An hour before I asked Alex to marry me, she was explaining to me that she might have to go back to Group Health later that evening for additional tests. The doctors were pretty sure that she had her second ovarian cyst in six months but were waiting one some blood work to confirm their suspicion.
I told Alex that should be fine since our dinner reservations were at eight. This was of course a lie. There were no dinner reservations at eight. In fact, I was freaking out because our closest friends were gathering in 45 minutes at Quinn’s, where I had planned to surprise Alex on the night our “anniversary” and ask her to marry me in front of them. And one rogue ovarian cyst was about to ruin the best laid plans.
We met at Quinn’s in Capitol Hill three years ago. It was a Friday night. The rain pissed down from the dark February sky. From my hazy memory of that evening, I remember we sat at the table by the window. I remember the flickering candle light that was illuminating our cocktails. I ordered something with whiskey. Alex ordered something with gin. We had two drinks each. I wore jeans with the suit coat I bought with my Fantasy Football winnings a month before. At the end of happy hour, neither of us wanted the night to end. So we walked to Smith. Almost a mile uphill. The rain picked up and our umbrellas provided the only respite from the cold February rain.
I remember there was a wait. Alex ordered the fish. I ordered the pulled pork sandwich with either an Olympia or a Rainier. I thought the pulled pork presented me less as a carnivore than the Smith burger would have (Alex was a pescetarian at the time). Despite only knowing each other for a couple of hours, I knew I had stumbled upon something special. And I hoped for the best as we parted for the first time.
Within a year, we moved in together. After two years together, we spent three weeks in France. Soon after we got back from abroad, we had a joint banking account. And we knew were going to get married. We settled on a ring. All that there was left to do was simply ask her.
I asked Paul if he had any Champagne that I could buy from him. He didn’t. He asked me if I had some. I said I had a couple of bottles that I was saving for a special occasion. “Nick, this is the special occasion,” Paul quipped.
I lied to Alex and told her we had reservations at Westward. I told her that the restaurant had a random buyout on that Tuesday and the earliest reservation was at 8:00 p.m. I did this so I could suggest casually a drink at Quinn’s. Meanwhile, I had asked our closest friends to come to Quinn’s for dinner without Alex knowing. I wanted to propose in front of them. That afternoon, I had dropped off the wines for dinner. Now, I just needed to her to get to Quinn’s.
Around 5:30 the lab results came back clear. No additional tests needed. Alex was relieved for obvious reasons. I was relieved for obvious reasons. I suggested that we go to Quinn’s for a drink before Westward. She agreed. I packed two more wines into my messenger bag.
As it was a Tuesday night, Quinn’s was relatively quiet. The hostess had left her stand and I suggested to Alex that we go find a seat. We headed upstairs to the communal table and we saw everyone there. They quieted down. I said the following:
For the last year or so I knew I wanted to do this in front of our closest friends. Such a life event should not be just for the participants involved but also for the witnesses that have helped carry this journey forward. Especially, as someone who has kept their dating life as public as I have.
These past three years have been a blur. And it is hard to remember the life I had before meeting you. Often when I recall going to a particular restaurant, I always think it was you by my side. Not one of the random numbers that came before. And while we may have known that we are going to spend the rest of our lives together for some time, we both know it is time to make it official.
On this day three years ago, in this very gastropub, we met on a rainy Friday evening. We talked about the meaning of life. Death. Purpose. Existence. In these three years, I don’t think we have figured out the answers to these topics. But I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you trying. Alex, will you marry me?
She of course, said yes.