by Ryan Conner
Karley Osborn is a bride-to-be living in Plano. Her fiancé proposed in March. They’re getting married in July. No, she’s not crazy, and yes, she’s confident she will be able to order a dress and have it triple-fitted in plenty of time — no matter what the experts have to say about it. Karley also happened to intern for D Magazine and work as a social reporter with People Newspapers. Every Wednesday, she’ll be documenting her planning process. From flowers to fittings, she will use her first-hand experience to help other brides in the event of a last-minute love affair.
A week and a half post-proposal, I’m thinking most brides-to-be are doing things like smiling, fielding phone calls, smiling more, and doing their best to avoid taking excessive glances at their ring finger while driving home from work (dangerous, but that engagement ring is sooo pretty when it catches some steering wheel sun). I can relate — but in the midst of all the happy butterflies, I’m also scrambling to throw a thousand color-cake-and-china-plate pins on a brand new Pinterest board, book an engagement shoot, schedule dress appointments, interview wedding planners, and order invitations (not to mention, um, script an entire ceremony). Did I say anything about bridesmaids, shower dates, or registries? That should all be in the mix, too.
You just got engaged! Enjoy it!
Yes, I did. And trust me, I am! But we’ve also decided to get married in July (along with, apparently, everyone else on the planet). Which means, as my fiancé said while looking over my shoulder at a timeline in the latest issue of D Weddings: “We’re like, a year behind.”
Tell me about it.
The good news: He was so worth the wait, and marrying him is so worth the rush. A shorthand version of our story is after the jump. Read it, and I think you’ll see why we decided to say “we will” to pressing fast-forward to “I do.”
Fiancé and I attended the same church growing up — in fact, we have pictures taken together at a pumpkin patch when we were just two years old. But in the third grade, Fiancé’s family moved away, and our families lost touch.
We stayed out of touch until the summer of 2011, when Fiancé’s dad moved back to Dallas for a work opportunity. We went to see the Rangers play together, and Fiancé and I talked all the way to and from the game. But he lived in North Carolina. And I was moving to France to work as an au pair for a few months. Big things were coming up in both of our lives, so we decided we would just pray for each other from afar.
The next summer, my dad invited Fiancé’s family to meet up with us for a few days while we were on vacation in Hilton Head. Minus the overseas praying, Fiancé and I hadn’t really kept in close contact. It could have been awkward. It wasn’t. I couldn’t stop looking at him over the dinner table that first night. “You’re obvious,” I told myself. “Stop being obvious.” I couldn’t. The next day, he sat down next to me on the beach. “Don’t come on too strong,” he told himself. “Play it cool.” He couldn’t. We started talking, and for three days, we didn’t stop.
“I hate goodbyes,” he said on our last day at the beach. “So I’ll just say see you later.”
Later turned out to be six months. During that time, Fiancé and I wrote to each other weekly. I sent him a care package around the time of his birthday. He sent me a card at Thanksgiving. He was always so encouraging, always so friendly. And although he never asked for my phone number, his family did invite mine to rent a cabin with them in Tennessee for New Years.
A week of late-night conversation led to this: He was convinced I just wanted to be friends. I was sure he’d gotten tired of writing me a long time ago. As it turned out, we were both just plain in love. Even though he still didn’t have my phone number.
Just two months later — after finally popping the “can I get your number” question — Fiancé proposed. In four months, he’ll change his name to Husband (and we’re getting married in Hilton Head, where it all began). So, fellow brides-on-the-fly, take heart! You are not crazy (no matter what all those, ahem, helpful bridal consultants may lead you to believe).
Let the planning (and pinning) begin.