I was 100% sure. We had discussed marriage, but she was waiting for me to ask. I got the ring and made a plan. I was going to ask while we were in Ireland, where she’s from. The timing was complicated by the fact that we were going there for a wedding and I wanted to wait until after the wedding so as not to take anything away from the bride’s day.
About a month before our trip, we were on our way to a wedding in the US. While I was driving she seemed sad and finally admitted that she was jealous that all of her friends were getting married. “When are you going to ask me?” “I promise that it will be within a month.” That satisfied her for the time being. But it took something away from it for me because I wanted the tradition of it all. I wanted her to hope that I would ask but not expect it.
I managed to surprise her anyway. We took a walk to her favorite beach in her hometown and sat and talked. Then I got on one knee, said what I was feeling at that moment (the words are lost forever in the wind), showed her the ring, and asked “Will you marry me?” She had been enjoying the relaxation so much that she didn’t see it coming.
I was fairly confident, but still nervous. In retrospect, my confidence seems absurd–we’d been dating for two weeks, and had known each other for less than a month. God alone knows why she said yes.
(Our twenty-first anniversary will be next month. )
According to him, I beat him to the question by about 5 minutes. So I guess we were both sure.
I’m not sure I believe him though. He procrastinates. He might have put it off again.
26 years happily married and counting …
I was asked; it wasn’t a surprise, as we’d already lived together for some time and knew that marriage was on the table.
He wasn’t too sure of the answer, and apparantly neither was I, as I didn’t really answer until about 8 months later when I asked HIM. Kudos to him for not falling apart when I couldn’t answer yes right away.
Oh, I’d say roughly 100% completely and totally sure. She designed a ring to match her grandmother’s, and we had the diamonds from her grandmother’s, her mother’s and MY mother’s engagement and/or wedding rings. We had it made at a local jewelry store, went back for a fitting, and she ended up having to pick up the finished ring herself.
Then… it wouldn’t stop raining. I knew when and where I wanted to propose, but it was down in San Diego and we could only get there on the weekends, and for a month and a half straight it rained every weekend. She had to stare at the box sitting on a shelf in our bedroom for 2 months before I finally got a chance to take her on a picnic and ask the question. And since she was crying before I even started to ask - yeah, pretty much 100%.
I was 100% certain of the answer. My wife had been giving me a hard time about it one afternoon on our way back from the supermarket. She was saying to me, “You’re never going to ask me to marry you…” She didn’t know there was ring in my work bag, which was in the seat behind her. I replied, “What would you do if I reached in the back, and pulled out a ring?” Her reply will not be shared to spare the guilty.
I was waiting for a planned trip to Jay Peak, then up to Montreal which began the next weekend.
I asked her father the next day, and thankfully, he kept the secret until after we had left for the trip. I proposed at the bottom of the mountain, and got the expected yes.
It’ll be 12 years married in September. I even got the size right.
)
