Now that the cat is out of the bag – yes, technically, we are already legally married. Back in October of last year we started talking about our options in terms of keeping Roddy here in the states, and after much discussion, on a normal Friday morning in January, we took the day off from work to visit the City Clerk to be legally married. It was a low-key, sign the paper and get it done sort of event. Our roommate (and Roddy’s Best Man) Jeff was our witness. And if you’ve ever seen the episode of 30 Rock where (spoilers) Liz Lemon gets married to Cyclops, it really was very much like that. Lots of dressed up people and lots of tacky wedding gift store items. Lots of excitement too.
Afterwards we ate lunch in Little Italy and then went home and watched Netflix. Because we know how to celebrate.
However, that’s not really the end. Roddy didn’t want to rob me of my dream proposal, and I didn’t argue because I’m a girl and I demand him down on one knee. So very few people knew what was going on. Word spread to our New York friends, a few family members knew, but we wanted to wait until it was right to tell everyone. We didn’t want to rush. And what is more normal than a proposal after the marriage? We’ll have our first date pretty soon!
The “proposal” was very sweet and super tailored to me. I came home from work to find a photo album full of pictures of places we want to go, as well as the Criterion Theater marquee in Bar Harbor with the words “Marry Me”. (I wouldn’t realize until later that he had actually set this up with the help of my very awesome friend in Bar Harbor). The last photo was on the Lincoln Center fountain, asking me to meet him there. So I jumped in a cab, sat at the fountain, and got my very sweet and memorable on-one-knee proposal with the engagement ring my grandpa gave my grandma.
We drove off to Bar Harbor the next day for our yearly 4th of July trip, where we saw the marquee in person. Oh, and we also spilled the beans to my family. Everyone was extremely happy, surprised, excited, and just tons and tons of supportive. The timing ended up being perfect – telling them all at dinner before the fireworks on the 4th of July at my father’s restaurant. In my dad’s case, we told him literally seconds before the fireworks went off. They were really for us. Not for America.
If you made it to the end of this, I’m seriously impressed with your dedication to my half-assed story telling skills. 🙂