[The Proposal]

(From the orginal post on Tuesday, January 12, 2010)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We plan a winter trip to Cancun back in June (Apple practically paid us to go – Who’s scared of Swine Flu???), and life moves in 3x fast forward until the night before departure. (Frantic packing and cursing ensued)

Travels are uneventful – got to the airport on time, no delays, direct flight to Mexico, expeditiously maneuver through customs. (My paranoid search for Mexican banditos immediately upon arrival comes back negative, but I do contract some minor arthritis from gripping my bag handle and purse so tightly)

Upon arrival at the resort a bellhop takes our bags up to our room, and I add cardiac arrest to my newly developed list of health issues since we hadn’t yet checked in and he didn’t ask our names, so I assumed “our room” meant “the back of my van.” (Tip extra generously when he does indeed safely transport our bags to our room)

Our original room was lagoon view and smelled a little funny, but I just thought that was the normal smell in Mexico. Mr. Honest Bellhop asks how we like the room – I’m still struggling with irregular heartbeats and the 70 degree difference from Cleveland to Cancun, but somehow manage “Oh, it’s great – Oceanview would be wonderful though.” My cynic points go down drastically when he says (read in strong Spanish accent) “I thought you would like that. I have one ready for you already. Please follow me.”

View from our balcony (mind boggling how different the Caribbean looks than Lake Erie...)

I wore my bathing suit on the plane (there was some thrill in wearing a bikini in Ohio in December) so we drop our stuff and immediately headed out to scope out the grounds. I won’t go into details, will just leave it at: EVERYTHING WAS GORGEOUS AND AMAZING INCREDIBLE AND WARM AND NOT CLEVELAND.

After dinner (delicious) we walk on the beach and I squeel like a 6 year old everytime the tide comes in, because despite my hillbilly upbringing, I highly dislike water that is not PH-balanced and/or comes with a diving board. (Eventually I get over my ‘seaweed ties me up, get stung by a jellyfish, and eaten alive by little oceanfish’ fear and do get in the water)

This was the next day (still a little nervous about swimmy things nibbling my toes)

We head up to the outdoor patio bar for a couple drinks, and I have yet to come to terms with the absolute gorgeous-awesomeness paradise we’re staying at, so during random lapses in conversation I blurt out things like “GOD it’s so nice here!” and “OMG just listen to the tide come in, it’s so cool!” and “How much do you think it will cost to stay for a whole month?” and “OHMYGODICAN’TGETOVERITWE’REACTUALLYHEREANDIT’SBEAUTIFULANDAMAZINGANDPERFECTAND… ” And this is how it plays out from there:

B puts down his drink. I’m still goofily smiling and staring out into the water. He grabs my hand and says, “I know how it could be more perfect…” I look at him like What?! You’re crazy! This can’t get any better! but instead say, “How?” He slides off his chair and gets down in front of mine on one knee. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring that is pretty much my exact essence, if I were made of white gold and round cut diamonds. It’s gorgeous, and I’m staring at it with one hand over my mouth, before I realize he’s waiting for an answer. (I had assumed my “yes” was a given) He puts the ring on and it’s a perfect fit, and we hug and kiss and by this time I’m crying a little, and our cocktail waitress came over to make sure everything is ok. Yes, Cecelia, it couldn’t be better…

I promise I wasn't wearing this oversized hoodie during the actual proposal

After the fact, I learn Brian had attempted to ask about a hundred times, but my random interjections about the incredibleness of the resort/ocean/drinks/birds/my progressing Spanish kept throwing up little roadblocks. Woops.

Similarly, I find out why he seemed a little pale and shaky when going through customs, at which time the ring was in his backpack and we pressed a button that randomly chose each visitor’s bag-search fate. (I, unbeknownst of the potentially surprise-ruining situation, was thrilled and thought ‘What a fun little lottery game to play! Watch babe! Green! You’re good! Red! Aww, bummer. Green! Green!’) ((The guy right in front of Brian got red-lighted.))

Revisiting our illustrious spot on the patio bar, overlooking the bi-level pool, and the caribbean sea

And also? I was 100% totally, completely, mind-numbingly surprised. Serious. For the girl that’s always thinking four steps ahead, that was a total accomplishment on his part.

So that’s how it happened. We spent the rest of our time there telling people we were “celebrating” or “practicing” rather than just “vacationing” like we were the day before. Feel free to gush and swoon in the comments below – you’ve got a little while until he’s officially off the market.  ;)

5 thoughts on “[The Proposal]

  1. i just stumbled upon your blog and i love your writing style! what a sweet proposal! where did you go in mexico? and where did you stay? we are looking into going over new years this year and want warm weather for golfing and enjoying the beach :) thx!


  2. Your writing skills are astonishing,
    it is in fact 3 in the morning here and I can’t sleep so thought I would doss on the internet. I stumbled on your blog and find your writing skills astonishing, you write in such a way that makes the reader want to read on if you ever write a book I will be first in line to buy it but in any event good luck and may good things happen to you and for you.


  3. I’m wondering what he would have done had the ring been pulled out at the airport in front of God and everybody. Stopped right there and proposed?



Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s