You're Sure?! {or, part VI}

I failed to mention in my prior posts that I had another trip out to SF planned well in advance. If you're close with my family, and you're going to be somewhere pretty cool for a little while, you can bet my mom will plan a ten-day vacation around it.

So I spent two or so weeks on my own again in New York: rejuvenated, happy, selling top notch dance shoes, visiting home and droning on to anyone who would listen- Marc's friends included- about how ready I was to be engaged to Marc. I felt.... crazy.

I met my fam in Newark and flew to SF.  Marc's family was there the week before us, and we had one weekend of overlap. Marc thought we should go to a tourist spot on Friday afternoon, and he'd cut his last day at the firm in half for love of family. Or so that was how I interpreted it.

Instead he clarified over cell that he thought he and I could walk up to Coit Tower from his office alone. So we could actually hang out and see each other and talk before the mayhem of the 2-family weekend ensued. My folks dropped me off at his office, and the long, uphill battle began.

{our destination}

First, I had to pee about 5 minutes in to the 20-30 minute trek. Second, I think it's fair to say I was a little jet-lagged and irritable from our journey. Third, Marc tried to find me a bathroom in a maze of an indie bookstore where, of course, there is no public bathroom. Fourth, Marc thought it was a brilliant time to bring up (again- I may not have mentioned that he's always had a thing for this city) that he really likes the SF office and the people and wants to stay here- what do I think.

Since I wasn't feeling particularly polite, I told him we'd had this conversation and the answer was still no. We'd already moved back and forth across the country and I didn't want to again any time soon. And- here's the good part- why would I move across the country for him to a city that has nothing for me (but it's a great place-don't get me wrong) when I couldn't even get a commitment from him. I didn't even know if he's in it for the long haul! He reiterated that he wasn't ready, and I huffed up the hills in silence (with a brief interlude at a burrito place for the loo and a diet coke).

By the time we reached Coit Tower, I had lighted up a bit. We shared a giggle or two over the murals on the walls on the gift shop level, and we enjoyed the 360-degree views at the top. All the while, I was trying to see myself in this sprawling city where my other half "kinda" wants to be.  I finally relaxed and walked over to Marc at a different window for a hug and a "ready yet?"

{Marc contemplating the city he loves more than me}

 I'm pretty sure I looked out for my last glimpse of the view, and when I looked back at Marc, he was holding [the] ring between his fingers and said something like:

"I didn't think there'd be this many people up here, or I'd get on one knee... will you marry me?"

And I reacted something like:

"What? Wait, really? Um, yes! Wait, that's my Grandmom's ring, right?" (more on that later), I guess I put the ring on, then, "You're not just asking because I forced you to, right?" (I can't help but feel guilty when I get what I want. I need a therapist). I remember pushing him somewhere in there, on the shoulder, and I remember wanting to scream or something, but the whole scene attracted literally NO attention from the surrounding crowd of mostly German tourists. We didn't even asked anyone to take a picture of us.

Marc explained that he'd been throwing me off and that he'd planned to ask me all summer. Um, thanks!! hehe. I must have half floated home because I hardly remember the walk back with the same clarity as the walk there. We stopped at his folks' hotel to tell them because he hadn't given them a heads up about the proposal. Marc's dad was getting back from a run and his mom was taking a nap.

Meanwhile, my parents were eagerly awaiting our return with gifts and stories of my dad hiding the ring from me in his pocket and through airport security.  I waited several days to tell anyone, and I only called a couple people. My Godparents, my maid-of-honor-to-be Laura, I don't remember who else (sorry). I was looking forward to the cocoon of vacation- it wasn't really sinking in yet.

Both families joined up for dinner to celebrate- Marc made a reservation at a great little Italian place in North Beach, and I dragged everyone out after for my new favorite gelato place that I'd discovered on my previous eat-pray-love-esque solo travels.

{one of our many pretty couple shots from the week}

To the engaged or married- was your proposal story what you expected? Were any of you as crazypants as me from the waiting or as guilty of pressuring your man?