yes.
Today, I’m going to tell you about how Jesse asked me to marry him.
I have approximately a bazillion topics flapping about in my head at any given moment, and even have a whole post ready to go about kindness on social media. I journal almost every day and have so many concepts I’d like to explore through writing, but today I just feel like reminiscing on a memory that makes me smile. If you’re in need of a thought detour and enjoy a little sap, this post is for you.
I knew very early on in our relationship that I would marry him. When I was trying to come up with trivia questions for our wedding reception, I looked back on my Instagram to find the date of the trip where we first dropped the L-Bomb. I was thinking it had been at least a month, maybe two.
Eleven days. ELEVEN DAYS after our first date and I’m telling this boy that I love him. And we ended that date with a “see ya later” and a handshake, by the way. It took me a full 48 hours to recover from realizing he liked me “that way” to decide I was even open to the idea, and then 9 days later I’m all like “I love you.” Absolute madness, I tell ya. He moved in with me 9 months later, we got a puppy together just after our first anniversary, and the rest is history.
Fast forward to 2018, day 3 in Ireland. We’re finally feeling recovered from day one and buzzing from our first majestic castle experience at Blarney. The Irish love their lore, and once we got the Gift of Gab business out of the way, there were several opportunities to make wishes throughout the Blarney Gardens. One of them required you to close your eyes and walk down a set of cobbled stairs backwards, making your wish once you got to the bottom. I can’t remember what Jesse wished for, probably because it was something along the lines of a sandwich, but mine was that we would be able to buy a house soon. It was the next thing on our list of big goals, and we had been saving and preparing diligently for the past two years. Ireland was a celebratory getaway before we tied ourselves down to a mortgage, and we were SO ready for that step.
After Blarney, we drove an hour to Killarney in the beautiful County Kerry, home of the famous Gap of Dunloe. Before we could begin our 7-mile trek through the narrow gap, a “road” that just barely fit our giant 7-passenger van, we had one obstacle to overcome: Our very own Irish trickster. With his wiley eyes that looked everywhere but forward, unkempt hair and weathered face, I was convinced he had once been a goat. His accent was thick and upbeat with a jovial tone on the surface, but unsettling urgency underneath. He proceeded to lean into the van with his elbow rested on the driver side window, and tell us all about what he had to offer.
“I know the stories, the myths, the legends.” he said for the second time with the same inflection at every syllable, suggesting he’d been using that same line for a number of years. He tried to convince us that pedestrian cars weren’t allowed in the Gap, and our only choice was to pay 75 euros for him to give us a ride. Thankfully Jesse researched this stop ahead of time and he knew that the Gap was, in fact, a public road. I will never, ever forget the way the goat man leaned even further into the van (knowing he was getting nowhere with Jesse) and asked "What does the lady think?”
The lady thinks she wants your creepy ass out of her face, please and thank you. After about 10 minutes of trying to be polite, we eventually had to tell this guy we were going to go see for ourselves, and off we went.
The Gap of Dunloe was quaint as can be and everything you’d want in an Irish mountain pass. Sheep around every turn, winding roads, a babbling brook and moss-covered hills to boot. A couple miles in we stopped at the Wishing Bridge, AKA most precious stone bridge you’ve ever seen. There were a few cars parked nearby, but they must have been walking or biking because we had the whole place to ourselves. Traveling just before peak tourist season meant our views weren’t quite as green as you see in pictures, but we were plenty happy to trade that in for smaller, and often non-existent, crowds.
So, we grabbed some euros and set out to do what you do at a wishing bridge. After the wishes were made, Jesse did what he always does and promptly asked me what I wished for. Trust me, I’ve told him many times that if you tell someone your wish it doesn’t come true. I told him that I wished for a house again, partly because I really really wanted it to come true, and partly because I honestly couldn’t think of anything else I could possibly want. Life took a complete 180 when he came into the picture, and the adventure we’d been on since had exceeded my expectations by so much that I hardly even knew what to hope for anymore. Each day with him was a gift, and for the first time in my life I really, truly felt at peace.
After teasing me for wasting my wish, he says “Well, I’m pretty sure my wish was better than yours, and is about to come true…” and out from his pocket came a little burlap-covered box. In between broken sobs, a handful of holy shits and the kind of smiles that make your face hurt later, he told me that I was the kindest, most genuine person he’d ever met, and he would be so happy if I would be his wife. To be honest, I don’t think I even managed to said yes.
I’m not sure how many minutes went by before I realized he had put the ring back in his pocket, but eventually I calmed down enough for him to slip it on the ‘ole finger and he told me about how he had picked it out himself. Three gorgeous sapphires on a rose gold band molded from a real twig. I still don’t know exactly how he did so good without any help but, then again, he’s always been a wizard at anticipating my needs. I spent the rest of the day staring at my sparkly new treasure that represented 3 years of honest-to-goodness bliss, and a lifetime more ahead. And also trying to decide if I had hit my head hard enough at Blarney the day before to be in a coma.
Besides the whole “Will you marry me?” thing, I think my favorite part of that excursion was when our goat friend and his horses trotted by with a couple that were very likely wondering why there were half a dozen cars parked along the road that supposedly didn’t allow cars. Luckily my future husband was an expert planner, and completely swindle-proof.
I found out later, thanks to my family and friends, that I had been a little dense for not realizing that a romantic trip to Ireland was the perfect time to expect a proposal, but I was genuinely completely surprised. I was so content that I hadn’t had a chance to develop the “fever” that many women get as their relationship reaches that pivotal turning point. We waited to tell everyone until we got back to the states four days later, but you better believe I told the waiter at our first stop in Galway when he asked if we were celebrating anything in particular.
Also important to note, I decided that the real thing he had been wishing at all those places was to win every damn game of cribbage we played on that trip. Either that or he made a deal with a leprechaun somewhere along the way.
We should have just been returning from our next big adventure to Norway a few days ago. Sometimes it’s really hard not to be sad about missing our trip, especially since we’re not sure if/when we’ll be able to reschedule. But the thing that always snaps me out of it is remembering this: Our biggest and bestest adventure is the one we embark on daily, together.