Heather and Joe

Posted Monday, November 17, 2008 10:14 AM

I had been planning to ask Heather to marry me for about a month. I finally had enough money to buy a ring, which happened to coincide with my starting to work at a law firm. I didn't have an elaborate proposal scheme -- in fact, I had no plan at all. All I knew was that I wanted the proposal to be a surprise.

Once I had the diamond picked out, it had to be mounted and shipped to me. Because I was busy at work, and because I didn't want Heather getting any suspicious packages while she was at my apartment, I had the finished ring shipped to my office. The ring was supposed to be delivered on Friday, September 21, the day that I intended to propose.

I got a confirmation from UPS telling me that the ring arrived at 9:45 a.m., and I waited anxiously for it to be brought to my office by the messengers. No one had bothered to tell me and I hadn't yet learned that the messengers don't deliver personal packages until after 3 p.m. Needless to say, after about an hour, I started to have a panic attack because I thought that the ring had been lost, or worse. I had my secretary harass the people in the mailroom for several hours. I was apoplectic by the time it arrived in my mailbox.

The box that the ring came in was larger than I had expected and didn't fit easily in my pocket. Without a jacket, the bulge that the box made was quite noticeable, but I didn't trust myself not to lose the ring if I carried it loose in my pocket. Not wanting to ruin the surprise, I called Heather and told her that I had to work a little later than I had expected and that I wouldn't have time to change if we were to make our reservations. I kept my jacket on through the entire dinner to keep the ring safely concealed.

I went into dinner expecting to propose at the restaurant, which is on the corner of Amsterdam Ave. and 77th Street, just south of the American Museum of Natural History's campus. Although dinner was excellent, it didn't feel right proposing in the restaurant. We were seated at a less-than-desirable table, stuffed in the corner, with full view of the restroom. It was not the ambience girls dream about when they're picturing their engagement in their heads. Moreover, there was a large, raucous party at the table next to us, and I didn't want to have my moment overshadowed by their noise or to attract their attention. Even during dessert, after the table next to us had cleared out, I was dissuaded from dropping down on one knee in the awkward little corner of the restaurant that fate had landed us in.

Having no plan of attack, I looked around, desperately, for a good place to propose after dinner. In front of the restaurant wouldn't do, because, at the time, the front was obscured by scaffolding.

I told Heather that I wasn't ready to go home yet and that I wanted to take a walk. Instinctively, I headed toward Central Park, not because I remembered that that the museum was in that direction, but because earlier in the week, I had envisioned proposing there. That idea was scrapped when the weather report said that it was supposed to pour all weekend.
 
As we walked, I was careful not to let Heather's hand brush against my right leg, where I had the ring box stuffed in the front-side pocket of my pants. I worried that she would discover the ring -- or at least the box -- and somehow guess my intentions, ruining the surprise. I even worried that she would notice that I wasn't, as was my habit, swinging her hand along with mine, and patting it on my hip.  In my head, all of these details mattered.  
 
Lost in thought, and concentrating on not letting her find the box, I rambled in a way that would have made Aunt Gertrude proud. But as we came to the museum, my stream of consciousness became focused, and I started talking about the first trip that Heather made to New York, just after Christmas of my second year of law school. I remembered our trip to the museum, which we happened to be walking in front of, and how it was on that trip that I realized how important she was, how much I felt that Heather "got me," and that I thought we could manage the relationship over the long term despite the geographic distance between us. I remembered one perfect moment where we were in the museum, resting our feet on a bench in the shadow of what I think was the fossilized remains of a giant sloth. The snow falling outside had turned to whiteout conditions. As we sat staring out the window, Heather put her head on my shoulder, and I was happy.

By the time I finished recounting that memory to Heather, I was already on my knees and had the ring box in my hands. The actual proposal was hurried; I was more nervous than I expected. I was only on my knee briefly -- or maybe it only seemed quick -- because I immediately stood up, thankfully in time to catch Heather as she stumbled on the steps. She said yes. And for 30 seconds, it was a beautiful moment in time. No one else was around; no cars were on the street. Heather put her head on my shoulder, and, as before, I was happy. I still am.

Note -- The perfect moment only lasted about 35 seconds, before our tranquility was promptly shattered by a girl on her cell phone talking loudly about her toilet.