The "Serendipity" Cocktail
So, today is technically Casual Friday, but instead of providing you with Internet nonsense, I’m going to tell you alllll about my roommate asking me to marry him last week. I made champagne cocktails to celebrate!
WARNING: This shit is long. It involves inappropriate language, an engagement blanket, public PDA, Feelings with a capital “F,” and a surprise trip to Paris. If any of those things make you uncomfortable, or you’re just here for the booze (no judgment), I suggest scrolling to the recipe at the bottom of this post right now. À bientôt!
As for the rest of you…
Let’s do this.
Last Wednesday, Logan and I headed up to Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park under the pretense of meeting our friends (hi, Carter and James!) and their baby for drinks. I didn’t think this was a strange activity pitch on Logan’s part, since we picnic occasionally (read: once a year), and given that these friends live uptown with said baby, the park seemed like a convenient meeting spot.
Carter kindly texted me earlier in the day saying how excited the child was to meet me (I had been nervous), it was a beautiful day, and Logan had packed a tote bag with some “light snacks and brews,” so I was actually pretty pumped about this happy hour picnicking scenario. It made me feel like a super cool New Yorker who does fun things on Wednesdays.
Logan was also excited. In fact, I called him out for Buddy the Elf-ing too hard twice that evening—once when he kept trying to chat/kiss me while I was doing my hair, and once for being overly giddy in the Uber. However, he had gotten some excellent work news earlier that day, so I attributed his extreme happiness to that. (Who knew it was because we were about to become fee-ahn-saaays?!!)
When we got to Sheep’s Meadow, I tried to plop down in the middle of the field, but Logan insisted we go further “northeast.” I was resistant because there were several strange dirt patches and people with strollers in that area (gross), but Logan convinced me that our friends were coming from that side, and we should try to make it easy for them to find us because “they have a baby.” This made me feel guilty, so I followed him to a spot he liked. He told me James had texted to say they were running a few minutes late and suggested we pull out the blanket and snacks while we waited. At that point, I was very distracted by a couple that were literally eating each other’s faces 20 feet away, and I kept telling Logan to LOOK!! but he didn’t seem to care. He was very focused on unpacking his tote. Honestly, that should have tipped me off that something strange was happening—Logan loves witnessing really aggressive PDA almost as much as I do—and yet, it didn’t.
Once he’d pulled out some stuff, Logan asked me to help him with the blanket. It was white fleece on the outside, and I didn’t recognize it, but we had just cleaned our apartment the weekend before, so I said, “Ew. What is this blanket? Did you find it in the hall closet?” He claimed it was new. When I started to unroll my half of the blanket, I saw that it was light blue on the inside, and it had some sort of pictures printed on it.
The pictures were of us.
All of them.
I was confused. Had Logan taken up quilting? How had I not noticed this new hobby? Why would he not tell me about this strange blanket project? Then I saw something on the bottom. Stitched beneath the rows of chronological photos of our relationship was the date: September 21, 2016.
Suddenly, I knew what was happening. My vision got a little spotty, and there was a weird whooshing in my ears. This is not necessarily uncommon (I have anxiety), but it was disorienting nonetheless. I’m mildly ashamed to admit this, but the first words out of my mouth in this proposal sitch were, “Oh my God. I’m going to throw up.” Logan’s response? “This is happening. I’m going to get down on one knee now!”
And he did. Then for some reason I said, “I’m going to sit too!” And I did. I sat Indian style, and he kneeled over me to give what I’m sure was a beautiful, heartfelt Logan speech because he is romantic AF, but I can’t really remember what he said because I blacked out a little bit. Typical. But I do remember him saying, “Will you marry me?” and I said yes. Twice for good measure.
THEN I GOT SOME BLING. I don’t typically like rings, but I was very much into this one.
We classily made out for a little bit in the wake of the actual proposal (this was sort of awkward given the kneeling/Indian style thing) before Logan pointed out that there was a photographer paparazzi-ing us. His buddy, “Danny from Craigslist,” was taking “some tight proposal shots for us.” I was very shocked by this, but TG he captured all this shit!!
Danny said he would give us a few minutes alone, at which point Logan popped a bottle of champagne and handed me a manila envelope. Inside were several documents: a note, the first email he sent to my best friend after we met, and finally…a Paris itinerary. I thought it was for Thanksgiving (we had been talking about going then), but it was for that Friday through Tuesday. Needless to say, this was a lot to process, and I had so many questions. SO MANY QUESTIONS, DAMMIT!!
The next fifteen minutes were incredibly revealing. Logan had flown to Santa Barbara in JUNE to ask my dad’s permission to propose. (He’d told me he was at a conference.) He met my mom for drinks the week before to ask for her blessing as well. (The Dude had come home very drunk that night after saying that he was at drinks with a friend.) He had given Fifi and my girls a heads up, and my friend Annabel had helped him with the ring. When it came to the sick “engagement blanket,” Logan had apparently “hammered a lot of Etsy ladies” until he found Karen, who agreed to execute his very specific vision. He admitted that he’d had to be rather hard on her to make sure she got it exactly right. (For some reason, I’m picturing Logan as Ben Stiller in Billy Madison and Karen as the old lady at the nursing home. “My fingers hurt.”) Again, there was so much to process! I was mildly alarmed by the level of deception involved, sure, but I was also so impressed, and elated, and in love with Logan that I sort of blacked out again.
Next, Logan said that he was taking me to drinks at The Clock Tower and then to dinner at Café Cluny, which was where we went on our first real date. So, we let Danny take some prom proposal photos of us before heading downtown as fiancés.
I thought the surprises were done—there had already been so many!—but when we walked upstairs at the bar, our closest friends were all there waiting for us. That’s when the tears came, people. This alarmed many, since I prefer to cry alone, and most of my friends have only seen me cry once or twice in my life, but I couldn’t help it. SO MANY FEELINGS. In case you were wondering, the first words out of my mouth were, “I’m really glad I showered today.”
I did a lot of hugging and crying over the next hour or so, and I have to say, as much as I thought I’d want privacy right after a proposal, being around all of my favorite people was the absolute best surprise ever. There was an overwhelming amount of love and support in that room, and I will always be grateful that Logan takes planning so seriously. He is truly a unicorn of a man.
My fiancé and I eventually left our friends and went to dinner, where we drank more champagne, ate things I don’t remember, and were generally smug and in love. Then I started crying again around dessert (emotionssss!), so we had to leave. Whateva.
Come Friday afternoon, Logan whisked me away to Paris, where we visited my old haunts, drank and ate all of my favorite things, and walked anywhere and everywhere we could. We made it to the Hemingway Bar on our last night, and Logan ordered the “Serendipity” cocktail, which was so fucking delightful and Parisian that I knew it would be the perfect celebratory recipe to accompany this insanely long and self-indulgent post.
Mint, apple brandy, cider, and champagne may seem like a slightly odd combo, but you’re going to have to trust me here, friends. The flavor is fruity and refreshing with just the right amount of sparkle, and it makes for a lovely autumn aperitif. I hope you’ll drink one with someone you love.
Crazy Engaged Blog Lady
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