In one early text message conversation, before discovering each other’s quirks or taking a deep dive past surface-level conversations, Branon sent me a picture of his extensive movie collection. Spanning three book cases and multiple genres, I gawked at the dedication. He promised I could still borrow his movies even if future dates were no longer on the table. (A claim I still don’t believe.)
So during our first year of dating, we established a ritual. We would pull every blanket, pillow, and comforter together, make the most spectacular bed we could, and spend the day meandering through movie after movie. We even muscled through particularly bad ones just to improve our count for the day.
On October 14th we had planned for one of our movie days. I promised I would swallow my fear of scary movies to stick with the Halloween theme. He said there was one movie in particular he wanted me to watch.
After struggling for the first part of the day to turn off my computer and work emails for the day, he asked me to sit by him so we could watch the next movie -- the one he picked.
The previews started. We talked about which ones looked good and which ones didn’t. He fidgeted.
Then, the Match.com sign-in screen popped up on the television, my favorite Ron Pope song playing in the background. Our names began typing in the blank sign-in fields. He appeared next, recounting the first time we had met after connecting on Match. How he had called moments before to jokingly tell me he couldn’t make it. Partly to break the ice, partly to make sure I was a real person. How he felt from the very beginning of our relationship. How he knew from the beginning this one was different.
From that point forward, the movie -- nearly half an hour long -- documented all of the seasons we had spent together. The trips we went on, the weddings we attended, how it felt to bring our families together for the first time. He had filmed a segment every few months, over two and a half years, in order to document our history as it was happening. At the end he was on his way to ask my parents for my hand in marriage.
Then, he got down on one knee and asked. And, in between sobs, I said yes.
About three months into the relationship, I remember him looking at me and saying, “I want you to remember this moment. I can’t tell you why, but just remember it.”
After the proposal, I asked him about that moment. He explained, “It was one of the times I just knew. People always say they had a feeling early on that their partner was ‘the one.’ I didn’t want you to ever question just how sure of us I was from the very beginning. I wanted you to see that I acted on it. So I started filming.”
It was a proposal two and a half years in the making. And I can say it was well worth the wait.
So during our first year of dating, we established a ritual. We would pull every blanket, pillow, and comforter together, make the most spectacular bed we could, and spend the day meandering through movie after movie. We even muscled through particularly bad ones just to improve our count for the day.
On October 14th we had planned for one of our movie days. I promised I would swallow my fear of scary movies to stick with the Halloween theme. He said there was one movie in particular he wanted me to watch.
After struggling for the first part of the day to turn off my computer and work emails for the day, he asked me to sit by him so we could watch the next movie -- the one he picked.
The previews started. We talked about which ones looked good and which ones didn’t. He fidgeted.
Then, the Match.com sign-in screen popped up on the television, my favorite Ron Pope song playing in the background. Our names began typing in the blank sign-in fields. He appeared next, recounting the first time we had met after connecting on Match. How he had called moments before to jokingly tell me he couldn’t make it. Partly to break the ice, partly to make sure I was a real person. How he felt from the very beginning of our relationship. How he knew from the beginning this one was different.
From that point forward, the movie -- nearly half an hour long -- documented all of the seasons we had spent together. The trips we went on, the weddings we attended, how it felt to bring our families together for the first time. He had filmed a segment every few months, over two and a half years, in order to document our history as it was happening. At the end he was on his way to ask my parents for my hand in marriage.
Then, he got down on one knee and asked. And, in between sobs, I said yes.
About three months into the relationship, I remember him looking at me and saying, “I want you to remember this moment. I can’t tell you why, but just remember it.”
After the proposal, I asked him about that moment. He explained, “It was one of the times I just knew. People always say they had a feeling early on that their partner was ‘the one.’ I didn’t want you to ever question just how sure of us I was from the very beginning. I wanted you to see that I acted on it. So I started filming.”
It was a proposal two and a half years in the making. And I can say it was well worth the wait.
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