it was the night of our one year anniversary, and i had my novel writing class until 10. the bolshvik met me outside and tried to whisk me away to a late-night outdoor milkshake shop. this didn't work out. so i led us to a fancy hotel with a bar on the roof. we got overpriced cocktails and reclined on a trendy bed-like couch. we looked out at the skyline, and realizing we were out of our price range for another round, we went to veselka for pierogies and blintzes.
the next day i had off from work so we spent the day in the bronx zoo, walking around and looking at animals and being silly. then we took a bus to city island and went to a restaurant with big windows overlooking the harbor. we ate seafood and drank wine and cocktails. and that dear blog readers is when it happened.
no he did not propose to me. c'mon now.
the bolshevik looked at me with earnest eyes and said that he loved me, and that as much as he loved traveling, he hated being in amazing exotic far off places without me (hated may not be the word he chose to use). it was no fun, he said.
and then he looked into my eyes and asked, "will you run away with me?"
and let me tell you dear blog readers, when bolsheviks ask you to run away with them the answer is yes. the answer is always yes.
me and my man ... like two red pandas in a tree