I Never Do What I'm Supposed to Do

The morning started with the usual phone call on my way to work. It’s the best part of my mornings and I’d missed him for the past couple of days, since he’d been away from home. Nikola seemed a little anxious, but because of who he is, that’s not really uncommon. He’d forgotten the pocket square to wear with his suit. He seemed a little distraught over the concept. It seemed like a silly thing to me, but he always seems to have his reasons. He was late picking Jean up and it took him twenty minutes to get out the door because that’s what happens when he’s anxious. I was just excited to see him and happy that I would be on my way to him soon. We were going to relive the concert where we met a year ago. Same artist, same opener, same venue, same time of year. It was a little like magic.

I had a sneaking suspicion of what was to come. He never gave anything away, but I tell myself that I know him pretty well, and that his heart and my heart are made from the same stuff. So I got a manicure for the first time in five years. And I made sure that the dress I wore was both very pretty and very comfortable because you never know where you’ll end up sitting down before the night is over. I’d told my Mama, and my best friends what I thought was about to happen. I was met with some incredulity. But I suspected I was right. I know this man.

He checked in throughout the day and by the time I left work to drive to Nashville, he was napping to get ready for the evening. He didn’t nap for very long. It was just another sign that he was particularly anxious. I just credited to his busy schedule and forgetting something and the change in routine. He likes his routines. Traffic was a nightmare and I was a little unsteady myself, but talking to him always soothes my nerves and I’d move mountains to get to him, so a little Chattanooga traffic on a Friday afternoon was a fair compromise.

I got to Nashville just before the doors opened. I wore a long dress and knee-high boots and that perennial olive military jacket, with the enamel orchid pin he gave me, his first gift to me, and I cherish it. I spotted him as I got in line for security, and he was glorious. A modern fitting charcoal suit, crimson tie, and vest in a shade lighter than his suit. Goodness, can he wear that suit. He looked good enough to eat. And when he saw me, he lit up. His whole existence lit up. But he does every time he sees me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that as long as I live. From the first time I met him, when I turned and looked up at him, he lit up. He is beautiful when he smiles that way. It’s no wonder the way women look at him.

As usual, he folded me into his arms in the best hug I can recall. I kissed his cheek and then his mouth and just like every time, being where he is felt like coming home. My arms around his waist under his suit jacket and the warmth of his body and the way he wraps around me feels like the only place I was ever meant to be. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that either.

He asked me if I was ready to go in and yanked me out of my reverie. After my trip, he asked if I’d like a drink and I had a glass of pinot noir for the opening act. We went in and sat down beside each other. I never can seem to stop kissing his face and leaning into him. I held his hand and he pressed his forehead to mine. Then, after being pretty much melted into me, he started fidgeting. I thought I was going to have to cut off his left leg to get him to be still. I asked if he was okay and he said he was. For a time, he was still, but he picked back up. He genuinely did seem okay, so I didn’t press the issue.

Amanda Shires was incredible as always. She played our song and looked like a million bucks in this pair of hot pink, patent leather wedge heels, with, I kid you not, pink flames extending from the wedges. That shoe game though. Todd Snider joined her for a song and made my entire musical experience pretty much for the rest of my life.

During the intermission, where we met at the exact same show, in the exact same place, a year a couple weeks earlier, we stood in the exact same place, with people everywhere. He commented that it was crowded, and our Jean suggested maybe we go out the side door and get some air. I thought he was maybe just overwhelmed by the crowd. I get that way too. I guess that’s part of how he managed to sneak up on me last year. Out we went, where there was a young tree and a handful of smokers. It was quiet and the light was softer and there were far fewer people. I felt much better there than in the crowd in the lobby.

Jean pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of us. I posed as expected. When I turned back, with my hand on his chest, where it seems to want to be, his heart was hammering so hard it worried me for just a split second before I realized what that meant.  That was the moment when all doubt vanished and I knew what was about to happen. And then he reached for his watch pocket and dropped to one knee. In the yellow glow of the street light, he held what I could only tell was an explosion of sparkle and asked very simply “Will you marry me?” I remember my hand covering my mouth, I was still somehow surprised, though I knew with my heart that it would happen just this way, in just this place, on just this day.

The first thing I thought of was that if he was kneeling, I should kneel too. Where he is, I should also be. Then I thought about stepping on the hem of my dress and quite literally snatching it off as I tried to stand back up. That would make for much less flattering pictures of the big event. Then I realized that I wasn’t supposed to kneel. But I could have him stand up as soon as we got the formalities over. I looked down at him, his eyes somehow soft and on fire at the same time, and I said “Of course I will.” Because of course I will. It’s what I’ve wanted since before I even knew I wanted it. “Too early to admit it; I wanted you for mine.” I’ve wanted to be his partner, the answer to his question, his wife, since the thought first occurred to me. There never really was a question in my mind. Only a positive “yes.”

He slid the tiny, sparkling supernova onto the third finger of my left hand and just like I knew it would, it felt like home. That was where it was meant to be, and it fit just like it should. I took both his hands and he stood up and kissed me. Just like every time he kisses me, the whole world disappeared around us. I remember some louder than expected chatter around us, and maybe some clapping, but I’m not sure. All I cared about was my hand on his cheek and our foreheads pressed together and the way he smells, warm and cool and dark at the same time. I remember tears in my eyes. The world swayed and refocused and I remember someone saying behind me “I think they just got engaged.” And we had. Without a moment of nerves or hesitation, we were engaged.

I never thought I’d be the kind to marry. I always said that I didn’t want to “get married” but I did want to find someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Well, I found him. He matches me step for step in every arena. I thought of marriage as something you did not because you aspired to it and you really thought that it would bring you happiness, but because that’s what you were supposed to do as a young woman in the South. Well, I never really had much interest in doing what I was supposed to do anyway.

Jean manages to always capture the  moment perfectly. She got a fantastic picture of him kneeling there in front of me, looking up with hope and fire and admiration and absolute pure love in his eyes. Any moment that I have a doubt, I can look at that picture, that expression and know his heart without hesitation. That look is exactly what he tells me when he says I'm his dream girl. I never thought anyone would look at me that way. But it calms my soul and sets me on fire. I love him madly.

Growing up, marriage was presented as the ultimate act of submission. Marriage meant giving up huge parts of yourself simply so you could be a smaller part of something else. Be smaller. Be less so that you don’t harm a man’s ego and sense of self. And the things I was asked to give up were the best parts of me: my sharp mind and my good decision-making skills, critical and analytical thinking, commitment and conviction, tenacity and my never-ending supply of energy for fighting for what I think is right. “Give that up”, they said, “to be a good woman, a good wife, a real lady. Submit,” they said, “in order to fulfill your God-given role as a human being.” That sounded terrible to me. But then my Nikola came along. He loves my candor, my verve, the tempered steel of my backbone and my diamond mind. All of the things I was told to stop being to be good are the things he loves. And my own happiness breaks my heart in that realization. I had to fight to stay who I was, because in the end, it was him I waited for all along.

And I feel the very same about him. I will support his dreams and trust his judgement. I will listen to his perspective and always take his side. I’ll protect us and turn all of the fight that I’ve always held inside me to conviction that what we are doing together is the right thing.  I’m certain that standing at his side, we can do anything. It may have taken us a bit longer to decide the way we have than it takes so many, but it has proven that you really can miss what you never had, even if you don’t know it. I am exactly where I was always intended to be. It just took me this long to get here. I can’t wait to share my life with this man. My partner, my mate, the love I’ve spent my life dreaming of and never thinking I’d have. I couldn’t have dreamed a better man. And I never thought that I’d deserve him. But he’s my man and I’ll make him my husband soon enough. I can’t wait to be his wife.