A JOURNEY TO FOREVER

I always thought I knew exactly how I would propose.There was a plan—New York City, Valentine's Day, everything mapped out the way I like things to be. I'm a planner by nature. I like intention, timing, and moments that feel pristine. But Alicia has a way of rewriting my plans in the best possible way.

One random day, with absolutely zero intention of proposing, we were out at Flowing Tide for dinner and drinks. We were play fighting, laughing, just being us. Afterward, I started giving her a hard time about dessert—because I really wanted it and she very much did not. What followed was us running around the parking lot like children, going back and forth, poking fun at each other, laughing way too hard over something so small. That's Alicia—she brings out my inner child, and that has always warmed my heart more than anything.

I refused to take her home without dessert, so I started driving around Reno, just cruising. Alicia, meanwhile, was giving me a very loud Chappell Roan concert from the passenger seat. And somewhere during that drive, it hit me.

This is it.
This is the moment.

Here I was with my best friend, my partner, my everything—laughing, singing, completely present—and suddenly none of my careful plans mattered anymore. I didn't want “someday.” I wanted now. And what better place than Tahoe? I had been carrying the ring in my work backpack for a while, which was sitting in the back seat. So I turned the car toward Mount Rose and started heading up the mountain—worth mentioning that it was winter, icy, snowy, and definitely not an easy drive.

In the midst of all our play fighting earlier, Alicia realized she had lost a ring I'd gotten her in Virginia City. It wasn't expensive—it was a small moonstone ring with a triangular shape—but it meant something to us. I had pickpocketed it just because I could (sorry, Auntie), and when I told Alicia, she loved it even more. Now it was gone, and she was panicking.

So there we were: Alicia stressed about a lost ring, me driving up an icy mountain, thinking about how ironic and perfect it all felt.

Somehow, on that snowy drive, I managed to get the engagement ring out of my backpack and into my pocket. I pulled over more than halfway up Mount Rose, into a quiet snowy clearing—trees, snow, a beautiful view, and not another soul around. Alicia was still focused on finding the lost ring.

I played along. I got out of the car, pretended to search, and then I dropped down on one knee. At first, she thought I was messing with her. She said something along the lines of, “Oh my gosh, don't be a jerk.” It took about two seconds for her to realize that this wasn't the lost ring—and this wasn't a joke. This was real. She was shocked. She said yes. And in that quiet, snowy moment, everything felt exactly right. We never did find that lost ring. We still talk about it sometimes. But that day, we gained something so much more.

I went into that relationship believing moments had to be perfect and carefully planned. Alicia has taught me that sometimes the most meaningful things happen when you let go, embrace the chaos, and choose to be present when your heart tells you it's time.

And I wouldn't change a single thing.