34. hold my hand

While planning our NY weekend over the phone, Boy had told me to keep Saturday open for him exclusively. My only clues were that we’d have to be out and about by 8.30am and that I should dress comfortably but would probably want to look pretty.
I knew exactly what he had in mind: a Sex and the City bus tour! Beautiful Boy knew that it was Carrie and the girls who got me through the long nights when we were far apart, and though it would probably be a bit boring for him, he was sacrificing his Saturday in NYC just for me. What a honey! I pretended not to crack the code and feigned anticipation at finding out what the surprise would be.

We took Lala and Danny to dinner at Tony’s on Friday night and got to bed early to be ready for our Saturday morning. By 8.45 we were on the street, coffee in hand, umbrella in the other, as it was absolutely pouring! The wet added a bit of a challenge to my planned summer dress, but I decided to just add boots and go for broke. I was having balancing issues though. Somehow I couldn’t handle walking through the crowds, the boho bag on my shoulder, the coffee cup and the umbrella at the same time. How do New Yorkers do it? Respect.

Boy kept asking me if I’d prefer to get a cab, but it sounded so romantic to be walking hand-in-hand through the streets of NYC in the rain, I didn’t take him up on the offer. Even though taking a sip of coffee seemed impossible without spilling or burning my tongue or dropping the umbrella or my bag sliding down and pulling the cup away, spilling some more coffee everywhere! And my suede boots were taking a beating in the puddles and my legs were wet and my hair was frizzing and I was getting a bit hungry and… ugh! I was not handling the walk very well.

Meanwhile Boy was trying to hold my hand and telling me how he loved me and how good we were together and was I truly as happy as he felt and was I ready to really be with him and I’m thinking, in five minutes we’ll get to the tour bus or the Boathouse and we’ll sit down out of the driving rain without crowds and cups and umbrellas and boho bags and then, my dear sweet wonderful Beautiful Boy I’ll hold your hand. I’ll tell you in a hundred ways how well I’m loved and how vast my love for you has grown in no time at all. I’ll tell you exactly how perfectly we fit together and how I’m happier than anyone else on this earth. I’ll tell you how I’m already closer to you than I’d ever been to another man and that I’m so ready to remain this close to you forever and ever.

We were about to cross 7th Avenue when Boy stopped to tie his shoelace. I was still quite consumed with the business of staying relatively dry while balancing the cup and the bag, but I did have the presence of mind to notice that Boy’s shoe didn’t have any laces. That was weird. He seemed to be down there for a long time too and the crowds were surging and retreating around us as the lights changed and then he looked up at me with a little bit of apprehension and he asked me if I would marry him.