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Not that things have slowed down at work any, but the two major “must-finish-before-the-break” projects I’m working on can literally go no further until I get more content. So, I’m going to enjoy the first, leisurely, one-hour lunch I’ve had in many weeks. In this entry, I’ll finally document the big news.

“Big News”… this is one of those points you look back on for the rest of your life. This isn’t like “Hey! I’m going to New York”, or “Hey! I’ve got new pants”. This is one of those pivotal times in your life that you want to make sure you got right, because there’s really no dress-rehearsal or second takes.

After a weekend stressing about her review on Monday morning, Simone was surprised to come into work to a promotion in job title and perks. In order to celebrate, I suggested we find a really nice restaurant. Actually, I bet her on Sunday night that if she didn’t meet her target raise, that I’d pay for dinner. If she met or exceeded it, she’d pay. Either way, we both win.

Thursday, December 6th comes, and I had somehow convinced her to let me take her ice skating at Nathan Phillips Square before dinner. She was hesitant, but knew how much I was excited about an early start to my favourite (and her least favourite) season.

The first challenge that day was getting out of work. I had originally slated the day off as lieu time, but a handful of videos had to be finished, put to tape, and sent out the door and on the road to Toledo, Ohio. Once I finally got them out, I drove home.

Once home, I had a call from work asking me to come back in because of additional, after-11th-hour changes to the video. Luckily, Lindsay covered for me. I didn’t want to tell anyone what I was thinking before I told Simone.

I made it downtown in time to pick up Simone and head up to Nathan Phillips Square. Since the Saturday before, I’ve kept one hand on my right, zippered jacket pocket. More than ever, as we walked north through the just-barely sub zero night my hand was held away so as not to attract attention. 

We crossed Queen St. during rush hour, and walked towards the rink. I rented skates, and Simone found the locker-room and tucked our stuff in a couple of lockers. With great concentration, we walked on blades to the rink. I might add here that the last time I was on ice skates was in grade 8. Luckily, many of the techniques in skiing are transposed including the appropriately named “skating”.

Starting just before 6:00, we had just gotten our ice-legs before we had to hop back off while the Zamboni cleaned the rink. We chatted and made small talk, and I tried to think of the best way to broach the topic.

We made many laps around the rink. It was busy, but by no means crowded. I was not thinking about keeping my balance as much as I was about the box in my coat pocket. I also tried to lead the conversation several times into an “isn’t it romantic” theme, but I would quickly stop talking when I couldn’t think of the perfect thing to say next.

I didn’t rehearse anything beforehand.  I tried a couple of times, and I thought that with two screenwriting courses under my belt I could come up with something. In the end I figured that the “stumbling, stuttering, cute thing” was my Ace, so I should stick with it.

At this moment I was regretting such a decision.

6:30 chimed at the Old City Hall and we had to start on our way to the restaurant. Simone had been aware that I had been unusually quiet and concatonated in my speech for the last few laps. I mentioned yet again how I thought it was romantic to skate with her, she commented that I’m the romantic one.

“Can I ask you something romantic?” I simply asked. Following her approval, I continued with, “Simone, will you marry me?”

I thought the preceding question would have prepared her even a little for the possibility of what the next question would be, but she seemed quite stunned. I couldn’t tell if she was taking a mental picture of the moment to savour until her golden years, or she was trying to figure out how to run away when she’s stuck in my arms and balanced precariously on skates. Even looking back now, I’m not sure.

We had talked about our feelings on marriage many times before, and we both felt that we were in a place where taking vows would be a real positive in our relationship. The details are complicated, for lack of a better word. She’s Jewish, I’m Christian. She’s a City Girl, I’m a Barrie Boy. She likes Summer and hates Winter, and I’m her opposite there too.

Where we’re the same is our love for one another. There have been a few times in our six years together when it really didn’t seem like we could work out these differences, but we did. And the only thing that is important to me is that we both want to continue being together.

…mind you, the conversation we had there, on the ice, was far less composed. But believe me when I say that my stuttering and her blubbering was just as convincing.

And so she said ‘yes’.

I don’t think she ever imagined that she would be given a ring, but that she’d be allowed to pick it out. On every other gift in life I’d agree, but this one I wanted to be part of that snapshot memory we both carry into our golden years. While I didn’t “get down on one knee” (I could barely stand), I did put the ring on her finger right there on the ice.

It was a bit big, and is currently out for resizing, but I figured that would be better than being a bit too small.

We celebrated at Donatello’s, where a very excited waitress gave us a couple glasses of bubbly as a toast. Perhaps it was the exceptionally good food and wine, or maybe the circumstances surrounding the evening, but I can say without exaggeration that the dinner was one of the finest I’ve ever had.