Lesson 8: Be an Intuitive Detective

So, where was I? Oh, still working on the engagement. My Day, if you will.

Apparently, the quasi-ultimatum worked. In January 2003, I guess Nathan dropped the bomb to our friends that he was ready to pop the question. So much for the five year theory, huh?

I'm not gonna lie, as we drove from Davenport to Iowa that April 26th, I was ninety-nine percent sure it was My Day. Starting in about early March 2003, I began noticing some bonafide hints. (Please remember that by this time, I had been let down by my evidently imaginary expectations/premonitions/hopes of getting engaged quite a few times.) But by now, I was more...experienced. Rational. And above all, intuitive. Add a bit of sleuth and that's how I was ninety-nine percent sure. Back to those bonafide hints. Let's bust out a list:

1.) One night, we were canoodling on my futon bed in the bedroom of my very first apartment. Talking. Snuggling. Laughing. Like a scene from a romantic comedy. (By the way, I love romantic comedies. "While You Were Sleeping." "My Best Friend's Wedding." "Sweet Home Alabama." Good times.) Anyhoo, at one point, we were holding hands. He lifted up our interlocked paws, separated them, and kind of started examining my pacifier -- oh! I mean promise ring. Said something kinda lame and out of character like, "That's a pretty ring, isn't it?" And I was thinking, "Uh, yeah. I've only had it for over a year. Now all of the sudden you comment on its aesthetics out of nowhere?!?" But of course, I chose to respond with a more detective-like, "Yeah, I really love it" while dying to respond with a more sassy, "Yeah, I wish it was a real ring for this finger." He proceeded to ask me to remove it, placed it on his finger, and examined it. Obviously to determine my ring size. Flutter, flutter. My tummy dropped. I knew something was up. Too interested, too cheesy, too much for Nathan.

He could have been more slick, but you can't blame the guy. He could've gone through my jewelry box to find another ring. He could've slipped the pacifier -- I mean, promise ring -- off while I slept. Or, scratch that and just ask to try it on because THAT'S not suspicious. Hint #1.

2.) Hint #2 was pure intuition. Toward the end of March, my parents and little brother planned a visit to us in Iowa on a Sunday. To go to brunch. To shop at Target. Nothing crazy. In my warped mind, and based on what I perceived as Hint #1, this would be the perfect opportunity for Nathan to ask my dad for my hand in marriage...sigh. And he did when we were through stuffing our faces with buffet food. My mom and I went to powder our noses/pee while my dad, bro, and boy toy ventured toward the outside car. Legend has it that within those few minutes, Nathan quickly grabbed my dad and hurriedly said, "Before they come outta there, I need to ask you for your daughter's hand in marriage!" My dad briskly whacked Nathan's hand away and matter-of-factly replied, "She's too young." Not really, but wouldn't that have been dramatic?!? My dad acquiesced his request and added that Nathan didn't even need to ask, that they'd be lucky to have him in the family, blah, blah, blah. And just like in the movies, (a good romantic comedy, of course) my mom and I emerged just after an important piece of the plot was revealed.

So my dad knew. My brother knew. I thought I knew. My mom wasn't allowed to know because Nathan worried she'd let the diamond cat out of the bag. Hint #2.

3.) Nathan knew a guy who knew a guy who knew about diamonds. One of those deals. The Diamond Guy was in the jewelry business before he started chiropractic school with Nathan. He knew a guy who knew a guy who shared ownership in DeBeers. The Diamond Guy could somehow get the goods for cost from some DeBeers guy. Straight from Israel, as Nathan still proudly proclaims. Amazingly and beyond my knowledge, Nathan was in cahoots with our mutual friend, Holly. Her mission: extract diamond cut preference from me. Holly and I talked about rings all the time, like most twenty-somethings in serious relationships would. So she had an idea going into it, but Nathan demanded specifics. Nathan knew I liked white gold -- or platinum if he won the lottery. He knew I preferred a carat and also that I'd understand if it was significantly smaller if he ever proposed while we were still poor students living on loans...with the understanding as long as I was promised an upgrade within ten years or so. Essentially, he designed the ring. Princess cut, D color (he's VERY proud of that), .65 carat center stone with trillion cut side stones, .3 carats each. That's 1.25 total weight, ladies. Let me tell you, I did NOT expect that from my boyfriend who didn't really like spending money on gifts and was eating Ramen Noodles at least three times a week for dinner.

I'm off track, surprise, surprise. I'll bring us back. I knew, sort of, who the Diamond Guy was. Even though Nathan and I had separate places until July 2003 (sorry, Mom and Dad, the truth hurts...yes, we co-habitated before marriage), he was at my very first apartment a lot. So much so, people, including the Diamond Guy, would call for him there. I got home from work one day. Saw the red light flash on the answering machine. Pressed it. Listened. "Uh, hi, Nathan. This is Diamond Guy. I have those biochemistry notes, so you can pick them up whenever." Detective Maggie recognizes a code anywhere. Biochemistry notes, my ass! Diamond Guy had MY RING. Which meant My Day really was on it's way. Hint #3.

Okay, so that might have been a bit exaggerated. Let me explain. I thought Nathan had finished biochemistry the previous trimester in school. Thought I was so smooth for breaking his oh-so not clever code. What did he think? That I really thought he needed those notes? That I didn't know his schedule? Well, turns out I didn't! Turns out it didn't matter. My mistaken interpretation was in reality, correct. The ring was ready. And I was sure it was twinkly. He was trying so hard to make it a surprise. And then came the straw that broke the camel's mother fuckin' back.

4.) Nathan planned a Saturday trip to Madison in April for us. Conspicuous for a number of reasons:

A. Nathan is anything but a planner. He likes to keep his options open in case something better comes along. HE asked ME, the definition of a planner, if I wanted to go to Madison on April 26, 2003. I said yep. And that I'd even skip my afternoon class. Those words came out of my excited mouth involuntarily. I'm NOT a class skipper. As soon as I heard he'd planned this mini-trip, I was ninety-seven percent sure it was going to be My Day.

B. When I asked where we would stay, he answered, and I quote, "Anywhere you want. We can eat where you want. Stay where you want. This is your weekend." Well, hot damn. I was right. Such a response was even more conspicuous than the mini-trip plan. Why? (This is the most extensive and involved list yet. I didn't even see it coming. What joy!)

i. Anytime we visited Madison after college, we usually crashed on couches in his old frat house.

ii. Nathan does not like to go out to eat. Takes too long. Too expensive. HUGE Hint #4.

I knew there was only one thing I could do.

Go shopping.