Valentine's Day is often filled with love, surprises, and unforgettable moments. This is a true story of how one man proposed to his girlfriend in public, in a different language, and the events that followed. Valentine's Day has a way of becoming a guaranteed memory jogger, and this story is no exception.
It was a crisp, clear winter evening on Tuesday, February 14, 1995. I did something that many would consider unthinkable—I proposed marriage. To clarify, it wasn't unthinkable to me, but to my family, friends, and colleagues, it was a shock. I had been a bachelor for thirteen years, and people had grown accustomed to that. My last serious relationship had ended abruptly, leaving everyone, including myself, in disbelief. Life moved on, and while others adapted to my single status, I never truly did. I had merely adjusted. Despite the advantages of being single, there was always a lingering sense of incompleteness. The truth is, I thrive in a committed, one-on-one relationship.
A few weeks earlier, a circular went around my workplace announcing a St. Valentine's Day dinner-dance. The price was reasonable, and drinks were included. I was skeptical, thinking it might only cover the first drink, but it turned out to be true. You could drink all evening, although strong liquors were not available. I decided it would be a delightful evening out and an exciting experience for my Swedish girlfriend, who had only been in England for a little over four weeks. I bought two tickets, with no initial intention of proposing.
The idea of proposing came to me just a few days before the event. I kept it a secret, not mentioning it to anyone. By the day of the dinner-dance, I had not only decided to propose but also planned to make it a memorable event. The relationship was only a few months old, and some might think I was being rash. My plan involved getting the disc jockey to call my girlfriend up on stage, where I would propose to her in Swedish. The thought of her saying "no" never crossed my mind; I was that confident in our relationship.
The evening was lovely. The meal exceeded our expectations, and the drinks flowed freely. There was music, dancing, and excellent company, creating a wonderful atmosphere. At the height of the evening, I made an excuse to leave our table. Watching from a distance, I saw the DJ stop the music and call out Katarina's name. She was shocked and puzzled, but eventually made her way to the stage. With about 150 people watching, the DJ explained that I had something to say in Swedish. I went down on one knee and asked, "Vill du blir gift med mej?" Katarina later told me the correct phrase was "Vill du gifta dig med mej?" but my version was understandable. She said yes, and we became formally engaged on February 14, 1995.
We married later that year on October 7 at the Bradford register office. Thirteen years later, we are still happily married. We often wonder if anyone from that evening remembers the antics of the "crazy Englishman" who proposed in public. But as Cupid would say, "Love's like that, and my arrows take no prisoners."
One advantage of getting engaged on Valentine's Day is that it's impossible to forget the anniversary. This year, my wife has promised a private, candle-lit dinner at home. She loves cooking and enjoys creating something special for Valentine's Day. I have no doubt that my talented Swedish bride will prepare a Valentine's specialty that surpasses anything I could imagine. Yes, I am indeed a very lucky man, and Cupid's arrow is still firmly lodged in my heart.
Valentine's Day is a day of love and surprises, and for me, it will always be a reminder of the night I took a leap of faith and proposed to the love of my life.
