He Drew It First

So this happened. Marcus proposed last night at Mitch’s Tavern — the exact same spot where I told him his music taste was pretentious garbage two years ago. Because he’s Marcus, he drew the whole thing on a napkin first.

He Drew It First

I’m seven months pregnant and ugly-cried in a college bar. My belly was literally in the way of the romantic moment and I didn’t care. The bartender applauded. Some stranger bought us drinks (mine was water, obviously). Marcus looked at me — swollen feet, messy bun, seven months of baby — and said I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The ring is perfect. Modest but exactly what I would have chosen. Though knowing Marcus, he probably has a spreadsheet somewhere comparing clarity ratings and cut grades. I love my analytical nerd.

We’re engaged! Baby Hartwell will have married parents. My mother is thrilled. His mother cried happy tears. I’m still processing that this sweet, guitar-playing dork who burns popcorn is going to be my husband.