The Engagement

These are the times we live in - nothing stays hidden anymore. Everything tracks us, listens to us, and keeps an eye on us. Sometimes it even reads our thoughts and spits out ads guided by those very thoughts. So the moment Facebook and Instagram started tempting me with jewellery, I knew something was up. Something was brewing. In other words  - something was going on.

---

The first attempt was supposed to happen during our January trip to Scotland. On top of a mountain, surrounded by forest -  you know, our way. But the plan failed for two main reasons.

Reason number one - and quite an important one, you’ll agree -  was the lack of a ring. It turned out that the representatives of Diamond Something-or-Other operate in a different time-semantic zone, and the phrase “next-day delivery” actually meant delivery after four weeks.

The next convenient love-themed date was Valentine’s Day. A bit cliché, some might say. But not at all.

We started the day with a visit to Tranquil Waters  -  a centre of silence, meditation, and that sort of thing. We ended up there thanks to a voucher for so-called float therapy, which I bought myself -  not that anyone forced me. For those unfamiliar with the term: during float therapy a person climbs into a capsule straight out of Sexmission, filled with salt water. You float in complete silence and darkness to cut off all your senses and enter a state of deep relaxation. Well, Dan certainly entered that state. After an hour he came out like a brand-new man. I, on the other hand - not quite.

About 13 seconds after the Egyptian darkness swallowed me inside that thing, I started frantically searching for the light switch. But no luck whatsoever. I don’t know where I am, I can’t see the tip of my nose, and I can’t for the life of me open this bloody thing. My panic level rises in direct proportion to the passing seconds and the circles my body is making inside this oversized litter tray. I’m convinced I’m stuck in this brine forever, and after an hour they’ll fish me out like a pickled cucumber from a jar.

Luckily, while pressing everything in sight, I must have hit the alarm button. After a period that felt like eternity but in reality turned out to be three minutes, the dome slowly began to rise - and before my eyes appeared Dan. And before his eyes there was me - curled into my own knee, bathed in blue light, and in a nearly catatonic state.

“Everything okay?”

“No… not really. I don’t think this is for me.”

And yes, it definitely was not for me. Still covered in salt like meat marinating for preserves, I started sobbing like a three-year-old who got a pancake cut into strips when it was supposed to be triangles. Something had clearly awakened inside me - maybe fears from a previous life suggesting that darkness and water are a big no-no, especially in confinement.

A shower and half an hour in the sauna more or less put me back together, and we left the place -  me with stiff, salt-crusted strands of hair, and Dan with a slight concern that the day of the proposal had just begun with a panic attack.

What else could possibly happen?

As it was Valentine’s Day we had booked a night and dinner at Eastwood Hall, which on its website advertised a so-called “wellness walk” through 28 acres of gardens and woodland. Miraculously, the English weather decided to take a day off and let the sun have a say, so the walk seemed like the perfect proposal opportunity.

On the way to the hotel we decided to grab something to eat, because water - even salty water - makes you hungry. Especially when seasoned with a panic attack. Guided by excellent Google reviews, we ended up at Julie’s Tea Rooms. The food was indeed excellent, but the time management - dear Lord. We waited a good 45 minutes for a sandwich and toast, which, if you have a proposal scheduled before dinner, is rather inconvenient. I didn’t help much either when I announced that I was emotionally exhausted and might take a little nap.

A nap? Woman, I’m supposed to drop to one knee here, promise eternal love, and you’re going to sleep?

About an hour later, finally fed, we arrive at the hotel. Dinner voucher and Prosecco? Check. Rose petals on the bed? Check. Time to celebrate - or, alternatively, to have that nap before dinner.

But no.

Dan won’t let it go - wellness walk this, wellness walk that. He even found a map with the path marked on it. So I agree - why fight it, it’s Valentine’s Day after all, and maybe the fresh air will chase the morning panic attack out of my head.

The only problem is that the further we walk, the more those 28 acres of gardens and woodland turn out to be… basically a field/lawn. And Dan’s plans for a romantic proposal surrounded by greenery sink deeper and deeper into the omnipresent mud. The promise of a secluded spot eventually materialises in the form of a sad moss-covered bench next to something that was supposed to be a pond but turns out to be a puddle.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be. This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” I hear Dan muttering under his breath, while I remain completely oblivious to what he means.

We have about an hour left before dinner. A proposal in the restaurant is out of the question - not our style -  we can applaud ourselves, thank you very much. So we go back to the hotel room. Now or never.

Except that “now” happens to be without trousers, because our wellness walk was so muddy that I completely mucked up my trousers. They are hanging on a chair, I’m standing there in my underwear putting the kettle on for tea, and Dan decides to ask one of the most important questions of his life - and of our life together.

“I don’t know if what I’m about to say will make you feel any better.”

Thanks to my life experience, my mind immediately drifts into dark clouds - either he’s breaking up with me or someone has died. I’m mentally preparing for a flood of tears rather than laughter when Dan pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and starts reading:

Marta 

How can I ever put into words 

What I want to say 

The emotion, the want, the hope 

They swirl and play 

Okay, maybe nobody’s dying after all. Phew. I breathe out with relief. Tears are already gathering in my eyes, though for entirely different reasons than I expected.

And then… the kettle starts boiling.

Judging by the noise it’s making, it might as well be launching into space - completely drowning out Dan.

"For heaven’s sake, now the kettle too. Somebody turn that thing off."

After an uneven battle with Russell Hobbs, he continues:

Tranquility and desire,

Respect and dreams

A quiet knowing,

An unbreakable team

My energy, my love, my everything 

It’s yours

I’ll be by your side always

I need nothing more

I cannot wait to see what our future will bring

So I’ll seal my commitment to you

With this kiss

and this ring

He pulls the ring from his pocket. Gets down on one knee. A moment of silence.

“I know you’re not wearing any trousers, but… will you marry me?”

At that moment we both burst out laughing and crying at the same time, and I quickly reply:

“Of course! I’d marry you even with a Haribo ring!”

****

So that’s that. There's no engagement photoshoot for obvious reasons. And now we have a few months ahead of us to figure out how not to spend a total fortune on a wedding, while waiting for our “yes, I do” and the rest of our lives together.

I also promise that during the ceremony I will try to wear appropriate outer garments.