He asked me to marry him.

It was shocking.
I was horrified.

When he ripped his shirt off, threw it on the ground, I knew something was up. He was acting unusual.

When he knelt down and grabbed my hands, I was paralysed with dread.

"Whatryou doin' baby? Whatryou doing?" I whined.

Time slowed down as my brain caught up with what was happening. His words warped like we were speeding through a tunnel as he asked "Will...you...marry...me?"

I tried to pull my hands back. He was joking? He must be joking. No. My smile faded. It was too sudden. It was absurd. It had only been days we'd been been together. The sun faded everywhere but where we stood. It was suddenly hot, and the volume was muted, except for my heart pumping in my temples. A long time passed.

I was angry. He shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not in front of people. I was embarrassed. I wasn't prepared.

I went still. The heartbeats in my head were spreading farther apart. I was looking down into his eyes and his soul seemed to be coming out to meet me.

I revisit this moment in my memory a lot.

It seems there were a lot of things I learned in the moments before I answered, or that I realized I already knew. There was an expression on his face that I've never seen since, and his eyes...

His eyes seemed to offer up all of himself, unfolding. I saw terror. The terror was huge, an ocean of it. His eyes were wet. After the fear there was an incredible longing, a searching that was ancient but faithful. A deep well of love, offering, and willingness. And certainty. He really fucking meant it. And he was waiting for to answer him.

I saw so much in him those few moments. I reference the vision sometimes, for answers. I knew that I knew all I needed to, and I knew that I had to say yes. Had to. It was very unlike choice, and much more an inevitability.

Time started rushing back at me then, the lights came up, and the droning cynical voice that had been shut out filled my head with a scream. What the fuck? No No No! You said you'd never marry! You can get out, you can change your mind and tell him no tomorrow. This is wrong!

"Yes."

The next 15 minutes were pretty blurry. I was in a storm of conflict. It felt like someone was sitting on my heart, and I was sort of floating through conversations, bewildered, wrestling with a choice still, with my mind. Very discontent.

Two hours later when I could breathe again, I was glad I'd said yes. Two weeks later, I couldn't believe it had been a battle. Now, I know it was an inevitability, an absolute consequence of us meeting again this year, like water running downhill from our meeting in the first place.