Last weekend, during the Jump Jive and Swing Christmas Ball, I asked Alyssa to marry me. Once she figured out how to talk, she said yes. I couldn’t be happier. Now, I know someone is going to ask for the story. People tend to be interested in that kind of thing. I don’t mind telling it, though, so here’s how it happened:
The Jump, Jive, and Swing Christmas ball was that weekend and we had been planning to go for a while. As we thought about it though, we decided to maybe make it into a “danciversary” date. The first time we had gone dancing together was at the Jump Jive and Swing Christmas Ball two years ago, we didn’t know it at the time, but that was our first date. I had been looking for an opportunity to propose for a few weeks, but it never felt right. This jumped out at me as the perfect time – the meaning was definitely there.
Even thought school wasn’t over, we decided that we needed the time together, so we did homework all morning and got ourselves dressed up and I made sure to slip the ring into my inside jacket pocket. I picked her up (she looked stunning, but she said something about me looking nice myself) and we went out to a nice dinner, which is where may dad had suggested that I propose (he was the only one who knew it was coming on that specific day). However, we both tend to be more private people and I figured Alyssa would not be terribly pleased with me if I made a scene about it. We enjoyed an amazing Italian meal together, wishing the whole time that we could enjoy some wine with our calamari.
After dinner, we walked and got a slice of chocolate cheese cake and some coffee. The evening was going incredibly well. It was the first real date we’d been on in a while, and we were both able to forget about school, which had been pretty hard to do with the end of the semester looming. Then we went out and danced like we used to, before we got busy with school. But something was wrong, Alyssa started to feel unwell. We ended up sitting by the dance floor, both feeling a little out of breath. I asked if she wanted to take a walk outside and talk for a little, and she said that she would very much like that. Making sure to grab my jacket, we headed outside and had a lovely chat.
The weather was beautiful that night. It was clear and only slightly chilly. We just stood there, talking. Laughing. We ended up alone out there, she was standing against a wall and I was in front of her, face to face. I reached into my pocket and found the ring, keeping it hidden in my hand while I moved it into an easier pocket. My heart was racing. We kept talking about whatever, I really don’t remember – I was slightly preoccupied. I think Alyssa finally paused for a breath and I said, “I have a question… Will you marry me?”
Her response was the best thing I’ve seen in my life. At first she didn’t really think I was proposing (she would’ve walked away if I’d dropped a knee, she told me so on the way home), giving me one of those, “aw, of course I’ll marry you” type answers. But I asked her again, “no, seriously. Will you marry me?” and put the ring under her hand so she could feel it. Her eyes flashed and her face lit up like I’ve never seen before. She couldn’t figure out what to say, “are you serious? Is this really happening right now?” “yeah, this is really happening.”
She was crying, I think I might have been too. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so happy, honestly. “This is really happening. Is that okay with you?” She kissed me, looked me in the eye and simply said, “yes,” (I don’t know that she could have managed much more than that) “it’s very okay.”
I am now a happily engaged man, helping to plan the cutest wedding I’ve ever seen. Cute but elegant. We aren’t wasting any time, and I’m sure some people will have an issue with that. We’re still deciding on a date, but it will most likely be sometime next year. I’m getting myself for the inevitable cascade of assumptions, judgments, and opinions that are sure to follow any engagement where, either (not to mention both) parties are under twenty-one. Or twenty-five. Or any other age, for that matter. It seems that everyone has an opinion on how old is “old enough,” and no one is shy on sharing it. My attitude has always been, “to hell with the world, you’re all in the hand-basket anyway,” So here I am, 20 years old, engaged, planning our wedding for next summer, doing my own thing and having an awesome time of it.
“Haters gonna hate,” as they say. I’d wager that they’re just jealous, even though we’re both broke. Maybe if they realized that, they’d be less jealous and give us donations instead of criticism. Oh well, we have plenty of months to see what they say.
Thank you to everyone who has been with us up to this point, and thank you to everyone who will stand by us while we see this through. Here’s to good hundred-year run of us, a stress free wedding, an awesome cake topper (anyone want to buy this for us?), and lots of dancing in the future! Yeah, this is really happening.