No life

Winning way

Toby Young

Well, I did it. On 21 April I proposed to my girlfriend.

As regular readers of this column will know, I moved back from New York at the end of January to live with Caroline on a three-month 'trial basis'. At the beginning of April — three weeks before the proba- tionary period was due to end — she very sweetly told me I'd 'passed', though she refused to get engaged. Indeed, she wouldn't even agree to become engaged to be engaged. All she was consenting to, she made clear, was to carry on living with me for the foreseeable future.

Up until this point, I'd simply put my life in New York on hold. I didn't want to give up my apartment if I was going to end up back there in three months. However, after Caroline gave me the thumbs-up, I set about moving back permanently and, to that end, I flew over to New York last week to attend a leaving party that some friends were throwing for me. It was on the eve of my departure that I decided to propose.

My reason for asking at this particular moment was so that, in the unlikely event of her saying 'yes', I could make an announcement at the party. That way, I wouldn't look like such a loser for initially agreeing to return to London on such unfavourable terms. Ever since last Jan- uary, my friends in New York have been teasing me mercilessly about the fact that I've turned my life upside down for a girl who, until three weeks ago, wasn't pre- pared to commit to me for longer than three months. Taki, for instance, branded me a traitor to my sex for being such a wimp. If only I could announce that she'd agreed to marry me, I thought, I might not look so pathetic after all.

I chose to pop the question at Le Caprice on Good Friday. As far as I'm con- cerned, Le Caprice is London's ultimate `result' restaurant and I needed all the help I could get. Among other things, I didn't have a ring.

I've proposed to Caroline once before, on 1 January, and on that occasion I did have a ring but I'd got hold of it on a sale- or-return basis and, after she'd said 'no', I'd returned it. (It was after this that she'd suggested we live together on a 'trial basis'.) I didn't think I could get it back again for a second attempt.

In the event, the absence of a ring was the least of my worries.

`The only reason you want to get engaged,' she said, 'is so you can make an announcement at your leaving party.'

I assumed an expression of horror.

`Don't be absurd,' I replied. 'I want to get engaged because I love you.'

She didn't buy it. Eventually, I conceded she was half right: my reason for wanting to get engaged at this particular juncture was in order to save face, but that wasn't why I wanted to many her.

`So why d'you want to marry me?' she asked.

`For proper, non-cynical reasons,' I replied.

She stared at me incredulously.

`That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard,' she said.

Having missed my cue once, I wasn't about to miss it again. For the next 45 min- utes I tried to explain exactly why I wanted to marry her. I loved her. I wanted to have children with her. I wanted to grow old with her. After I'd exhausted the clichés, I attempted to dig a little deeper: it was something to do with the feeling of calm I had whenever I was with her. I first met Caroline when she was seven and I was 18, but it's as though I've known her all my life. The happiness I feel in her company is the pure, unaffected happiness of child- hood. Somehow, through Caroline, I can return to a place I thought was lost to me long ago; when I'm with her, no matter where I am, I feel I've come home.

She said she'd think about it.

The following morning, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, going over all the things I had to do in New York, when Caroline mumbled something in what I took to be her sleep. `What was that, darling?' I asked, gently Pushing her hair away from her mouth so I could hear her more clearly. She opened her eyes and looked at me. `Okay,' she said. It was the romantic thing I've ever heard.