Pools of Joy & Waves of Sorrow

Two years ago, David and I became officially engaged in an MGM Grand suite in Las Vegas.  Both of us clad in our birthday suits, him on one knee and I standing in front of him at the foot of the king size hotel bed.  His tenacious proposals had begun about thirty-six hours earlier, during his birthday dinner at The Little Door, a romantic, upscale French restaurant in the Beverly-Grove neighborhood of Los Angeles.

David and I had arrived at LAX a day prior to attend a friend’s afternoon wedding.  That night, I took him out to a nice dinner as part of his weekend birthday celebration.  It was in the restaurant, over some vino and seafood that he began repeating, “Let’s get married.  Marry me.”  It was initially more of a statement/borderline demand and was consistently answered with a giggly, “No.”  After about five times of him bringing up the idea of my being his fiancé, my “No’s” became more of a “Can we please stop talking about this now” sans the giggling.

I was visibly concerned for many reasons – the obvious being that marriage was never on my to-do list.  I was perfectly capable of commitment without a piece of paper.  The other was that we had just attended a wedding that afternoon which is where I decided all of his idealistic thoughts were stemming from.  Love was in the air, for lack of better terms.  At one point during the dinner while discussing the possibility of becoming newlyweds, he abruptly stood from the table and I swear to you, I think I almost had a heart attack as his motions insinuated that he was getting down on one knee in front of the entire restaurant.

Sit down!  Sit down!  Sit down – Right now!” I spat as quietly as one could in a completely booked dining room where the tables were so nearby each other, one could eavesdrop if desired.  Inside, I was screaming something along the lines of, “Sit your ass down right now or so help me I will run out of this place!”  David claims he was simply standing to come over to my side of the table and lay a passionate kiss on my lips.  To this day, I believe he was going to kneel and judging by my knee-jerk reaction, he realized that I’m not the “propose to your girlfriend on the teleprompter” kinda chick.  I’m not kidding when I say that I thought my heart was going to go into attack mode.  Hmmm another case of foreshadowing, I wonder as I type?

As we bid our goodnights, David adamantly notified me that he would ask me again, in the morning, as soon as he awoke.  He added that this was how I would know he was serious and that it wasn’t merely because we had just attended a wedding.  He concluded that he would ask me to marry him until my answer was a resolute “Yes.”

Sure enough, the following morning when David opened his eyes and found me getting ready for our short drive to Las Vegas for the continuation of his birthday weekend, he asked, “Will you marry me?”  I laughed it off, kissed him good morning and walked out of the bedroom.

That afternoon, while enjoying a delicious Mexican lunch at one of my favorite restaurants in the Venetian Hotel of Sin City, his proposal became a “Let’s do it now” pitch, “in Vegas. We already have our witnesses,” he swiftly motioned to my best friend and her husband.  I couldn’t believe my ears.  There’s no way I could get married in Vegas – or could I?  “No,” I replied, casually shaking my head and accurately pointing out that his mother would be extremely disappointed.

After lunch, we made our way to the hotel room to rest up for the evening’s events.  I bought us tickets, as a birthday gift for David, to the Beatles LOVE Cirque de Soleil show at The Mirage.  After passionately making love a couple of times, we lay upon the mangled sheets in a sort of sweaty, post sex high.  Once again, David asked me to marry him.  I responded, “Well, I’m definitely not getting married in Vegas and I’m definitely not going to say yes until you do it properly.”

David immediately jumped up from the bed, prompting me to follow.  As I stood, he slowly knelt on his right knee, looking up at me with his handsome, child-like eyes.  What resulted was a flawless deliverance of one of the most beautifully eloquent and convincing speeches I have ever heard in my life – so much so that I believe any one, man or woman, standing in front of him at that moment would have accepted his proposal.  I happened to be standing in front of him at that moment, following my heart and my heart said, “Yes.”

Today, January 23rd, 2014, is David’s 25th birthday.  Ironically enough, I met David when I was twenty-five.  He was twenty-one and I remember feeling no reservations about the blatant age difference at the time – I believe that’s that fucking blinding phenomenon called being in love or whatever.  Having never dated a younger guy prior to him, I thought to myself, age is just a number.  I now know it’s a number that can make some people seem miles, sometimes worlds apart.  The same can be said for separation and divorce – One year, you can be sitting in an enthusiastic audience, together, watching acrobatic performers dance in perfect synchronization to hit after hit of Beatles’ tunes and a couple of years later, you can be residing under entirely different roofs, miles apart, wondering if you can find it in your heart to ever again wish him a Happy Birthday…


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