I've been writing since the middle of the night. Last week, I posted almost twice a day but this week has been difficult. I am going through this period where I have too much to say. All of it is connected so it's hard to just stick to one topic per post. I started writing about two of Belledame's posts but then I realized that I needed to talk about how my past made those posts affect me as they did. So, I switched to writing a post about that but then somewhere in the middle of it, I realized that I wanted to talk about a subject that I had never delved into on My Private Casbah.
I haven't written very much about The German on my blog. I can't say for sure why that is. I mean, I could say it if I knew why but it's just something that has worked out that way. Back in June of last year, I wrote about how he and I met and became a couple but I stopped short of anything past that point. It wasn't until last night that I realized that I have never written about how we came to be the way we are now.
Even though this blog has taken on a life of its own, my first intentions were to use this as a means of writing about my life so that when I am gone, VanGoghGirl can know what kind of person her mother was. It's a thought that has stayed with me all throughout the almost two years that I've been blogging, so there are some things that I mean to write about for her sake so that if I were to die before I get the chance to tell it to her myself, she can still come here and read about it. This is one of those topics.
The German asked me to marry him years ago. It was a sweet proposal. I have never been the sort of girl who dreamed of getting married, so I have never imagined how I'd want a guy to propose to me. Nevertheless, since that time, I've heard a lot of other proposal stories and none of them seemed as perfect as mine.
One spring night, after he had taken me out to a wonderful restaurant, he said he felt like taking a stroll down the riverwalk next to the Mississippi River. After we had been walking for awhile and laughing about God knows what, he said he wanted to stop and sit on a bench for a minute so that we could catch our breath. It was a beautifully clear night sky with the moonlight reflecting off of the surface of the Mississippi River.
As is always the case downtown, we could hear the jazzy blues music playing from some place nearby but we couldn't see anyone from where we were. I started hoping that we wouldn't sit for too long. It's not exactly safe, you know. People have been robbed there before, I'm sure. Besides, my best friend was babysitting VanGoghGirl and though she was one of those people who never seemed to sleep, who seemed just as comfortable receiving visitors at three in the afternoon or three in the morning, I was starting to think that it might be best for us to call it a night and head back to her uptown apartment to pick up the baby.
While we sat and chatted, The German nonchalantly asked me if I was having a good time and, even though my feet were sore from spending so many hours in my stilty heeled shoes, I had to admit that this night had been especially nice. Then he asked me if I could think of anything that might make the night even better. He always went out of his way to make sure that I was happy so this question didn't seem odd to me at all and I happily replied that there was nothing that could top the amount of fun we were having that night.
Suddenly he got up from the bench and knelt down on one knee. My immediate thought was that he was going to ruin his pants, so I started to tell him that he shouldn't do that but then he started to reach out for my hand and I suddenly realized what he was really doing. I, being the complete weirdo that I am, began to panic. I got up and started to protest. In fact, I actually tried to run away but I didn't get far because of those darn heels. He grabbed my hand and said "bint, I've figured out that I can't live without you so I need to have you in my life forever. bint alshamsa will you please marry me?" Then he went in his pocket and pulled out a pretty purple box--it's my favorite color--and began to open it with his thumb. He was using one hand to hold onto me because I was still pulling away and trying to make a mad dash to lord knows where but any place other than there.
I think that most people already have a pretty good idea of whether they'd say yes or no when the love of their life asks for their hand in marriage. So you'd think that I would have just said, "Yes!" Instead, I just felt really, really startled and anxious. I couldn't run so I just turned my head away from him. He kept talking to me saying, "bint, please look at me for a minute. Please!" I turned to him a little bit and started explaining to him that he didn't know what he was doing and that this wasn't really what he wanted but he kept saying that I make him happier than he's ever been and that he didn't want to go back to the way his life was before I came along. So, I started to relax a little bit and the fight or flight response wore off a bit. Hearing him tell me why he knew that this was what he wanted calmed me down and convinced me that he really wasn't just asking me without having given it enough thought.
I sat back down on the bench and took a long look at his face. He was holding the box down by then while he spoke to me. I hadn't even seen the inside of it yet. I asked, "Can I see what you have there?" and he held it up towards me again. Inside of the purple box was a gorgeous heart-shaped diamond solitaire ring. It was the prettiest ring I'd ever seen in my life.
He took the ring out of the box and asked me again. This time I said "Yes."