Holy Shit! I'm Getting Married

So... this happened:

Capt, are you crying!  There's no crying in piracy?

For the three people in the world that are surprised by this (Mad Jack and I have been dating for nearly 4 years, planning our wedding for 6, and have had people tell us we're doomed to marital bliss since before our relationship was legal in the state of New Jersey), I will tell you what went down.

First engagement happened in Wild Wood crest, which is now a sandy puddle.  Mad Jack had just found out he had been accepted to his Masters in Ireland, we had approximately a month to move to a new country, and he was trying to figure out housing.  In a gelato place one day, while I was figuring out apartments in Galway, he looks up and says, "Hey, in case it makes it easier, I'm going to tell housing that you're my fiancee.  Is that okay?"

I kinda looked at him like 'dude, who gives a fuck?' and 'aww, we're psuedo-engaged, now' and I said, "Yes, I'll marry you."

He then protested that this was not a proposal and I insisted that I would tell our children only of this moment and forget whatever else he did as a means of defense against the warm and fuzzies threatening to revive the black pit that is my soul.

Mad Jack took this as a challenge to come up with the most romantic and warmest and fuzziest way to propose ever.

There has been weeks of deception leading up to this.  For example, three weeks ago:

"Hey, capt, what's a good Rufus song for a guy to play to like get with a chick?"

"There's is none.  Rufus Wainwright sings only of unrequited love."

"Come on, It's for [name I register but don't recognize nor feel any compassion towards.]"

"Who?"

"The little guy who should be gay, but is straight with the really hard abs that we all molested at the bar that one time."

"Aww!  That guy!"

"He wants something like sophisticated to sing to this girl he wants to impress."

"He should use 'Pretty Things'.  That's my favorite song.  He should also be gay... it's just weird."

And this:

"Hey capt, I think we should go to the Cliffs of Mohr next weekend."

I remember that a short while ago I said to Mad Jack, ' if you are going to propose to me for real i'd be nice if you could do it before I leave to go back to the states.'  Followed by the thought, 'that sneaky bitch, thinking I don't know he wants to take me out there somewhere beautiful and ask me in public.  Ha I'll show him.'

"Naw, it'll be cold and rainy."

"So you really don't wanna go?"

And I think, 'why spoil it?' so I say, "I'll wear my poncho!"

Somewhere along the way there was a sneaky question about public proposals, slipped into by watching a comic sketch with a public proposal... but that's fuzzy in my head.

Anyways,  Mad Jack is slick, as you all probably know.

On Nov. 2, the fresher play at NUIG was having it's last night and I went.  The play was "Laramie Project" which as Mad Jack says, "is a comedy about a small Wyoming town's reaction to a gay man beaten and taken miles from town and left  for 18 hours to die."  (This is where you all laugh uncomfortably and say, 'yeah, poor Matthew Shepard.  Poor dead Matthew Shepard.)

After this tear-fest makes every person in the room cry until they're dehydrated, the director comes down and says a few words about the play. 

"'The Laramie Project' is really a play about love."

And I'm thinking, 'oh fuck, more warm fuzzy talk.'

And the director says, "So to celebrate this Mad Jack would like to ask Capt. Bloody Thom come down."

And because I'm a snarky shit, I thought, I'd just sit there and refuse to do anything, but I was sitting next to his director from another play and began to realize that all his friends were behind me where they had wedged themselves after intermission and that everyone in the room had known this was happening.  So I figured I'd oblige him.

Either that or I was already crying and on my way.  You know, take your pick.

At this point, "Pretty Things" by Rufus Wainwright stared playing and I was either thinking 'Mad Jack you bastard you tricked me again' or 'Oh my God, I love him' and probably didn't meant Rufus.

Thistle: the national flower of Scotland!

All the girls in the cast began handing me roses and lilies and Mad Jack comes up to be with thistles, which looks peculiar and off next to all the other flowers, but distinctly beautiful.

The flowers at home

He said nice things about me.  The only ones I remember was that I was smarter than him (which is only kinda of true) and that he had always loved me (which I know is true).  I realized it was nothing that I didn't hear from him at least once a week, and that having such an affectionate and articulate fella constantly telling me why he loved me makes me pretty damned lucky.

He talked about how it only made sense to propose in a theater because we met in the theater and began to bring up the Iago/Richard III argument.  I slapped him and he went back to business, got on one knee, and gave me this:

It's a Claddagh ring and it has symbolism that isn't little children dying in mines or daughter selling.

So I did the right thing and let him save face in front off all his friends and said 'yes'.  It was the best moment of my life, so far.  Which says a lot because my life is filled with God-Damned Awesomeness.

I almost found out three times that day.

First, Mad Jack lost his plastic money in the morning (in his defense out roommate who belongs in a sitcom had pocketed it because it looked like his) and my first thought was to check the pockets of his coat... where the ring was kept in an inside pocket.  The slick bastard pretended to be angry at me for thinking he wasn't bright enough to check the pockets of his coat, then put his coat on and checked the other pockets.

Second, during the sound check for the show, I was sitting in the back with Mad Jack's laptop typing for Nanowrimo (I'm at 20886 words, bitches!).  Rason/Jussel, our friend the schizophrenic Jew, rushes over to me and insists I come with him to the college bar to get a pizza.  Like frantically, which really is just like Rason/Jussel so I go with him and avoid hearing "Pretty Things" cued up as the finale.

Third, everyone I knew in Ireland was asking me in the weeks before what day I was going to see Laramie...and they were all there on the same night.  At least twice that evening, I came up to a group of friends and met with that weird hush where you know they were talking about you and now they have nothing to say.  I always assume that it's a coincidence and they just ran out of conversation as I arrived, because I try not to be paranoid and think everyone is talking about me all the time.  If I had been a little more aware/ suspicious/ gave a shit, I certainly would have put together why they all wanted to sit by me.

In the end though, it happened, it was beautiful, and not a single person I have told has been surprised. We all knew this was supposed to happen.

Look more pictures!