Mexico. Combine that with my big Mexican family, and it was a great test to see how Lizzy would
respond around us. The day that I picked her up, I got dressed up, did my hair, put a little cologne on,
and drove to the host family’s house. I arrived around sunset and waited out front with my cool black
Spy shades on, leaning on the hood of my newly washed, cherry red 1987 BMW. I was laying it on thick.
We joined the rest of my family and piled into one of our big white church vans. They were crazy and
loud as usual. Lizzy didn’t even blink.
She’s perfect.
After our unofficial date to Olvera Street, we didn’t talk or see each other much. The last time we did
talk was before she left to Bolivia for the second part of her study abroad term. We exchanged email
addresses and said we would keep in touch. However, we didn’t. In fact, I actually started dating
someone that summer. I can’t really explain why I did this, other than wanting to test the strength of my
feelings for Lizzy. After going on a few dates with this new girl, my feelings for Lizzy were stronger than
ever. After our third (and final) date, I told the girl the truth about my feelings for Lizzy. She was gracious
and thanked me for my honesty. That night, I sent my first email to Lizzy.
I sent an email to her once a week, every Sunday night, for the rest of her time in Bolivia. My last email
to her was a week before she was due to return to the U.S. In it, I said, “When you get back, I would like
to take you out… alone.”
She casually responded, “Okay, that sounds great.” I think I even offered to pick her up from the airport.
I wasn’t going to give any other guys a chance to get involved!
The week after she returned, I took her on our first date to a restaurant called Onami for sushi. We had
a great time. We talked every night after that, late into the almost morning. We alternated visiting each
other in Azusa, where she lived, and in Carson, where I lived with my parents. After one such visit to her
apartment, as I was leaving, I stopped in the doorway. I saw her roommate Lisa in the background, and
she, sensing that this was a private moment, slipped away into the kitchen. Looking deeply into Lizzy’s
eyes, I said, “I like you a lot.” I felt like Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber. Even so, she smiled and said, “I
like you, too.” Then, we had our first kiss.
Over the next nine months, we spent every spare minute we had together. She started coming to our
family church, and she came to my first football game as a coach. We were in love. Secretly, I was saving
up my pennies for an engagement ring. I had even talked to her sister about the type of ring Lizzy would
like. Without her knowing, I took her parents to dinner while they were visiting from Seattle. After some
appetizers and small talk, I said, “The real reason I brought you here is to ask you for your daughter’s
hand in marriage.” They chuckled, undoubtedly at my awkwardness of my abrupt shift in our
conversation. Bob, Lizzy’s dad, looked at me with a big smile on his face and asked, “What took you so
long?”
After getting her father’s blessing, everything felt settled. A few months later, in June, I took Lizzy to our
favorite restaurant, El Torito, at the Redondo Beach pier. I was so nervous I barely touched my food. I
was trying to time up the sunset, which usually lasts for quite a while in southern California. But, on this
night, I noticed it was diving down quickly into the Pacific Ocean. I made sure we left the restaurant as
soon as possible, and I took her to Hermosa Beach, where we had one of our first dates. It was the place
I had made up my mind that I was going to marry her. We had had so much fun laughing and playing in