Forever Asking: A Journey of Love and Proposals

I gazed at her for a few seconds before saying, "Why don't you propose to me this time?"

"Me?" she asked, eyes wide in surprise.

"Why not?" I asked. "What's wrong with that?"

She blushed and replied, "No."

The first time I proposed to her, we were six.

"I'll be the husband," I said, "and you'll be the wife."

"No way," she replied curtly.

"But why not?" I insisted.

"Just no," she said again and walked away.

A moment later, I also left. There was no fun playing alone in the house.

The second time I proposed to her, we were fourteen.

We were dance partners at the school's annual ball, and I was waiting for her outside the dressing room. I was in a black suit with a bow tie. When she stepped out in her knee-length pink dress, I took a deep breath. She looked like an angel descended from heaven.

As we waited for the signal from the teacher to go on stage, I stared at her, trying to muster the courage to speak. She caught my gaze and smiled, "Hey, what are you looking at?"

"Will you marry me?" I blurted out.

Her smile widened, and a few seconds later, she burst into laughter. I didn't mind. I saw stars in her eyes. Still laughing, she took my hand and led me onto the stage.

The third time I proposed to her was on her sixteenth birthday.
We went on a picnic with friends, and the two of us sat together under a tree while the others argued about the next game. She laughed at something someone said in the distance. Her voice sounded like bells ringing. I picked a wild daisy growing near me, handed it to her, and said, "Will you be my wife?"

She blushed, looked at the flower, and then burst into laughter again. She took the flower and ran back to our friends. I followed her.

The fourth time, we were eighteen.

We were sitting in a café on campus, she sipping orange juice and talking about a beautiful poem she had just read. After speaking for a few minutes, she paused and asked, "What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?"

I looked into her eyes and said, "I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?" As before, she laughed and said, "You're not old enough to get married." Then she started talking about another poem.

The fifth time I proposed to her was at our graduation.

We were both twenty-one. I knelt on one knee, holding a red rose, and said, "Will you let me be your husband now?"

This time she laughed silently and replied, "You're always in such a hurry. Don’t you want to continue your studies?"

I shrugged, stood up, and walked with her into the auditorium.

Four years later, I completed my postgraduate studies and landed a job at a multinational company.

We were sitting together in an ice cream parlor when she brought up the past. "It's been four years since you last proposed," she said. "What's going on? Have you changed your mind?" She smiled broadly.

"What do you think?" I teased.

"I think you're afraid I'll reject you again."

"You've never really rejected me, not even once," I protested.

 "You've never actually said no."

"I did when we were six," she reminded me.

"She remembers," I thought, smiling at the memory. I scooped a spoonful of ice cream for her and said, "Alright, so you did reject me once."

"So what?" she said, tasting the ice cream I offered.

"So, nothing," I replied.

She blinked in silence, no longer smiling.

"Hey," I asked, "do you think I've changed?"

She frowned, "I don't know." She looked adorable, even when frowning.

I gazed at her for a few seconds before saying, "Why don't you propose to me this time?"

"Me?" she asked, eyes wide in surprise.

"Why not?" I asked. "What's wrong with that?"

She blushed and replied, "No."

"Are you rejecting me again?" I asked.

"No, no," she said quickly.

"So that means you're saying yes?"

She stuck her tongue out at me, realizing what I was trying to do, and went back to her ice cream.

"Hey," I said, taking her hand. "Marry me."

She wrinkled her nose and asked, "Are you sure?"

I had been sure since I was six. "Yes," I replied firmly.

She simply smiled and nodded.

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