January 12, 2013
Daryn had some great things brewing in the job arena, and
after a lot of hard work wanted to celebrate with a nice dinner. We had 5:30 dinner reservations (insert
Buckeye Card or Early Bird Special pun) at Lolita in Tremont. Initially, I thought this was odd as Lolita
was our anniversary spot. Daryn and I
had our first one-on-one date here September 17th, 2009 exactly one
day after my birthday, and two days after his.
It had been exciting not only because it was a first date, but it was also
a celebration birthdays.
After enjoying the mouth-watering duck confit we had a drink at the bar and nothing was out of the ordinary. My
suspicions of the restaurant choice had faded away with my second glass of
sauvignon blanc. The plan was to meet up
with another couple to see a 10pm comedy show.
Obviously we had time to kill, so we were going to to swing downtown closer
to the show, and have another drink.
But the first thing on the agenda: Daryn needed floss.
Now, this is where I make a point of telling you about his
weird floss habits.
God bless a man who has good oral hygiene. Daryn flosses after almost every meal, and
when he gets the urge it’s an itch he MUST scratch. But after he is done with the floss he has a
habit of leaving it everywhere… On the sink, in his pockets, on the living room
table, in the junk drawer. Needless to
say, it drives me up a wall, but I pick and choose my battles so I only mildly
badgered him from time to time. I ran
out of the floss I carried in my purse (waffle flavored… a gift from my sister
one Christmas) so we needed to stop at the store. Since we were heading downtown we pulled into
the Constantino’s Market parking lot and I waited in the car while he ran
inside. I then proceeded to post an
angry Facebook status about the lameness of all the sob stories, accompanied by
a generic photo, that were circulating on my feed. (This will be a funny point later in the
story.)
After he got in the car he mentioned how he read on
Cleveland.com that there was a new statue / monument being built at the
Cleveland Browns stadium for the new owner as a sort of “Welcome to Cleveland’
thing. As I said, I was a few glasses of wine in and probably really easy to convince, so I agreed to us swinging by the stadium
to check it out. He pulled around and
parked on the street in front of the main back entrance.
“Come on let’s go look” he said. “Wait, you want me to get out and go up
there?” I wasn’t interested. “Yeah, just come on you’ll be the first of
your friends to see it… please come up there with me” he begged. “Alright fine."
On a side note, if you’re familiar with Cleveland weather
you understand that it can be 19 degrees one day and 60 the next. This night just happened to be one of those
unseasonably warm nights, so getting out of the car and climbing up a few
flights of stairs in a dress in the middle of January wasn’t too big of a deal.
Nearing the top step I started
getting a feeling as if something was off.
I started to realize that I wasn’t going to see a statue at the top of
those stairs, and smiled with the same anticipation you get that moment before
you know you’re going to be tickled and there is nothing you can do to stop
it.
Once at the top, Daryn turns to me and admits there is no
statue. The reason he brought me to the
Browns stadium is because it was the site of where we spent our first day
together on a double date with the couple who introduced us. It was the home opener on September 13th, just two days before his birthday, three before
mine, and four before our first “official” date at Lolita.
I remember him getting down on one knee. I remember him reaching into his coat pocket
and producing a grey linen box. I
remember him having trouble opening the box and handing it to me saying, “You
do it”. I remember him asking me to
marry him. I remember a sick mixture of
delirious laughs with sobs of job. I
remember shaking, and tears rolling down my face. I remember putting the most beautiful rosecut
diamond ring on my finger.
My only stipulation for Daryn to propose to me was that he
had to make me cry. A ring wasn’t even
part of that stipulation, but I wanted him to do something so romantic and
sweet that I couldn't help but bawl like a small child. So
after he asked, he stood up and announced he was going to sing for me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me close, and
we slow danced as he sang “Loving You” by Elvis. I can’t remember the words, but I remember
continuing my ridiculous cry/laugh noises as he sang softly in my ear. And yes, he’s a good singer so it was
beautiful.
After we were done, I realized I didn’t even say the words
he wanted to hear, so I screamed “Oh my gosh YES! I forgot to say YES!”
The night was not over.
He said we had 8:15 reservations at YOLO (the Battery Park Wine Bar) for a little
champagne toast. YOLO was a spot we both
loved and came up in conversation as a place that would be great for our
wedding reception one day. It all came
full circle.
As soon as we got in the car, I took the floss he just
purchased and started wrapping it around the back of the ring. He was too nervous to get it sized, so it was
almost two sizes too big. The floss
wasn’t enough, so I rummaged in my purse and found a ribbon from a present I
received from a good friend before Christmas.
Yes, I was carrying it around for almost a month because I was too lazy
to clean out my purse. I tied a big knot,
cut the end with a Swiss Army knife, and ended with a strategic yet ghetto jimmy-rigged ball
of mess on the inside of my ring finger.
It worked.
When we arrived at YOLO, I saw two girls
with their backs to us at the bar and I thought, “That one girl looks like
Shannon from behind with that curly red hair”.
We round the corner, and there were about 15 friends and family members who
cheered for us when we came into view. I
was BLOWN away and so extremely honored and excited to see so many of our loved
ones who came to celebrate with us.
Turns out, the girl at the bar who looked like Shannon from behind ,WAS
in fact Shannon.
My girl friends were giddy with anticipation the
whole time, wondering if he had proposed yet while they waited our
arrival. They thought it would be wise
to check my Facebook status in case I made the announcement right after it
happened, but all they saw was a bitter rant about sob stories. “No, I don’t think he’s done it yet.”
Lots of tears, lots of cheers. Lots of story-telling, lots of hugs and kisses.
It was the perfect end to a wonderfully executed evening courtesy of my now
fiancé.
At the end of the night there were three of us left: Daryn, myself, and my brother Tom. At Christmas, my mother passed on my father’s
wedding ring to him and since it was too small for any finger but his pinky, he
was wearing it on his necklace. He took
the ring off and handed it to me saying that it makes more sense for me to have
it sized down to fit my fingers than it was for him to have it adjusted to fit
his. I grabbed my brother and hugged him
tight. It was such a heart-warming
gesture and I was filled with so much gratitude.
On the way home I sat in the car and looked at my new ring
on my left hand, and my father’s wedding band on my right thumb and started
crying. The night could NOT have been
more perfect if I had tried to plan it out in my head.
Now, I probably should’ve turned down that last glass of
wine. It’s safe to say I celebrated a
little too hard, and felt like I went to a bat fight without my bat when I woke
up the next day. It was all worth it, so
I can forgive myself.
I’ve known for a while that I was going to marry Daryn. He’s my best friend and I don’t know life
without him. We’ve been thought a lot in
the past few years, so we are both ready to start a new chapter and look forward. I want to thank everyone
who was a part of that night from the bottom of my heart, and to those (my
sister) who could not make it because of that nasty flu bug that was sweeping
the nation.
And thank you to the love of my life for making me the
happiest woman in the world.
