Even though on our second date, I'd have married Eddie Virden (yes, we actually discussed it), it would be a full 5 years before we finally walked down the aisle and he crunched the glass under his foot. Around the 2 year mark I started thinking every day was engagement day. It was exhausting and disappointing, but I certainly wasn't going anywhere.
I remember him calling me at my job in Bethesda to come pick him up at a mechanic nearly an hour away because he'd been in a fender bender in Baltimore city. Giving him mental points for creativity, I honestly thought we were getting engaged and drove up there expecting him on bended knee. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the hood of his 1990 Honda Accord all crunched up. Moments like that would repeat themselves for two more agonizing years: trips to the grocery store, dinners out, side-by-side Stairmasters at the gym. I was really grasping.
Right around the 4-year mark in November of 1995, things started to go my way: we started talking rings. He'd come home from work and draw a circle on a piece of paper and I'd draw a bigger circle. We were really getting somewhere. I don't think it was any secret that our upcoming trip to southern California was going to be all about the engagement.
Arriving in San Diego, it was like having a third person with us at all times. When was this ring going to make an appearance? We both knew it was going to happen and we were both acting odd. He looked like he was about to donate a kidney and I was like a lion staring at a free organ.
Our first outing was the San Diego Zoo and we had a blast watching the gorillas during feeding time. I waited for Memba to beat his chest, sending a "Bro, it's cool, do it now" signal, but it wasn't meant to be. That evening we went on a sunset walk on the beach, holding hands and marveling at the scenery. But no ring. The next day we toured the Gas Light District. Still nada.
Late afternoon on our second day, we took a whale watching boat cruise. Just as we were about to leave port, we were joined by a family with a small kids. Those blasted rugrats continually circled the boat's perimeter, breaking up any mojo we had working. One particularly obnoxious boy camped out next to Eddie and shouted "WHALE" every time he saw a wave. I, on the other hand, was only concerned about spotting one in the platinum species. By the time our boat turned back for the harbor, I knew this was not happening.
Back at the room, I think we were both drained. I was chilling on the bed reading "High Fidelity" by Nick Hornby, knowing that I really needed to get dressed. Eddie had planned some super secretive dinner and obviously this whole thing was going down at the fancy schmancy restaurant. But obvious wasn't as obvious as I thought.
I could hear the tub running in the bathroom and figured Eddie was getting ready to shower up. He called me in and boy was I stunned. Laid out in front of me was the most beautiful setup: candles on every surface; platter of brie, crackers and grapes; a bottle of champagne and flower petals in the tub. He brought me back out to the room, said all the things a girl dreams about hearing and popped open that black velvet box exactly 1,490 days from our first date. Then he popped THE question.
After that shiny sucker was in place on my left hand he said, "Can we just tell everyone it happened on the whale watching trip? That's where I really wanted to do it, but that loud mouth family was ruining the whole vibe. Plus I thought I might drop it overboard." Of course, I said yes to that question too.
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