This post originally appeared on our old site Born to be a Bride.
Today marks the fourth anniversary since the night that, after a few dates and plenty of smooches, Josh sidled up next to me on the ottoman in a cigar smoke-filled room at a party. He whispered, “Will you be my…” [stammer, stammer] “girlfriend?” Um, yes! Three and a half years later, he knelt down on the sand and presented me with a beautiful diamond ring, asking, “Will you marry me?” And here we are today, just six months left before our nuptials. When I’ll meet him on the beach at sunset, and we’ll officially promise our hearts to each other forever.
Four years ago, I knew I had hit the boyfriend jackpot. I was 24, living in Manhattan, dating all the wrong guys, and working like a slave at the lowest rung of the journalism spectrum–editorial assistant. I was generally happy in my little shoebox apartment that was filled with Shabby Chic touches, strings of pink shimmering hearts, mix-and-match antiques, and a tiny little Dolce the cat who was merely weeks old. But something was missing.
One night not long after we started dating, I told Josh that I’d had a rough day at work and was going to stay home and lay low. In other words, watch The Devil Wears Prada for the fortieth time that year (it was only March) and cry. Twenty minutes later I got a text. Look outside your window.
He’d hiked a mile to his car (parking spots in NYC proper are hard to come by) and he’d driven all the way to the Upper West Side to take me for ice cream, the only surefire thing to cheer me up for as long as I can remember.
It was a simple gesture but one I will never forget. Our Manhattan romance was peppered with these sweet moments that I continue to look back on with fairy tale-like reminiscence. I know our future, no matter where we are, will be, too.
Four years ago today, I officially started a journey with a truly incredible man. Tonight when we celebrate over low-calorie entrees and one glass each of organic white wine, I know I will be filled with the same butterflies that cut through the smoke on that ottoman, the same ones that danced around me for four days straight in Southern California this past summer, and the ones that will carry me down the aisle this September.
In the midst of the planning and the details, from cake flavors and floral arrangements to lipstick, linens and veils (more on that tomorrow!), it’s important to stop and take a moment to remember why this is all happening. I’m marrying the love of my life, and that is sweeter than any cake flavor, by far.
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