Tom and I are in Ubud, Bali staying in a beautiful villa surrounded by rice paddies, rivers and jungle. Our backyard looks out over a waterfall. It’s pretty amazing. Tom was very insistent that we stay somewhere nicer than anywhere else we have stayed for our anniversary.
Our first morning here we had an incredible breakfast delivered to the table in the back of the villa that is set over the river and faces aforementioned waterfall. It was the most relaxing way ever to start our anniversary!
We sat back enjoying our coffee with the ruins of our poached eggs, cheeses, smoked meats and salmon, fruit and croissants littered around us and started talking about our plans for the day.
All of a sudden Tom was standing and moving his chair away while looking at my face. It seemed all together too purposeful; I could practically smell the adrenaline coming off him in waves. “Huh?” It was a bit incongruous to our relaxed post breakfast state.
He got down on one knee. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I still had no idea what was happening. He took my hand with one of his hands and reached into his pocket with the other. I think girls in movies usually look prettily surprised when they are proposed to. I was tousled from sleep and wearing a robe with probably the most ape-like expression of incredulity I have ever had on my face. I gotta say – I don’t think it was pretty. Ignoring my wrinkled up forehead, furrowed brows and slack-jawed mouth Tom said some very lovely things that ended with “will you marry me?” and pulled a ring out of his pocket.
This is the part where the girls always nod wordlessly with beautiful glistening eyes as their beau slips a ring on their ready finger.
I just stared. I think I may have said “what?! really? like, but really?…..really?”
He started kissing me (probably just trying to get me to close my mouth which was still acting as a fly catcher) and started to put the ring on my finger.
It took me a few more “reallys?” but I eventually got to the “Yes.”
He told me later that by the time I’d said “yes” he thought – “Oh, is she still on that part?, I thought we’d moved past that.”
As I’m sure you can imagine Tom and I spend a lot of time together. Like a whole lot. There have been maybe a total of 20 waking hours spent apart over this past year. So that leaves a big question.
Where did he get a ring?!
Well this is Tom we are talking about- right? So of course when we were in Bulgaria in the snow and I was inside by the fire thinking that Tom was outside chopping wood, he was actually making a ring from a Bulgarian coin or “stotinki” as they call it there. He then spent the 6 minutes he got away from me in Istanbul to “go to the ATM” sprinting to a hardware store to get sand paper to polish it, and then spent the 90 minutes he had in Thailand between dropping me off and picking me up at a yoga class to get a tuk tuk driver to take him to hardware stores looking for a finer sandpaper to polish it some more. All of that interspersed with furtive middle of the night polishing activities while I slept.
I’m a lucky lady.
We celebrated that evening by going to dinner at Mozaic, one of New York Time’s “Best Restaurants in the World” and toasted our engagement, our future and lots of other things because each of the six courses was paired with a glass of wine. By the end of the night I think we were toasting the napkins, or the geckos or something.
Now I am a bit hesitant to write this but it is so ridiculous I just have to share it. We stumbled from the golf cart that Samaya (where are staying) uses to transport the guests to their private villas into said villa, and immediately stripped down to jump into our pool. It was close to midnight (it had been a long dinner) and we were both on the other side of tipsy. I back floated on the water to be able to look up at the stars while holding Tom’s hand and a shooting star zipped by over head. I am not making this stuff up. For realz. I know it’s the cheesiest thing ever, but I can’t help that it happened. I’m just reporting the facts even if they negatively affect my street cred.