Two years ago, I met the man who would become my husband. Husband! I am not used to using that word, and am having fun playing around with fiancé. Let me back up.
My boyfriend of four years and I had just decided to part ways in August 2011, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled to move back into my childhood home. My parents had lived in their post-war Upper West Side apartment since the 1970s, and I’d known everyone who lived there since I was a little kid. Or so I thought.
Life was a little surreal back then: I was taking pre-med classes for a physical therapy PhD, but other than that was mostly hanging out at home and going out with friends on the weekends. One evening, I was coming home after a biology lecture and shared an elevator with a couple I didn’t know and, more importantly, a handsome guy with a yellow lab and wearing Vibrams barefoot shoes. This made no sense, because the only people who have historically lived in our building are eccentric Upper West Siders (myself included) and younger families. So who was this? After the couple got out of the elevator, I pointed to the guy’s shoes, and asked if they “worked.” (At the time, I was still running almost every day, and had heard that barefoot running could help prevent injuries.) He mumbled something without making eye contact, and I said goodbye when I got off at my floor. There was only one floor higher than ours, and two apartments per floor, so I figured he must live in the apartment directly above ours that often had sub-letters.
A couple days later, I was heading out the door for class in the morning and noticed a Post-It affixed to the front door. ”Hey, it’s the guy from upstairs with the yellow lab and crazy running shoes. Want to go for a run sometime? Let me know, I’m in apartment ____” it said. After I finished reading it, my mom popped her head into the hallway to say that she, too, had read the note. (Just a disclaimer: living at home in your 20s can be a very awkard experience!) I was a little intimidated to run with someone else, let alone a good-looking guy I had just met! I also didn’t really want to put my own Post-It on the door of the apartment he lived in- people I had known since childhood. A couple days later, I saw him in the elevator again, explained I didn’t want to run, but that maybe we could get coffee. We did- as friends- but neither of us talked about it being anything more.
A few days later, B invited me to lunch with his colleague (they’re both engineers), and over Ethiopian food, joked about hooking up a “telephone” pully with tubes and funnels, so that we could talk on the “phone” strung between our two windows. Take note: we lived on the 14th and 15th floors in Manhattan, not in a suburban neighborhood where this kind of thing would be a little easier to pull off! Nevertheless, days later, B came downstairs with pneumatic tubes and pink string. The “telephone” didn’t work, but he rigged up a pully system using the string and a jumbo clip. This way, he could send me private messages without them having to go through my parents’ front door. We still weren’t even dating at this point, so I didn’t really know what to think!
On November 12, B suggested we go out with some of his friends and watch the Alabama football game. Because we weren’t dating, the idea of a group hang with a bunch of people didn’t sound entirely appealing to me, so B suggested a more intimate setting: a Mexican hot chocolate date at a nearby taqueria. Well… that did turn out to be a “date,” and it went very well! We continued to send each other Post-Its through our old-school pully, and because we lived so close to each other, spent more and more time together.
You guys know the rest: we moved in together last December, and have had an absolute blast ever since.
Last week, my parents told me they would be hosting a surprise party for our friends, George and Judy, to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary. (This made complete sense, because George and Judy are very, very close family… my parents threw them a surprise party after their wedding, they were the first to visit me in the hospital after I was born, etc., etc.) My mom gave me status updates about those coming in from out of town, and I even sent her shopping suggestions for one of the guest’s teenage daughters! I had a study date with a friend on Saturday afternoon, so my parents told me to get to their apartment by 6 PM before George and Judy arrived. B told me he had secret Christmas shopping plans and would meet me there, but that he planned to dress up a bit. Because we were only going to my parents’ place, I told him he could keep his attire casual; I had been wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt at the time, but I changed into something a little nicer before I left . I hustled uptown, calling my dad after I got out of the subway to make sure I wouldn’t arrive late and spoil George and Judy’s surprise. ”Is B there yet?” I asked. ”I don’t know. Take your time. Bye,” my dad replied, hanging up before I had a chance to say anything else.
As I got close to my parents’ building, my heart started beating really fast. It felt like something else might have been going on, but I attributed it to anxiety about being late and ruining George and Judy’s surprise party. I practically ran into the building and rode the elevator up to our floor. When I got out, B was standing there in a brand new suit. In a sort of out-of-body experience, I noticed that his phone was taped to the door; underneath, a Post-It with “Will you marry me?” written on it. I don’t actually remember all the details of what happened next, but what I’ve pieced together is that B said, “This is where it all began, and this is where I want it to continue.” Then he got down on one knee and said, “Katie, will you marry me?”
I started crying, and I think- I hope!- I said “Yes!” and B put a beautiful ring on my finger. It incorporates old + new: his family’s heirlooms, with new stones he picked out.
We went into the apartment, and I looked around for George and Judy’s surprise party guests. ”Katie… there is no party! There’s no one else here.” I couldn’t process the fact that the party had been a clever ruse, and asked about George and Judy’s whereabouts for several minutes. They were actually in Pennsylvania! I was stunned… my face says it all.
We called my parents, who had escaped out the back staircase (where B and I used to meet in secret in the early days of our courtship!) and were hiding downstairs by the trash.
My parents made us celebratory reservations for dinner at ‘Cesca, which was delicious! We were almost too excited to eat. After dinner, we walked through flurries of snow to Magnolia bakery, where we sipped hot chocolate and talked excitedly about our future.
Three days later, it still feels like walking on a cloud. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and am so happy to be sharing my life with this man. EEEEE!!!!!!
