Okay, okay. I haven't given details to everyone as requested, so here you go.
We had planned to celebrate our Valentine's day with a simple dinner-and-a-movie date on Friday the 13th since I had that day off but was working the weekend. Marc had previously arranged to get out of work early so we could have lots of time.
I woke up to the plane crash on the news, which made me sad, but didn't really stop my day. I cleaned out the vacuum and made a gigantic mess all over the house in the process. I also had an internet fight about my "insensitivity" regarding the crash since I'd said I wasn't going to bother watching the news all day. Very exciting.
Anyway, it came time to meet Marc at his place of employment, which happens to be right next door to the airport. So, half staff flags, flowers, vehicles with lights on everywhere. But it was several miles from the actual crash sight so it didn't really do much except increase traffic. However, Marc ended up being kept in work an hour later than he was supposed to be, so we couldn't find the time to go to a "real" restaurant before the movie would start.
We went to Moe's for tacos instead, talking about how inappropriate we both felt it was for everyone to vulture the drama of the crash, and act as if they'd had personal losses when they hadn't, and the fine line between that and heartfelt sympathy for victims and their bereaved. I think Marc and I are similarly pragmatic about such things, which made me feel like I had an ally against all the tragedy scavengers out there. Our taco dinner was, well, nice.
Then Marc got a phone call of the kind where he kept responding "oh my god," and "what?!" and as it turned out, Muzzammil Hassan had killed his wife, Aasiya, and decapitated her. Both of these were Marc's, and Ron's, former employers at Bridges TV and the Orchard Park 7-11 respectively (both owned by the Hassans). This occurred just a mile or two away from Marc's house, at his old workplace.
Lovely.
We were of course calling people and telling them what had happened. Sarah didn't answer her phone, so I texted her. She called back immediately thinking something had happened, so I told her, and she expressed the same shock and all that everyone else had, then said "but you know, I was sure you were calling me to tell me Marc had proposed."
I laughed. I told Marc what she had said and mused that it would be the perfect day EVER, Friday the 13th, the aftermath of the plane crash, beheadings, etc. He laughed and pretended like he was about to, then got a phone call.
We went to see Coraline. It was cute. On the way out of the cinema, I remarked that the movie had been very engrossing and had taken my mind off of plane crashes and beheadings. We both expressed "what a day," and chuckled. Then Marc said "Kelly, will you marry me?" in an almost sarcastic manner, and I said, "yes," we grinned at each other, smooched and left the theater, not really discussing it any further. Very unsettled, very vague, very "us." Anyone remember how we initially got together? Yeah.
So, for a few days, I wasn't even sure it counted - the joking around, the lack of a ring. Then I decided it did count, like when you are granted a wish and say "I wish I could think of a wish!" and the genie says "done!"
I informed Marc of this, jokingly but almost timidly, in front of witnesses. He thought it was funny and informed me that I was awesome. Then later he told me he had considered us engaged since the day I gave him my "safety date," the day I set for a quick wedding in case he didn't get around to proposing. I said I just wanted it to be official so I could call him my fiancee so that people who didn't know us would understand that this is not a casual dating situation, but pretty much a done deal in the sense that we're planning on spawning and aging together.
However, before any of this happened, he told me to pick a weekend in late summer and request off work, because he wanted to take me for a short camping vacation to Hamlin Beach. I think his plan was to formally propose then, and I ruined it. Haha. That's what he gets for dragging his feet. But, I still want a ring. Is that backwards, trite, and superficial of me? Oh well, too bad. I want it anyway. :-)