I’m a grant writer, so when I hear the word “Proposal” I think immediately of a grant application. But this post, inspired by this project, by way of The Bloggess, is about the Will-You-Please-Spend-The-Rest-Of-Your-Life-With-Me kind of proposal.
Ellison and I moved in together because of my cat. Seriously. This is Gerbot. When Ellison and I got serious we spent most nights at her house, because for some reason she wasn’t into the fraternity that lived on the first floor of my house. One of my roommates had moved away and the other was a crazy computer scientist trying to both finish college and prepare to move across the country, so Gerbot spent a lot of time alone. She is very high strung, and as Flippy and SmartyPants noticed on their recent visit, suffers from separation anxiety. One day I came home and she was sitting hunched in the corner, eyes wide, yowling her head off, all puffed up and agitated, and I decided that we needed to move in together.
Some months later, just shy of our first anniversary, I was sitting on the couch watching TV. Ellison came into the room looking irritated and agitated. She kind of shuffled her feet around, and finally pulled a bag out of her pocket, tossed it at me, and said, “This is for you.” Inside the bag was a box, and inside the box was a ring. I looked at it, looked at her shuffling her feet, and threw it back at her, saying, “If you want to make an adult commitment, you need to act like an adult,” or something equally charming. (Like that? Remind me to tell you about our first kiss.)
I don’t even remember the re-giving, just that she met some key criteria including eye contact and actually handing it to me. After more than 8 years later, I couldn’t be prouder to make my life and home with her. And though we continue to debate the formalization aspect – whether or not to fill out the paperwork – we’re both still stupid in love, more every day.