antiprincess

On so many levels it was not supposed to end up like this. First of all, I wasn't supposed to love him. I had no plans to get with the person I would fall in love with and then marry in high school. It was not in the plans. But he was cute with his bleached hair, and sweeter than I knew he could be, so we started going out. Less than a month in, he told me he loved me. And, although I didn't mean it at the time, I said it back. I didn't really feel like there was another option at that point, save for breaking his heart, and I was definitely into him. And I did fall in love with him, gradually at first. But even then, the new plan was to break up with him before I left for college. I didn't think that a long distance relationship would work for either of us.

But then, well, mostly I don't know what happened. We went to Disney Land for Grad Night, an evening I still count in my top five days ever. He drove with me to orientation day at my new school, and when that was a wash, we found a beach where we spent the rest of the day in each other's arms. He bought me tickets to my first concert, during which he subtly protected me from the rough people around us. I cried in his arms the night before I left for school, and he helped me move into the dorms the next day, giving me a tearful, lingering hug as he left with my mom. We saw each other almost every weekend. He was the only person who came to see me almost as often as I came to see him. He didn't drive, so a couple of times he left his house before five in the morning, so he could walk 2 miles to catch the morning commuter ACE train to BART. Reunions were always joyful, and goodbyes always sad.

So when I went to pick him up for a weekend visit in mid-September, and he started dropping hints about a question he was afraid ask, I spent the weekend dropping my own subtle hints that the answer would be positive. Sunday night my roommate was home, so we went down to my car, me in my pajamas. Somebody suggested we take a drive, so I drove, and he directed me. We ended up at the previously mentioned beach, deserted and dark. We spent a short while cuddling in the moonlight, and then trekked back up the stairs to the parking lot, while he made comments about a troll living under the stairs. When we reached the top, my heart was pounding, a result of the stairs and the excitement. I put his hand on my chest to feel it, and he put mine on his. Time briefly stood still as he fought with his fear, wanting to ask me. His fear won out for the moment, and he kissed me instead. We got back in the car, him directing again. The song "Breakfast at Tiffany's" came on (immediately preceded or followed by "Kiss Me"), and he told me to pull over, we were there. There being the deserted parking lot of an Old Navy. It was then and there, during that song that he asked me to marry him. Even though I had know it was coming, I was still literally speechless, and all I could do was kiss him and beam. Regardless of those positive signs, he begged me for an answer, which I was finally able to give after what seemed like several minutes. He had no money for a ring at the time, so to mark the occasion, we pillaged the floors of my car, collecting $2 in change so we could drive over the Bay Bridge and back, as I had never seen the lights of the city by night.

It was Easter Break, and he had moved to the city by then, and I was back home for Easter, when he called and said he had something for me. I drove to BART to pick him up, and when we got back to my dad's house, he gave me my ring, a purple stone (my favorite), with 2 little diamonds and gold hearts. It was beautiful and perfect and again my heart was so filled with joy and wonder that words were not enough. I kissed him and smiled and was perfectly and beautifully happy for days. I don't know where that ring is now, and I think a part of me is lost with it.