The Universe is Real
We’d known each other for exactly one month before I moved 500 miles away to San Francisco.—Did you know San Francisco is always cold? I f*cking hate being cold.
Now, I’m trippin’ because the Universe totally knew this about me.
Universe said, “Hey Cha Cha, I don’t blame you for wanting to leave.”
It was another beautiful day in Encinitas. But who can enjoy a beautiful day when you’re getting kicked out of your apartment for the fifth time in two years?
This time, I was packing up for good. In thirty days, I was moving north to San Francisco.
Like a gal pal watching me pack, the Universe kept yapping. “I still can’t believe you got arrested! Sorry about that,” she said, trying to hold back a smile because all is well that ends well, right? “Plus, I know you miss living in a city.”
“I miss public transportation!” I interrupt the Universe with specifics. “Driving in traffic is torturous.”
“I love pubic transportation!” says the Universe. She understands. She supports me. But she has other plans.
“Oh by the way, Cha Cha,” she says,“Here’s a super smart, handsome and kind man who absoluely adores you. …I’m just going to leave this right here.”
The Universe is mocking me with a meme.
When It’s Love
My mother told me that Justin loved me before she even met him.
She and my dad were on their annual visit to California. We three were out to dinner when my father said, “So, how’s your social life?”
Grasping for my wine, I confessed, “Remember that guy from San Diego that I told you about last year?”
“Yesssss…?” They said in unison, their left eyebrows crooking up with interest. The Judgementalsteins are being careful not to judge too quickly.
I’m talking about me and Justin. …Are they rolling their eyes?
My mother and I make eye contact, and time stops just long enough for her eyes to say everything: Sh*t, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. But as long I’ve got you’re attention, whoa, Chach. That’s love.
That was… let’s see… October 2016.
In 2019, Justin drove us back to his home in San Diego, my San Francisco bedroom and random kitchen stuff packed into boxes, just barely fitting into the eight-foot bed of his pickup. We listened to the This is Enrique Iglesias playlist on Spotify for the entire eight-hour drive.
Since then, Justin and I have lived together. Our bobtailed cat, Copper Soup, came in October 2020.–Our home. Our family.
It was time. It was time?
Now we are engaged. He proposed! Twice.
This is real life, not the Bachelor. There is no perfect proposal. I cannot ask him to do it again, again.
The first time was in front of my family. To be honest, I wish it never happened. I wish he’d asked me in a private moment. Then we shared the news together.
After the weekend, I gave the ring back. I said, “Please, can you do it again? This time, make it a moment special just for us. I want you to look deep into my eyes. I missed it last time! My family was too distracting.”
I said to my fiance, “I need you to do it again.”
On Tuesday, I had a meltdown because he wasn’t going to propose that night either.
Suddenly he wants to take his time to plan something special. I am pissed because he blew that opportunity when he proposed in front of my family.—One week ago, I wasn’t in a hurry. But now, I can’t go back.
I feel awkward without my ring. I’ve changed. I tried to change back. But that’s impossible.
He loves me. He wants me to be happy.—He’s taking me to Baja, Mexico this weekend. I think he’s going to propose!
On Friday, we drive down to Mexico and arrive just in time for a sunset soak in a beachfront jacuzzi.
Saturday morning, my new FitBit tells me that I got a great night’s sleep. We are on the ninth floor, staying at a friend’s condo. I look out and see only the sea. The water calms me.
After breakfast in town, we return “home” for some Beef, the Ali Wong-staring Netflix show, while cuddling up in bed.
In the afternoon, we drove to Villa de Guadalupe, Baja’s wine country. We went to one place before The place.
The first winery was crowded on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. We sat in the sun and tasted three distinct whites. I loved our time there.
But I wish we got to second place earlier. Or that we had reservations. Next time we’ll know better.–I’ll know better.
At our table, I remove the mostly drunk bottle of white from my bag that we bought at the bottom of the hill while waiting for our reservation at the top. A server delivers two glasses. Justin orders a beer. We decide quickly on the shrimp appetizer.
The app was delicious. But messy, and hard to eat with the housemade chips that came with the dish. Why wasn’t the shrimp more diced?
I wish we had ordered another app. Something a little more carby. The ribeye came too fast. Or too slow?—I know there was wine.
After we ate, Justin popped the question.
He did not get down on one knee. But he did look into my eyes. If I could do it again, I’d tell him to do the knee part too. But I can’t do it again.
It was beautiful. Because this man loves me. I love him too.
Despues Me Preguntó
Entonces, me preguntó.
I didn’t expect it to feel so different. I feel open. I feel physically elevated to a new level. Of woman. Of union. Of family. Of life. Of love.
I feel girly and giddy. Feminine and horny.