How We Met
We met in a setting where you are most likely NOT going to find your future husband…New Orleans. It was the Sophomore year of college and I was on Spring Break with a group of girlfriends. We met up with a some of my roommate’s friends from home for a night of drinking, and that is the night I first met Adam. The night was a total blur, but I do remember kissing this tall blonde boy from the south.
Fast forward a year and a half, I received a message on Facebook from that same blonde, informing me he was visiting a friend Elon, where he remembered I was attending. His plan was to drive from Baton Rouge, Louisiana all the way to Elon, North Carolina (about a 14-hour trek) for the weekend. As soon as I saw him again, the same instant attraction I had felt a year and a half prior came right back, and we were inseparable that entire weekend. When it was time for him to drive back to LSU, I said my goodbyes, not knowing when I would see him again. About an hour after watching him drive off, I had a knock at my front door. There was Adam, telling me he decided it wouldn’t be right to leave without taking me on a proper date first. He ended up staying a few more nights and asking me to be his homecoming date the following month. This started what would be our year and a half of long-distance.
how they asked
We had been dating for 6 years at this point, and I knew a proposal was coming soon. Needing to be fully prepared, I have to admit I’ve curled my hair, re-applied makeup, and had fresh manicures every day for the past few months. Everyone, including myself, was convinced there was no way he would be able to surprise me.
We planned a trip with our families to attend Jazz Fest in New Orleans, which was something my parents and I had been wanting to do for the past few years. I knew months leading up to the trip that his dad had a work obligation in Houston that Saturday, so his parents would only be able to attend a crawfish boil with us on Friday, and we would go to Jazz Fest with my parents on Saturday. Knowing how important it was to us both that our parents be at the engagement, I had no doubt he was going to propose on Friday night. Again, I curled my hair to perfection, re-applied the lipgloss, filed my nails, you name it. Well, Friday came and went with no proposal. That night, I explained my frustration to Adam, who replied with “I knew you were going to be upset, but I promise it’s coming in the next few months. I just knew you wouldn’t be surprised if I did it here.”
The next day was chaotic, to say the least. Adam is not much of a planner, so none of this shocked me, but we almost missed our brunch reservations, he couldn’t find our tickets to Jazz Fest for hours, and then I found out an hour before dinner that the restaurant had a strict “no denim” policy, which did not work with the white pants I had packed. Frantic and frazzled, I made Adam run to the mall with me, grabbed a dress and heels off the rack at Dillard’s, and quickly rushed to meet my parents for dinner. (Note: that day, I had been drinking, twerking to Big Freida at Jazz Fest, and sweating in 90-degree weather, and now had no time to shower or get ready).
As we walked down the road towards Commanders Palace, where my parents were waiting for us, I saw a “Magazine Street” sign, and said to Adam, “hey! I think this is where we first met 8 years ago!” It was at that exact moment that Adam turned me around to face him, got down on one knee, and proposed. I completely blacked out and don’t remember anything after that, but I do know there was a photographer he had hired to take the most amazing, candid pictures of us.
I then saw my parents run down the street, champagne in hand. Moments later, his parents appeared (who were not in Houston after all)! The most shocking, though, was seeing my brother — who lives in Philadelphia — come running down last. It was beyond perfect–all of us together, celebrating right where he and I had first met so many years ago.