If you’re reading this, then you already know what this blog post is about. I went to Italy with my boyfriend and came back with my fiancé. My honey, my lover, Alex proposed to me in Italy. And, of course, everyone wants to know the story. And I love telling stories. So grab yourself a mimosa, sit back, and allow me to regale you with the tale as old as time (okay, more like the last couple hundred years), the proposal story.
So, as you have seen from the massive photo dump on my social media, I was in Italy for 10 days. Italy. For a country-born bumpkin like myself, the idea of going to Europe has always just seemed like a pipe dream. But with pandemic numbers down and money in the bank, Alex and I decided that the time had come. We booked flights, created an itinerary, and over the pond we flew!
First gelato in Italy, and it was everything it’s cracked up to be
We spent a couple days in Venice, which is where our story takes place. Venice is the most beautiful city I have ever seen in my life (so far). The canals in the Mediterranean sun are just like a postcard. The streets and old buildings are all works of art. These streets are very narrow and winding, mind you, so don’t expect to get anywhere quickly. But that’s okay. This is a place where it is a pleasure to get lost and just enjoy the world around you.
After a long day going to St. Mark’s basilica and the Correr art museum, we were relaxing in our hotel, a reclaimed Monastery that was nicely preserved. I was looking up interesting local places for dinner and he was getting cleaned up and ready to go out. Unbeknownst to me, he was slipping a ring box into his pocket. I chose a place and we set out. The restaurant had a beautiful view of the canal, and a menu that didn’t come in English. We employed a technique used by tourists for decades: point and ask what it is, then if it sounds good, order it. We got some wine on the waitress’ recommendation and enjoyed each other’s company in this uncrowded, beautiful place.
Between the appetizer and entree, Alex just slid off his chair and pulled out the little ring box. No fancy words, no big speech, just “Kim Deichmann, will you marry me?”
I nearly bowled him over with my “yes yes yes” and tackle-hug. The waitress approached me and asked if she could give me a kiss. I agreed, and she poured us an extra glass of wine. We took the long way back afterwards (there is no short way in the winding streets of Venice). WE were both floating on Cloud nine, the only people in the world.
As dictated by my disposition as an extrovert, my engagement went on my social media almost immediately. Aaaaaaand my phone proceeded to buzz almost continuously for the next two hours. To some, this may be annoying, but I kind of appreciate it. The people squealing in excitement were the ones that have known and cared about me for years. I’m happy, they’re happy, I’m happy they’re happy that I’m happy (yes that sentence does make sense).
Unbeknownst to me, most of my close friends already knew of Alex’s master plan. Before we left for Italy, he had told my friends his plan and asked if I would like it. The general consensus was “she loves you, just do it and she’ll love it.” They know me well. Alex is a pretty amazing person and pretty much any proposal would have gotten that shrieked “Yes!”
I know you're probably wondering if I knew beforehand, and the answer is: nope. I had a feeling it would either be in Italy or during our next convention. Either one of those would have been great, but I was actively not looking for hints, nor was I dropping any. No checking for ring boxes, no suggesting locations for a proposal, no suspicious glances when he ties his shoes. I wanted to be surprised, darn it!
So, there you have it. My proposal story, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I hope you liked my sappy little story. I have been planning my wedding since I was six, so now, let phase one of the monster wedding plan commence!
