and as it turned out, I crashed the birthday party of one of their friends. A few seconds after getting hit in the back with a softball, a softball that was chucked in towards the pitcher's mound from center field as I walked back from second to the dugout, I finally got my chance to meet the birthday girl. The birthday girl had thrown the ball that had hit me, so she ran up to me to and, as was only proper given the circumstances, she first introduced herself, then she apologized. Her name was Miranda.

Fast forward to early 2008. There's an extremely long story about my months of preparation leading up to August 2, 2008, but I'll save that for a follow-up post. I'm afraid that the story of how the ring was found and how it made its journey to Sweden might rival the epic story told in The Lord of the Rings.

Enough exaggerating. August 2 turned out like many typical fall days here in Sweden. It was grey, cold and rainy. Apparently fall isn't marked by a date on the calendar, but rather by the first week that the clouds overtake the sun. There were a number of things that made this particular Saturday a little special though. First, it was Miranda's birthday, as previously mentioned. Second, the city of Stockholm was hosting Europride 2008. Third, Miranda's mom and sister were in town.

The day started with the four of us extending our umbrellas and taking a hike down to Bee's Thai, a restaurant that Miranda has been craving since she first set her eyes on it back in April. After we were satisfied with our delicious meals we set back out on foot to pick our spots for the parade. We took a detour by my office, grabbed some hot chocolate and borrowed a few umbrellas. By the time we were back outside the rain had stopped, but I guess that's just another unimportant detail that I'm too lazy to remove.

The parade was fun. I actually had no idea what to expect, but I couldn't help but laugh inwardly at the irony of taking part in Europe's biggest gay pride festival on the same day that I would later propose to Miranda.

Miranda and I left Kendell and Taryn at our favorite Swedish pizza joint while we went home to get ready for our birthday date. I really didn't want to propose on Miranda's birthday, but so many things lined up that made this particular day work that I would have been stupid to try another day. Most importantly, her mom and sister were here in Sweden to share in the excitement. Next on the list of priorities was the fact that Miranda would take a trip back to the U.S. just a few days after the engagement, giving her the chance to tell all of her friends in person. Next, we had met exactly five years earlier, and lastly, it was our first time alone in about a week and a half.

So we got dressed up, took a few pictures, enjoyed some more of Miranda's birthday cake, and took off to try a new restaurant that we had never tried. The restaurant was on the other side of the island, so we took the subway and walked into a small place with a decent sized bar, simple northwoods type decorations, and the perfect amount of taxidermy, including a moose head mounted on the wall and an owl hiding in a gap on the way down the stairs to the men's restroom. They served traditional Swedish dishes, so Miranda tried the Biff Rydberg (my new favorite dish), and I "enjoyed" a bland moose burger with lingon ketchup. I did my best to butter Miranda up during the meal, throwing rapid-fire compliments her way. They were all sincere, but I'll be honest, complimenting is sadly not a habit of mine, so I'm surprised that Miranda didn't think that something bigger was in the works.

We left with big smiles on our faces and stepped onto lamp-lit streets and a mild sprinkle. I put up the umbrella, hugged her close and suggested walking down to the waterfront. The sky was black and from what I can remember, the rain made everything quite pretty. The sidewalks were empty, there were no boats on the lake and everything was as peaceful as could be. I suggested taking the long way home so we could enjoy the night and even though Miranda was wearing heels, she happily agreed. We walked a few hundred meters and stopped on a small footbridge to look at the skyline. To the left you could see the steeples of the old town and the bright lights of the city's main transit hub. Across the black lake you could see the high black cliffs with the lights of some cool old buildings up top. We talked for a while and did our best to take everything in. Finally I suggested moving a little farther up the path, that way we'd be off the path if anybody was walking by. There were a few small docks nearby, so we made our way up and walked out onto the first dock. We were still huddled together under the umbrella. I don't know when my conversation drifted from a sweet statement into a proposal, but somewhere mid-statement and mid-hug Miranda realized what was happening. I pulled back from the hug to look at her, even though I don't know if I could see at this point, and as I slipped a small package from my pocket and placed it in her hand, I said that I have two questions. The first question: "Do you want me to ask the next question in Swedish or in English?" The response: "Swedish." We cautiously worked to untie the knot and unwrap the tissue paper. Once the ring was out I said, "Vill du gifta mig?" (Do you want to marry me?) I honestly don't remember if she said "ja" or not at the time, but I followed my first question up by taking a knee and asking again as I put the ring on her finger, this time in English. This time she definitely said yes, and after about 20 minutes of joyful tears, we finally decided to walk home and share the news.

So there it is, the procrastinator did his job. Five years later and he finally popped the question. Five more weeks later and he finally wrote about it. At the rate we're going we might actually get around to setting a wedding date one of these days!