I was going to write about salad tonight. But it’ll have to wait until another day – because this here today needs its own place, and not be an afterthought to a recipe. And because I have a habit of really burying the lede, I didn’t want to be guilty of that today. This is important – it’s a biggie.
I don’t quite know how to write this any differently, so I’m just going to come out and say it – two nights ago, Andrew and I got engaged. There, I said it. I’m engaged!
Engaged to a lovely, incredible man, who makes me swoon when I see his face early in the morning and who makes my heart swell with love when we fall asleep. In the year we’ve been together (almost a year!) he’s made my life richer and brighter than I could ever imagine. He inspired me to take that career altering leap – he believed and continues to believe in me. An editor, a taster, a sous-chef, dishwashing helper, avid eater of desserts (particularly of the apple persuasion) – he is my best friend, my cheer leader, my partner-in-crime. And here’s the best part, he doesn’t just come alone – he comes with the most amazing family a girl can hope for. I feel like I won the family lottery – which is the best kind of lottery there is, right?
Life is kind of funny sometimes – and what a difference a year can make!
A year ago, to the day, I broke up with someone who, while is probably a very nice person, wasn’t a very nice boyfriend. Or rather he wasn’t a very nice boyfriend (for whatever reasons) to me. And so I ended it. The day after my birthday. And to make it even more official, since I was in a mood to celebrate the putting-my-foot-down event, I tweeted something to the extent of what I was looking forward to eating with my next boyfriend: cheese, butter, sour cream, pulled pork sandwiches, pizza, and bacon. Three days later, Andrew walked into my life (or rather re-walked, but that’s a story for another day). A few whirlwind weeks of dating (and keeping our relationship secret from everyone) cemented our relationship. Then after a trip to Florida in June, we pretty much were inseparable, living in two apartments, taking our duffels with us every few days. In January, we moved in together – Andrew traded his midtown digs for Brooklyn. And last Saturday night, after a daylong walk in the city, a stop for bahn mi, some chocolate along the way, a stunning meal at ABC Kitchen, and hours before I turned 33, Andrew, in the privacy and solitude of our apartment, proposed – and I accepted.
It was a quiet and low-key proposal, just the two of us sitting on our couch. I cried, and, according to Andrew, I made up words amidst all the excitement. Can you blame me?
And I always said that the right person for you will always make you feel like the superhero version of yourself. And that’s how I feel around Andrew. On days when my superhero cape needs mending, and my confidence is shaken, he renews my faith in myself. I’m floored every time with how much he believes in me.
They say that when you know, you know. I never thought I’d be the girl that knew. I was always careful and doubtful. I never had that feeling of certainty until Andrew. But I knew very early on with him. And it’s impossible to explain how I knew. It just felt like the most right thing in the world. Everything, suddenly, made sense. I felt grounded and certain and calm. Finally, I wasn’t a beat behind the world – I was in sync with it. I still pinch myself every morning and every night I count my blessings.
And so – a new chapter begins. I’m marrying my best friend. And I’m so glad I can share these good news with all of you.