The Vault and the Fishing Net

Patrick proposed to me twice. The first time, was a sunny and warm Saturday morning in January. We were sitting on some rocks at the edge of Ladybird Lake in Austin. When I turned to him after watching Bender swim out for a fetch, he had a pretty box in his hand. He said, "Ya wanna get married?" He looked so gentle and sincere. I melted. I said, "I'm melting. Of course I do, sweetie." (or something like that) Then Bender shook water all over us and Isabel smelled the shiny rock, approving. I found out that Patrick thinks my fingers are very skinny. This man researched rings, ordered mine and proposed, without consulting a soul. When I learned that he'd gone through the ring process completely on his own, I took note of our truly different approaches. This would be important to remember for a successful marriage to him. If Patrick were a vault, I'd be a fishing net. One holds everything super tight unless deliberately opened, and one holds big things, but lets lots of little things flow in and out.

The ring looked very pretty sitting above my knuckle, but would probably fall off easily. So, we celebrated our decision to marry with tight hugs and kisses, lots of knowing looks, cheesy smiles and a stand-in ring. The two carat amber ring from my costume jewelry collection did the trick of keeping men from approaching me (finally!). I had my round cut diamond with a halo and platinum band for two days and gazed fondly at it in its box often. In the process of ordering a resize, Patrick announced that this was my chance to get exactly the ring I wanted. I felt funny about altering the solitary decision he had made. In my fishing net style, I sought advice. Married women advised me to get over being sentimental and choose the one I wanted on my finger for the next twenty years.

The new ring is a hybrid of Patrick's heartfelt choice and my little girl fantasies. He stuck with a round cut, haloed diamond and I added tiny pave diamonds to the band. Appropriately, the very first decision made surrounding our marriage was a joint one.

The change in the band delayed shipment of the ring two weeks. We would be moving from Austin to a Lake Travis house to Denver, with unreliable mailing addresses, which delayed its arrival even more. We were fearful the ring would be lost in transit. Patiently and painfully, I waited for the ring I will look at for the rest of my life. A whole month. It arrived just today, the day after Valentine's Day.

Patrick's second proposal also took place in the morning, over coffee. The Fed Ex man trudged through the crunchy snow at our vacation rental in Denver as I unsuccessfully tried to hold back squeals. Our dogs sounded the attack barks reserved for mailmen, UPS and Fed Ex guys (even when they're not in uniform- true story). Patrick was on an important call so I quieted the dogs, cleaned myself up and put some makeup on. I wanted him to see me as his beautiful bride, not a bed-headed, sleepy-eyed girl in sweats and slippers.

"There's a package for you!" I announced when he FINALLY got off the phone. I gave him the space to open it. He pretended it was the wrong one. My excitement was unphased by the joke I fully expected. When he walked over to me, I was startled again by that melting feeling I got by the lake. It's like butterflies swimming through molasses in my tummy. And a sweet and juicy peach swelling in my throat. And smiling tears welling up my eyes. With his messy and tall morning hair and his soft blue eyes, he got down on one knee. There's something about the man you love taking a pleading position while looking into your eyes. "Babe, will you marry me?"

Bender and Isabel were impressed with his position on the floor as well, and ran around us barking. For the last few months, Bender's finally been displaying signs of puberty. He only humps Patrick and me, and only when we're hugging and kissing each other or doing something that takes us to his level. Since we were hugging and kissing while Patrick kneeled, 85 pound Bender took turns jumping us both.

The ring fits perfectly and we found as much joy in our decision to marry as the first time he proposed. I think we should do it every month. And just so you know, I'm already making the compromises so important to a successful marriage. This story was told in a combination of our vault and fishing net styles of sharing information. Our new, shared container takes some effort to open, holds beautiful things secure, but closes quickly before anything too valuable escapes. Kinda like a box that holds a diamond ring.

This picture makes it bling!