Yesterday, I asked Nick to marry me. It's been pretty busy during the last week or so, so there hasn't been many posts. I also haven't done a lot of writing because this is my own little memoir that was only supposed to be as long as my travels were. However, there are times when I feel that I need to write something. This is one of those days. I've been on cloud nine since he said yes. I know that it's traditional for him to ask me, but I'm a little impatient and the big meeting a few days ago brought everything into perspective for me.
Harold Lauder decided to propose that all of the committee members should work on a more permanent basis, and Nick didn't turn it down. There was a part of me that felt (a little) like a fool because Nick has been telling me that he couldn't wait to get off of the council so he can spend time with me and Sophie. However, I can't say that I blame him because I know that he wants to make sure that Boulder is functioning properly. When we first got together and before then, his concern was for everyone, the people. So, I understand the logic and I hope that after some time, especially when it gets closer to having the baby, he'll ease off of the committee work to spend time with us.
(By the way, I hate Harold Lauder, and I can tell that he's not exactly fond of me. He probably thinks that I'm less than Fran Goldsmith, the object of his affection, but she's not with him, is she?)
You know the saying, "You can't make a whore into a housewife?" Well, I guess you can. Nick did. I know that I shouldn't call myself a whore, but I'm a realistic woman. I'm young and I had fun when I was single. I wasn't looking to commit to anyone, but things changed and I realized that it was time to roll with the punches or go insane in the midst of dead bodies somewhere between Wisconsin and Illinois. There were some things that I wish were different, some things that I wished never happened, but I think I learned from it and I'm better because of it. When it comes to sex and relationships, I'm done. No more casual sex or frivolousness. This is it: my first, last and only serious relationship. I love this man and I want to marry him. I would say that I wanted to carry his children, but I'm already doing that.
It's way past when I would normally go to sleep, but I'm floating and giggly. I have to tell someone, even if it's just me in this journal. Well, good night all.