The Engagement That Was Not: A Las Vegas Story

Let me preface this post by stating that I always ruin my own surprises. I assure you I am not exaggerating. A couple of years ago, I spoiled every one of my Christmas presents from Mr. Seal and it wasn't because I physically saw them—I'm just impatient and...figured them out. I am suspicious by nature, and have an innate sense of when someone is trying to surprise me or lie to me in an effort to throw me off track. I'm pretty sure if I were a superhero my superpower would be exposing secrets! Okaaay, that would be a pretty lame superpower, but that's the unfortunate talent I was born to bear.

In the following situation I promise I was trying my best to remain ignorant, but it wasn't made very easy...

The month was November of 2009. The place? Las Vegas. Mr S. and I, along with just about every other member of my family, were on vacation. He and I spent the first couple nights of the trip getting romantic—we wined and dined at fancy restaurants and attended the Wynn's Cirque du soleil-esque show Le Reve.

Mr. Seal on our walk to the Wynn:

We reconvened with the family on the third night. Daddy Seal, a musician, was playing at the Hard Rock Hotel and Mr. Seal suggested we spend some time with him before catching his show. While we were backstage, I excused myself to use the restroom returning to hear that my father and Mr. Seal would be back soon—this was obviously suspect, but I pretended to not notice.

When they returned, Daddy Seal turned to me, put his hand on my shoulder and announced (no lie!), "[Mr. Seal] has just asked for permission to ask you for your hand in marriage."

Silence.

I, absolutely shocked by this brazen disregard for secrecy, glanced at an equally bewildered Sealman and responded to my father with, "Uhhhhh...am I supposed to know that?"

Realizing that he had perhaps said too much, he said, "Oh. I don't know?"

The thing was, I did actually know that a proposal was coming. Mr. Seal and I had casually talked about marriage and I could tell things were getting extra serious—my spideysenses told me he was ready to "seal" the deal. And now, thanks to dad's silly slip-up, I could be outwardly excited. Right?! Well, maybe not.

After the concert, we decided to hit the casino with the family and have a few drinks. Mr. Seal was knocking them back more quickly than usual and I started to get a bit anxious. Given the evening's events, however, I knew I needed to cut him some slack...so I did.

It was on this night that Mr. Seal's intoxicated alter-ego "Bernie" was born. John-Michael, my little cousin/groomsman (in white and gray stripes below) and our friend Chris (also below), call Mr. S by the name Bernie because of basic arithmetic:

Personal photos/"Weekend at Bernie's" image source

So, while Bernie was stumbling around the casino floor, kissing people on the neck and declaring his love for everyone, I was awkwardly receiving comments like, "Congratulations! You're gonna get engaged!" Say what? That just sounds weird. Not expecting the emotions I experienced upon hearing these comments, I couldn't help but want to paraphrase Beyonce and say, "WHERE'S MY RING!?"

Don't get me wrong, I was THRILLED, but how do you celebrate something that, 1) hasn't happened yet and, 2) you're not technically supposed to know about?! I thought I would be relieved to not have to play dumb anymore...but I was wrong, and thus confused!

Here's Bernie, before he started dragging his legs around and involuntarily closing his eyes (he was clearly still on top of the world at this point):

Eventually, I was gifted the task of getting my nearly comatose (and nearly affianced) boyfriend back to our hotel. This involved a less than sober Miss Seal, a 10 minute cab ride, a long walk through our hotel's lobby and casino floor, and an elevator. The cabbie even asked us if we needed to have a wheelchair waiting at our hotel but thanks to a swift elbow jab in Mr. Seal's direction, this proved unnecessary.

The next morning, after my brain fully registered the previous evening's happenings (and my stomach digested the $100 worth of room service), I woke up excited—excited, yet fully aware that I was not engaged...yet. Now, all I had to do was wait and hope that I could keep my investigatory thoughts at bay. There was no way I was going to let my curse superpower destroy a girl's ultimate surprise!

Did you know your fiancé was going to ask you before he asked or was it a total surprise? Do you have a superpower too!?

Up Next: The ACTUAL Engagement

Kisses and Cuddles,

Miss Seal

(all personal photos unless otherwise stated)

The Eastern Influence: A Love Tale

So how did Mr. Seal and I meet? It's not an overwhelmingly amazing story, but it's our story nonetheless.

It all started in the Big Apple. Well, kind of. Mr. Seal and I didn't actually meet IN New York, but you'll see what I mean.

In April of 2008, I took a week-long vacation with Mama Seal to New York. We did lots of bargain shopping (Century 21? Yes please!) and ate lots and lots and lots of pizza. Prior to leaving California, I was in a noncommittal dating situation with a guy who had just moved from Manhattan—we'll refer to him as NY#2. This is really only important to take notice of my accidental affinity for all things New York.

Yours truly on the plane ride back home—completely unaware that only a few hours later I'd be meeting the New York born-and-raised man that I would marry!:

Back in California I, reluctantly, but fabulously decked out in my new (york) accessories, returned to my job as a Sales Executive for a major cable corporation (*I've since changed professions, but I'll save that boring story for later). Anyhow, I was told by my supervisor that if I needed any help while he was on lunch that we could ask the brand new lead who'd just transferred from our call center up north in Sacramento. This was great because I did, in fact, require assistance.

A mean lady was screaming at me over the phone because she wanted a deal on her cable that I had never heard of before. Much to the dismay of the already irate woman, the company I worked for at the time wasn't so keen on us setting up non-existent deals and I had no choice but to find the new lead to appease her.

And there was my Seal—my knight with a shiny headset to rescue me from the evil witch. I remember thinking he was cute, but it was once I heard that Brooklyn accent that I knew we were destined to be!

Alright, so maybe it wasn't that fast—truthfully, the Seals got off to a pretty slow start. Firstly because Mama Seal always said you're not supposed to date people at work—so I thought about that for a couple of minutes and then decided flirting was okay. Secondly, I poisoned myself with questioning doubt—was he into ME? Mr. Seal got a reputation for being a smooth operator and despite my equally flirtatious ways, I was kind of intimidated!

Oooh, and I forgot about NY#2. Like really. I forgot about him. So that settled that.

Anyway, it took Mr. Seal about two months of my eye-batting and playful banter to finally ask for my number. Channeling my inner Miss Gazelle, I had just run nearly eight miles at Bay-To-Breakers in San Francisco and came to work feeling unstoppable. Hoping to incite a bit of friendly competition, I told Mr. S that I could text faster than him. Taking the bait, he stopped to say, "Well how are we supposed to test this if I don't have your number?" Silly Seals! I must say, it's really quite fitting that our love story would begin with a competition.

We messaged for a few hours after work and I remember legitimately saying to myself that it was the best day of my life. Before you call me a super-creeper, please recall that I had managed to successfully run my first 12K earlier that day so I was also still high from that. It took us a few more months of texting, but we officially gave things a shot in September of 2008. And I have to note that I knew fairly early into the relationship that I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him.

A picture I took of the Sealman at work a few days after our texting competition (that gold chain around his neck has since been traded in for the diamond ring I wear on my left hand):

  

As a side note, while Mr. Seal and I were half-heartedly dating before becoming what I like to call "Facebook official" (because let's face it, a relationship is FAKE unless you're FB official), I read He's Just Not That Into You...which I can now say completely led me down the wrong path! That guy totally loves me.

And that, ladies and gents, is our little tale of L-O-V-E.

What about you guys? For me there was a sudden eastern influx that pointed me in Mr. Seal's direction—were there any "signs" for you?

XO,

Miss Seal 

(all personal photos)