Katy and Alan
How We Met
Alan lives in Western Australia and I live on the East Coast of the U.S. If we were the old solar system, he would be the Sun and I would be Pluto. That is how far apart we are. But by sheer dumb luck, Alan found me online anyway. The creeping on his part began around June or July of 2013, but we didn’t start talking until December of 2013 when he was vacationing in New York and I was visiting friends in Boston. One night while he was out with his friends, he messaged me jokingly, but repeatedly, asking me to marry him. We laughed it off the following day and chalked it up to him having had one too many Jack and coke’s. In July of 2014, we decided to meet up in Vietnam for our first “real” date. Unlike most first dates, ours lasted about 21 days long. But like most first dates, ours also came with quite a few embarrassing moments, such as the time we both had food poisoning in Saigon and no matter how loud we turned the volume of the TV up, we could still hear one another through the paper thin wall that separated the bedroom from the bathroom. Needless to say, we got to know each other really well during that first trip together. While some people may be turned off by things like that, it was a great icebreaker for us. And what’s funny is, I learned much later Alan is actually notorious for clogging toilets wherever he goes, but that is another story for another day. After Vietnam, we made it a point to see each other at least twice a year. Since then, I have visited him once in Australia, and he has visited me twice in America. Although we spend more time apart than we do together, I see him almost every day on Skype thanks to this wonderful thing called the Internet, and we have a great rapport. On his good days, he is perfection in disguise; on his bad days, he’s, well, me on PMS. But I love him. All of him. And surprisingly, he feels the same.
how they asked
London was where we planned to meet next. From there, we would travel to Paris, Rome, Florence, Santorini, and Athens together. I knew the proposal was coming (because I have to know everything, and he is terrible at keeping secrets from me), I just didn’t know where. Despite this fact, I still thought I was prepared for it as I am usually prepared for most surprises, and that when it happened I wouldn’t cry at all. But I wasn’t prepared for it. And I did cry. I cried a lottle (like a little, but a lot more).
It was May 16th, 2016 on the green grass of Champ de Mars in front of the Eiffel Tower during sunset that he decided he would get down on one knee to tell me there was a question he wanted to ask. After the question escaped his lips, but before I could respond (I was flooded with emotions, my vision was blurred with warm tears, and I couldn’t get a single word out), he grabbed my left hand and slid the ring on my finger, answering the question for me. (Minutes later, after the initial shock had worn off, he asked again just to make sure the answer was really yes haha.) I’m generally not a very emotional person, but I felt more during those few seconds than I have felt my entire life. I can say with certainty, he is the first guy who has ever made me cry tears of happiness. And for that, and so much more, I love him–to Pluto and back.