Where to start? Many of you already know what’s been going on with Lisa and I, as of late. However, since she occasionally reads this website, I’ve had to hide the details on my super secret livejournal. Now it is time to make the official announcement:
Lisa and I are engaged. Last night I asked her to marry me, and she accepted.
Oh, you wanted some details?
Part of me wants to go into great depth about our relationship, its ups and downs, how we got from there to here, and all the semi-romantic sentiments in between. But its taken me a couple hours just to get this far in the post, so its time to just get the story down.
The one definite from the beginning was that I wanted to propose in Hoboken. We met and lived so much of our relationship in the town, it was only appropriate to start the next step there, too. So I looked for a good setup, a cover story the would get Lisa into town with the least bit of suspicion. Amazingly I found the perfect situation thanks to Amy Correia – a singer/songwriter Lisa had introduced me to. Unfortunately she only put out one album with a major label a few years ago before disappearing, but Lisa had become quite fond of the effort and listened to it regularly. I was thrilled when I saw that she would be performing at The Goldhawk on the 14th. So I set the wheels in motion, letting Lisa know that there was a special show goind on that night, but not letting her know what it was.
I had hoped for a nice dinner before hand, but that might have tipped her off. With the time constraints of an unsure starting time, our best bet was pizza at Gio’s. Pleasant enough, and continued with the theme that the night was all about a music show. Once we arrived at the Goldhawk, Lisa saw Amy’s name up there and was thrilled. The opening act, Ben Carroll, was fantastic and we enjoyed talking with him after the show. But the main attraction was definitely Amy, and she did not disappoint. As a perfect ending to her set, she sang an a capella version of Lisa’s favorite “Star Fishin'” at her request. Afterwards the two of them had a nice conversation about music and writing.
With the conclusion of the “main event,” I suggested that we swing by the ol’ Open Mic night and see how things were going. My plan was to talk to Ivy, or whoever was running things, to call me up to stage and I would propose in front of our friends (assuming enough of them were there). But, after dealing with Lisa’s upset stomach, we arrived at Rue de Jardin to find it already closed. I knew things wouldn’t go completely as planned, but that one definitely threw me for a loop. So I told Lisa to call Ivy and see what was going on. Turns out the Open Mic rarely runs late these days, so it wasn’t a surprise. Then she invited us over to hang out with her and our friend Paul. Lisa handed the phone over to me to get directions for a shortcut. As Ivy continued with her usual chatty self, I finally had to move on:
“I’m sorry Ivy, but I have to go so I can propose to Lisa right now.”
That line definitely floored Lisa. I then explained how I wanted the spot to have some significance, and the sidewalk in front of the current location of the Open Mic we met at would have to do. “And in your own words, ‘You and I were meant to be together,'” I said, quoting her own song. Then I got down on one knee, pulled out the ring box, and popped “The Question.” And just to make the moment that much more Hallmark-like, a group of Hispanic women walking by started to clap for us and congratulate us. And after many hugs and kisses, we finally made our way back to the car. That was just about 24 hours ago, and it all feels a tad surreal.
I was hoping for more eloquence, when writing this story, but I will have to let the moment stand on its own merits. I managed not to throw up, pass out, screw up names, or even use the word “booyah.” And she didn’t laugh. That should be reason enough to celebrate success.
Thank you to all of the wellwishers, who have been waiting patiently to move forward. It’s always important to have friends and family back you up in decisions like these.