Valentine’s Day Proposal?

Part of the Voice I Almost Lost – Blog #32

by Alana Pierre Curry

A friend recently asked a question on Facebook that made me smile:
Would you want to be proposed to on Valentine’s Day?

I answered honestly. When I was much younger and thought marriage was something I needed to reach for quickly, I don’t think I would have cared what day it happened on. Back then, the milestone mattered more than the moment.

Now? Not so much.

I also mentioned that my husband’s proposal didn’t happen on one single day. It unfolded over several days. I promised to share the story, so here it is.

The story of us begins in 2017, at my favorite spot for live music. I was there alone on a weeknight, which was not unusual for me. I had grown comfortable with my own company. Sometimes company meant drama, and I had learned to value peace.

At the time, I technically had a boyfriend, though “on a break” was our ongoing status. Truthfully, he was always on a break, but that’s a different story.

My now-husband asked if someone was sitting in the seat next to me. It was actually two seats over, with a missing stool in between. I told him no. I turned back toward the stage and the music, not expecting anything more.

At some point, he started talking to me. At first, my responses were one-word answers. Then I found myself relaxing into the conversation. It was easy. Comfortable. Enjoyable.

Eventually, he asked for my phone number.

I paused.

That pause mattered. Normally, the answer would have been no without hesitation. But this time, there was a pause. And then I gave him my number.

The next day, he texted me, inviting me to something that genuinely sounded fun. I apologized and told him I never should have given him my number. Even though I was “on a break,” I knew where my heart and mind still were. I believe deeply in not starting something new before ending what is old. It wouldn’t have been fair to him.

Four years passed.

That break eventually became permanent. About once or twice a year, he would text me. A simple “Hi, how are you?” I would respond politely. He might mention where he was in the world. And that was it.

One year after my relationship truly ended, he texted again. This time, he said something like, “I know you’re in a relationship, but I still think about you.”

I replied, “Well…actually, I’m single. I’ve been single for a year.”

He asked me to dinner. I said yes.

The conversation flowed just like it had years before. He was kind, intelligent, attentive. Almost too much so. I kept thinking, He can’t really be this nice.

We met for dinner again. For music. For long conversations. And I realized I was afraid. Afraid that something so good had to come with a catch. I couldn’t move forward feeling that way, and it wouldn’t have been fair to him.

I told him friendship was all I could offer.

I could see that it hurt him, but he said okay.

Not long after, I noticed something. When good things happened, I wanted to call him. When something funny or meaningful occurred, he was the person I wanted to text. But I stopped myself. I told myself it would be cruel to lean on him emotionally if I wasn’t willing to fully show up.

Then one day, he texted me a song.

“Send For Me” by Atlantic Starr.

I cried. And I called him immediately.

Dating commenced again.

After many dates, I found myself checking in with my own instincts. He was funny. Kind. Intelligent. Attentive. But I still wondered how he would be in real life, not just dinner dates. So came the staycation.

Check.

That was May.

In July, on a random Thursday, he texted me asking me to take a Lyft and meet him at Diamonds Direct. I didn’t think wedding ring at all. He told me I would arrive before him and to ask for someone named Terry.

Terry was the loveliest salesperson. She began asking me what I thought about engagement rings laid out in front of me. I remember thinking, Okay…this is unexpected. I played along and picked one.

When he arrived, Terry told him I had chosen a ring that looked exactly like what he imagined I would choose. What I didn’t realize at the time was that he had already been there, already planned, already thought this through.

And then he said, “Great, we’ll be back.”

My internal response was simply, What?

That weekend, he planned a staycation in Grapevine. We went to dinner. Walked around. Laughed. Had a wonderful time. On Sunday, we returned to Diamonds Direct. They weren’t normally open, but there happened to be an event.

That’s when he officially purchased my ring. I bought his band. Still no proposal. The rings were ordered.

Later, we went to an early dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. I was still trying to process what was happening.

And then he proposed.

It wasn’t traditional. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t tied to a holiday or a grand audience. It was thoughtful, layered, intentional. Perfectly us.

Later, he took my grown children to brunch without me. I was sick that day. He told them we were engaged before I ever did. Even that happened exactly as it was meant to.

Nine months later, we were married.

So no, I would not want to be proposed to on Valentine’s Day.

I would want a proposal that unfolds over time. One rooted in respect, patience, growth, and intention. One that comes on a random Sunday, after rings are purchased, at one of our favorite restaurants.

Because the best moments in life don’t always arrive wrapped in tradition. Sometimes, they arrive exactly when you’re ready to receive them.