Part One, if you are just joining.
I left Brock behind me as I went through security, and spent my Christmas at home, with my family. I missed Brock, and we talked every day, but there didn’t seem to be any huge, catastrophic event waiting in the wings.
When I returned home, I kept waiting for something awful to happen. Our reunion was happy, and things returned pretty quickly to normal. A few days later, we went up to spend the day at Brock’s parents house. We had dinner with them, and then Jane, Brock and I went out to see P.S I Love You.
Here’s a funny thing. I’ve been blogging since 2004 and this one has already been written – so I’m going to copy and paste it. It is written in present tense, instead of past; the style feels a little bit different. But still good.
January 6, 2008
Brock and I were driving home from the movie we had just seen with his mother. It was supposed to be a ladies day out, but Brock didn’t have anything else to do, and I had a feeling that I would want him to see this movie with me. I enjoy seeing sweet and happy movies with him.
We like to discuss movies after we see them. It is interesting to talk about what we liked, what we didn’t, events that occured, and the way with think it should have gone. I was practically gushing about the movie, talking about how the author of the story must be just like me. She wrote the story exactly the way my brain told me it should go. She made the right choices.
Out of the blue, Brock asked me, “You think I’m romantic don’t you?”
I hemmed and hawwed, kind of put off by the question. I hadn’t really felt like Brock had been romantic in quite a long time. Long gone were the days of waking up to flowers, and coming home to a hot bath with candles. I couldn’t remember the last time I was surprised with a thoughtful gift. I hesitated for about a second before I replied, “You used to be…”
“I used to be? But I’m not anymore?”
I could already feel the regret at my answer. Do I be honest? Would I like him to be more romantic? Do I feel sad that that part of our relationship has passed? Or am I comfortable with the relationship that we have become? “Oh, no baby, don’t get me wrong. You are very sweet! You do sweet things all the time… just not romantic things like you used to.”
“Is there a difference? What is romantic?”
The definition, as I saw it, was racing through my mind, “Sweet things are spontaneous… you do them just because you feel like it. Romantic things are planned out, in advance, and you know how you want things to happen.”
“Oh really? Should I be more romantic, angel? What should I do?”
The guilt has completely sunk in at this point. I’ve realized that I have hurt Brock’s feelings, and I start to scramble to recover. By now, we’re parked in the driveway, and we’re just talking. The car is still running, the stereo is playing the new Foo Fighters album, and I’m trying to head off the hurt feelings and the potential fight that I have just caused. There is a little tension in my chest as I try to laugh, “Of course not! Brock, I love you exactly the way you are! I love how sweet you are. You make me happy every single day!”
Brock smirks a little and leans over to kiss me. I linger over the kiss, trying to show him how special he is, how I treasure these little moments. As his lips brush mine, he murmurs, “Would you like me to make you happy for the rest of your life?”
A smile pulls itself along my lips as they kiss his again, “Of course, angel. I want nothing else.”
He reaches over and pulls my hand toward him, holding it tightly in his. He squeezes my hand and pulls away from the kiss. “Would you make me happy for the rest of mine, Mandy?” I feel a cold peice of metal slip on to my finger. On to my fourth finger. Slowly it slides perfectly into place, like it was made for my hand. “Would you marry me?”
The shock I feel at this point is entirely real. I pull back like I’ve just been slapped, eyes wide open, and blurt out, “Are you SERIOUS?” The grin on Brock’s face hides a mixture of pride and fear. My breath catches in my chest, and the tears begin to flow. My hands, now cold with excitement, fly to his cheeks and hold his face so close to mine. I’m crying now, sobs that shake my whole body, but it is pure joy. I have never been so happy, so overwhelmed, so perfectly surprised in my entire life. How did he do this? How did he manage something so perfect? I had been so sure up to this point that no proposal could shock me. There wasn’t a situation I envisioned in my mind that would cause any reaction other than simply happy.
I kiss and kiss and kiss Brock with my cheeks wet, my hands shaking. I realize he is still waiting, still on the edge of his seat.
“Brock! Of COURSE I will marry you! Oh my God, I love you!!”
The Brock and Mandy show is cleared to air. We’re getting married.
Brock had had the ring since the middle of December. He was planning on proposing on Christmas morning. His utter dismay at being unable to travel to Canada with me was because it destroyed his dream of proposing on Christmas morning. To this day, he still says he wishes he had done a more spectacular proposal, but the ring was burning a hole in his pocket. He couldn’t wait a second longer.
We went out that night, with friends, to celebrate our engagement. And then we went into wedding planning mode. We decided pretty quickly to get married in October of that year. We had no desire for a prolonged engagement, and things were going well. There had been no resurgence of porn, we both had great jobs and life was good.
To be continued.