I met my husband-to-be seven years ago when we were both working as sous-chefs in an Italian restaurant in New York City. He says it was love at first sight, but I resisted for a while because I had just ended a relationship with an Italian guy and had decided they were all cocky… and not in a good way!
At work, nobody really knew I was gay, nor did they suspect Luca was either. We just did our jobs and sort of kept to ourselves although our boss later said that he had known all along, even when he hired us. He said he had a sixth sense about “those things”.
Anyway, when I finally gave Luca a chance and accepted his dinner invitation, I quickly realized he was nothing like Dante, my ex, and started thinking that he could be The One. I have to admit that I hadn’t had much luck in the long-term relationship department and had pretty much thrown in the towel, thinking I would just spend the rest of my life going from one one-night-stand to the next until I became one of those poor, old dudes that hang around the bath houses with… everything hanging, basically.
So, Luca turned out to be everything I was looking for in a mate, a partner. He quickly moved in with me and we got our own place a few months later. That’s when we started talking about going into business together. I’d inherited a little money from my grandmother and his father had offered to lend him dough if he wanted to start his own business so, less than a year into our relationship, we quit the restaurant to start our own catering company which really took off instantly. We are still going strong and now have five full-time employees and an Italian caffè in Greenwich Village.
Last year, on our five-year anniversary, I proposed to Luca. It was a small, intimate thing while we were vacationing in Jamaica. It was really romantic and beautiful. Some might say it was kind of corny and cliché, but hey! Making love on the beach and finding an engagement ring at the bottom of a champagne glass while the sun is setting into the ocean never gets old. And no, he didn’t swallow the ring and I wasn’t forced to Heimlich him back to life! He just got sweetly emotional and said “yes” and that was that.
So, when we got back to New York, my fiancé – I love that word – decided we needed to make it (even more) official by having an engagement party and inviting all our friends and family.
“All our friends and family?”, I thought to myself. I mean, that is a lot of people. Did I mention Luca is Italian? I did, didn’t I? Talk about a huge family! From his two nonnas down to his thirteen nieces and nephews, that’s over twenty people without counting the aunts and uncles, cousins and their children!
But I think they are great so I said, “sure, why not?” and my hubby-to-be started jumping up and down, clapping his hands like a six-year-old girl waiting for her first present on Christmas morning.
That was the first sign that my Superman would soon turn into Groomzilla.
If you want to know what happened with Groomzilla next, you shouldn’t miss the chance to read our next part of the story When Superman turns into Groomzilla.
To be continued…
