My Gay Proposal
The story of two women in love
Charlotte chatted me up on the 27th March 2013 in a gay bar (she hates how stereotypical that makes us). When she first came over I was stood at the bar waiting to get a drink. I’d noticed her earlier but thought she was straight, and way too attractive to look twice at me. I heard her say ‘hey’ and turned towards her. My god, she was beautiful, I thought. While I stood staring at her blankly she asked, ‘Are you single? Are you gay?’ At this point, I thought someone must be paying her to talk to me as a cruel joke, especially since her chat-up lines were so goddamn terrible (sorry Charlotte). I hoped I was wrong but still, I was left questioning why this beautiful human being was talking to me.
On our 2nd date she fell over stood still on a train platform and that was the moment I knew we were meant to be.
I proposed to Charlotte on 20th June 2014. I’d been planning the day for months, when I first considered it I quickly realised it was the best decision I’d ever made. On that day in June we were already in Edinburgh but due to head home. I suggested we go to the pub across the road for a coffee before we left. I was shaking… I’d been shaking all week and finding every possible way to hide my nerves.
I’m a terrible liar and THIS was the biggest lie to hold onto for 6-months. Once, when I booked our first surprise trip away we were chatting about what we’d do at the weekend, the weekend of the surprise, and I said, ‘oh, we’ll be packing for Paris then.’ PACKING FOR PARIS. You fool. Charlotte still loves to laugh at my shock and despair. So, with that track record I was trying my best to keep schtum.
I had to be elaborate to protect the secret so I created a week long “SURPRISE PLAN” to cover my tracks. This plan involved a few more surprises during our regular trip to Edinburgh to try and throw her off the scent. I hoped it would explain my really odd behaviour… palpitations, general panic and constant shakes. We went to the Royal Orchestra, whisky tasting and to watch a play about the moon landing (she has diverse passions does our Charlotte).
Then the day came and we were sat together in an Edinburgh pub drinking coffee. My months of planning were underway and I was frozen to the spot, can this really be happening? What the hell am I going to do if she says no? Fuck. Charlotte was drinking away, oblivious to how her weekend was about to unfold. But, I had one last distraction… “We’re not going home, I’ve booked a table at a Michelin Star Restaurant. In fact, we’re not going home until Sunday.” She was so excited and so confused. I’d saved up for months for this few days, working 4 sessional jobs to make sure I made her weekend (our weekend) exactly right.
I’d thought about proposing in a restaurant or even next to Edinburgh Castle but then I remembered how much she hates attention so decided the perfect place would be alone. After the restaurant I took her to another pub where I asked her to wait until I came back.
This. Is. It. I exhaled.
I’d left the suitcases in the hotel we’d been staying in and had to find a way to get them to the suite I’d booked for the big question. I got the train back to our hotel and waited impatiently for a taxi to take me where I needed to go: The Library Suite at the Witchery by the Castle. The ½ hour this took felt like the longest of my life. The taxi could only take me to the bottom of the hill and conveniently the hotel was at the top. We hadn’t packed light. Bollocks. I wrapped 5 bags over my shoulders and walked breathless up the hill, swearing under my breath and imagining Charlotte getting impatient back in the pub. She was nervous and afraid, and I didn’t want to leave her waiting. Afterwards she told me she thought I was breaking up with her (now that would have been dramatic).
I reached the hotel and checked in explaining my situation and the insane panic I felt. Then I left on the longest 10-minute walk of my life back to Charlotte. I remember this part of the day vividly as I moved towards her in a rush. The sun was shining, which is rare in Scotland, and I went back through the Old Town with a huge smile on my face as I picked up the pace to reach her sooner. I felt so lucky to be alive and to have found her. It felt like I was speeding towards my own future. My stomach was doing somersaults and I was sure I would be sick.
When I reached her I was shaking frantically and so was she. I explained I was walking her to our next surprise while I took some deep breaths to calm me. Charlotte had spotted the Witchery a few days earlier and asked if we could go for a meal there. I said no, it looks terrible (told you I was a bad liar.) When we walked into the hotel Charlotte was a few steps behind me, looking around silently in complete awe, as a porter showed us to our suite, The Library Suite. It was full of secret bookcases, a luxurious bed, classical music and a bottle of champagne. Charlotte waited until the porter left to burst into tears. She doesn’t like to cry but I secretly felt pleased I had overwhelmed her with my secret plan. She deserved kindness and love in abundance.
I walked to get the ring from my bag and said ‘I bet you know what’s coming next’. She looked at me blankly and afterwards told me she didn’t have a bloody clue what was coming next. We sat down on a beautiful velvet sofa and I turned to her and read a speech I had pre-prepared (of course). I talked about my life changing immeasurably the moment I met her and the feeling of ‘just knowing’ we were meant to be together. Love is like a constant flow between two people, a knowing and a not knowing of each other always. It’s a deep and endless curiosity for each other and the world around you. In my hand was a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, the book we spoke about on our first date; narcissism is the perfect topic to break the ice right? I opened the book and inside I had cut the pages to create space for a 1940’s diamond ring, subtle but uniquely beautiful, just like Charlotte.
I said the fateful words, ‘will you marry me?’ and she held me while she cried some more. ‘Charlotte… you’ve not said yes?’… ‘Yes, of course yes, you bloody idiot! YES!’
It’s been nearly 4-years since the proposal and everyday since has felt like a huge privilege. It’s so scary to love someone so completely, so deeply. It’s painful, especially when I think about losing her, and knowing with certainty the vast emptiness I would feel. She’s become the reflection of my memories; my validator, critic and soother. She has found the laughter in me and made me silly and playful again. I have so much to thank her for.
The greatest gift my wife has given me is unconditional love. She has allowed me to be. I am who I am today because she has offered an open, loving space to dance around, fuck up and try again and again. She has offered me soothing patient in abundance. She has listened and celebrated; encouraged and drawn the line; moved towards me on the toughest days and challenged me when I’m wrong. She has loved the flaws in me.
Charlotte is an enigmatic, messy, intuitive and flawed human being, and she is my wife. It’s an honour to love her.
