Where's the Ring? (Part 4 of a True Love Story)

I had promised myself after the my relationship with Mr. Oh-so-wrong, that I would take a long time getting to know someone before I ever got married.  I wanted to be sure that whoever I chose wouldn't change into Mr. Hyde.  "How do you know he's the one?" I used to ask every happily married person in my circle of friends.  Each would smile a mysterious smile and  say, "You just know."  I would mutter under my breath, "You might just know."  I didn't trust my judgement enough to think I would ever "just know." 

He called me back two days after our date and asked me out for a second time.  We began to see each other at two or three times a week.  Once he left his mother, who was visiting from out of  town, with his brother (with her permission) to go out with me.  My friends--the same ones who had urged me to "get back in the swing," started warning me about rebound relationships.  We ate and talked and just enjoyed being together.  Sometimes he would come to my apartment and help me grade papers.  Other times we would drive out, park in a field and look at the stars while lying back on the hood of the car with his arm around me.  But he still hadn't kissed me.  What was up with that?

One night he took me to a coffee bar by the river called "Mozart's".   Under the huge oak tree he told me that he loved me.  He hadn't wanted to get caught up in the physical until he knew how he felt.  He also informed me that his intention was to marry me someday although he wasn't going to ask me yet.  I was speechless.  Then he kissed me.  It was a knee melting kiss.  I was glad of the solid tree behind me to hold me up.  My mind was spinning with his announcement.  I had only known him three weeks.

The next time we went out.  I told him I loved him, too.  I didn't comment on the marriage almost-proposal yet.  I thought that I "just knew" but I wanted a sign, something to confirm my judgement.  One night he came over to help me grade and in his hand was a folded piece of paper.  He asked me to sit down and then he started to tell me a story.  One of his friends had made a list of characteristics he wanted in his future wife, he had prayed over it and he had found her when she went on a job interview with his mother.  His mother had recognized the girl of her son's list and  fixed them up.  Inspired by that, my man had made his own list.

He unfolded the paper and handed it to me.  It was only 10 items long, but  I guess the only difference was that my hair was short since I had cut it off after breaking up with my last boyfriend.  Without a word, I disappeared into my bedroom and brought out my own folded sheet of paper.  I handed it to him and said with a trembling voice, "The funny thing is, I did the same thing."  He read in silent amazement.  He looked up at me and choked, "My own mother couldn't have described me better!"  He ran his finger over the one item I had erased because I had decided it was too picky.  It was still legible--Over 6 feet tall.  He is 6 feet 4 inches tall.

We hugged and kissed, overwhelmed with joy and confounded at God's plans. Now I knew that I "just knew." 

What happened next may seem strange.  We started  planning  a wedding.  Now he hadn't  proposed and  told me that he "had a plan" but we had  a limited budget and he wanted me to have my dream wedding.  He wanted details so that he could go out and start researching the way to make my dreams come true.  He even wanted me to go out and look at wedding gowns.  I was thrilled so I told only my best friend and we decided just to go to one shop and then no more until I was officially engaged and could shop with my mother.  Just a tip--never go window shopping for wedding dresses.  They are irresistable.

My friend and I walked in and before I knew what happened, the saleswoman and my "best" friend were  bringing in different styles of dresses and urging me to try them on.  Like any little girl, dressing up as a princess or bride had been one of my greatest joys.  I thought it  couldnt' hurt.  And then I found "the dress."  My friend and the sales lady declared it was made for me.  My friend looked at the price tag.  It was well beyond our budget.  Then the saleslady told us it  was half off right now and that if we  paid cash they would knock off an additional $100.  It would be  exactly what we had budgeted.

I called him that night.  I explained the whole episode.  I knew if I bought a wedding dress without my mother's knowledge, she would  never forgive me.  I am her only daughter after all.  But at the same time, the incredible fact that my dream dress was exactly the price alloted in our budget (for a limited time) could also not be ignored.  When they sold out, time was up.

He calmed me down and told me not  to worry.  He would take care of it.  I had no idea how he planned to do that, but I went to sleep much more calmly. The next morning my mother called.  Right after we exchanged hellos, she said, "We had a visitor last night." "Oh"  "It was R. "  "WHAT?" (My parents lived 3 hours away by car).  As it turned out, he drove straight from work to my parents' house and asked for my hand in marriage.  He then asked  my mother to come to see me that weekend to start looking  for a wedding dress.  That weekend she came and I tried on 30 dresses at least, but my heart was already made up.  I bought the dress.  He still  had not proposed. There was no ring.

That was in October. Through November and early December we kept researching wedding items and making plans for a summer wedding but he still had not formally proposed and produced a ring.  My best friend and my mother, neither of whom have a high opinion of men in general, became convinced  that he was just stringing me along.  Every conversation I had with either of them started with the question, "Do you have a ring yet?" A long silence or a heavy sigh followed my negative answer. Was he stringing me along? 

Faith is hard when you've been abused.  You trusted once and were betrayed in the most humiliating and wounding way.  You spend your life trying to keep that from happening again.  You put limits on yourself--in how much you feel and how much you believe.  If you live small, maybe you won't be disappointed. It was very hard for me to wait.  It was harder to have faith when I was constantly being questioned.  And yet, I knew I loved him and he loved me.  He loved to do things with flair.  I really believed he had a plan.  I just had no idea what it was.

Read the final installment--"The Canyon, the Gold Ring and Everything."

Part 1--Making the List

Part 2--Will the Real Me Please Stand Up?

Part 3--Everything and the Cherry on Top?