Diamonds go with sweatpants, right?

Sol and I have been talking about marriage for several years, because early in our shared history, we both realized that our friendship and relationship were exactly what we wanted for the rest of our lives.  In fact, Sol purchased an engagement ring after only a year of dating—however, he didn’t propose until three years later.  Why did he wait so long?  He is fond of saying that he had to put me through a three-year “wife audition,” and I am fond of slapping him when he says that.  The truth is that for two people who take nothing seriously, we both take marriage pretty seriously.  Neither of us were in any position to be engaged or married three years ago:  I went back to school to finish my undergraduate degree, he was studying twelve hours a day for his medical boards, and we were both pretty immature and irresponsible (but only on the weekends).  The timing just wasn’t right.

In January, we decided that the time was right, and we began to think more seriously about getting married.  Unbeknownst to me, Sol called and set up a meeting with a wedding coordinator at the Chicago Cultural Center, which was one of the many places we discussed for a reception venue.  To my knowledge, this is the one and only time that he has ever planned ahead for anything in his entire life.

On Sunday, January 22nd, 2012, I was sitting in bed while finishing up some last minute emails.  We were leaving for a vacation in Mexico the next day, and I had to tie up all my school and work loose ends before we departed.  I heard some vague, muffled talking from the living room, but I didn’t know who Sol was talking to.  He came into the bedroom with tears streaming down his face, and I immediately thought someone died.  It turns out that he had a pretty emotional conversation (happy-emotional) with my parents when he called to ask their permission and blessing for the proposal.

I instantly jumped up, ran to him, and asked him what was wrong.  He pulled out the ring and told me he was going to propose to me in Mexico, but he just couldn’t wait another minute.  He got down on one knee, asked me to marry him, and put the gorgeous ring (seriously—nice work, Sol!) on my finger.  The proposal was just…us.  No gimmicks, no choreography—just us, in the home we made together, in sweatpants.  Perfect.


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