How to Propose to the Right Man

He's the dream we all dream of. He's your dad only better and younger and just so breathtakingly handsome. You see him and the world stops. You forget to breathe almost. You admire the way his mind works. Your best friends all think he's quite a catch. In fact he dated a friend of a friend of yours whose also getting married soon. Bridesmaids all around. Surrounding each other in circles of friendship and flowers and champagne and beaches and grand hotel ballrooms and all things sugar and spice. Remembering h ow we all dressed together for those nights out long ago. Wearing each others clothes. Dancing with each others' crushes. Drinking from kegs. Big kegs at frat parties. And on the lawns when we were too young to drink out on the town. Mimosas at Brunch and junk we snuck out of our parents' liquour cabinets. Ah, those were the nights and days we'll always have and always treasure.

Also, his name is Joshua. No getting around him. So tall and elegant like a Ken doll but living and breathing. He drinks but that's OK. So do you. Endless kegs of beer. Endless warm humid springs that turn to bright summer nights/ Love everlasting. Love that blinds you. Love that makes you heart sing in Italian even though you are not Italian and neither is he. You are just two southern city slickers who are lost in each others brown eyes. Chocolate Brown a wee bit darker than amaretto. There isn't anything you wouldn't give, even your whole sweet young life to save Him. It's such a miracle love like this.

Probably the best thing about Josh is that you met on a trip abroad. Just two young students exploring a foreign land. Different schools, different friends different lives: but you shared a curiosity about the wider world. You got to try new foods and new customs and new words from a foreign tongue. You met people from his tribe and your tribe which was to the south. You traveled unsafe roads and shopped in town and ran when the soldiers said run. You took cabs for hours to the capital and other big cities. You made love on the beach and rode wild horses. And ate food so hot and spicy it burned going down and for days after. You returned to the states and realized it had to end.

But the long distance between you wasn't so far it seemed. And you kept in touch a little bit. A postcard here or there. And gradually you fell back into you other lives. The real lives. Where men and women and parents said you should be. Commitments intervened. But there was always a sense that someone was missing. Something had changed. Because love, of course, changes everything.

So, when you see him ten years later.: Don't wait. Walk right up to him and tell him the truth. That you missed him terribly and that nobody else you ever loved since then was worth a damn compared to those eight weeks you shared. Write down your number and walk away. I guarantee he'll call. Maybe not right away but he will call and you will meet and he'll see that you are just as beautiful as you were then. Maybe even more. Rounder and warmer and earnest.. He'll remember a little more slowly, but he'll remember. And THIS time, he'll stay.