A funny thing happens when people find out you are engaged: that’s the first thing anyone wants to talk about. The old Monday morning small talk question “How was your weekend?” has been replaced by “So, have you set a date yet?”

People — women especially — beam and bounce, and in some cases, squeal while excitedly sharing wedding planning advice, or their own ideas of a dream wedding. You get introduced to people as “newly engaged” as though you just won an Oscar, or discovered the cure for cancer or something. It feels a bit like being welcomed into a cult or at least the Smug Marrieds Society.^*

Don’t get me wrong: I want to marry Jason. He brings kid-on-Christmas style joy and laughter to my life. He challenges me to be happy — which is very hard for me — without me feeling like I am dependent on him for it. I feel loved and supported in ways I thought unimaginable. And I have a deeper level of admiration, respect, and affection for him than I have ever had for anyone. I want to have a lifetime worth of adventures and fulfill dreams with him.

But squealing glee? People, calm. the fuck. down. For us, life is the same as it ever was. I just have something extra sparkly on my left hand on that finger to the right of my pinky.

Marriage was not a life goal for either of us. It’s something that happened, quite unexpectedly, because we each found someone we wanted to keep around.

* If you see either of us exhibit symptoms of being a Smug Married, you have my permission to slap us both.

My relationship with The Intended is the first time I have ever been in a relationship with a man whose self-interest is not in direct conflict with looking out for my best interests.

— What I said to myself just now.

I am incredibly thankful that JT is in my life because he genuinely cares about me.

I learned this lesson the hard way. I blogged about my breakup that started in February 2007, here, on Vox, and on Yahoo! 360. This was shortly before SXSW 2007.

Blogging was cathartic for me. But it also put my ex on blast, and opened us both up to a lot of questions about why we were splitting. I distinctly remember having uncomfortable conversations at SXSW about what was happening, especially since most of my SXSW crew had met the ex at SXSW 2006. The ex was also drilled by his rather large circle of friends and acquaintances.

I even argued with the ex about whether and where I should blog — Vox was the community where my peoples played; Yahoo! 360 was where his friend’s stayed, though I was connected to his friends there. If I had to blog, he wanted to know, why did I have to blog there and not where my friends were?

It made an uncomfortable situation worse — more for him than for me (win!) — but I decided that I’d rethink being so public about relationships in the future.

Then came Twitter, which, thanks to its ambient intimacy, made staying involved in my friend’s lives a lot easier. Even though we were, in some cases, separated by 2,100+ miles and three time zones, we still had this wonderful sense of connection.

SXSW 2008, then, was markedly different. I didn’t need to catch up on what was happening with my friends. We could just enjoy some real-world face time. I felt my online friendships slowly melting into offline ones.

One friendship in particular had changed in a palpable way. After some Twitter conversations, surprising dreams, and a series of private-plurks, I found myself on a plane to Los Angeles for Labor Day Weekend.

First and foremost, our trip was about seeing each other and having fun as friends. We have always had an easy way with each other, and some of the absolute best times I’ve had since 2005 — the year we met at SXSW — have involved him.

But we also knew this was about a potential love thing shaped by, if not directly attributable, to Twitter and Plurk.

We both live our lives in the digital public, and are generally open about things. We also, however, have a sense of privacy and boundaries. This tension came out in weird ways, particularly around whether and what to tweet. Is it an innocent tweet, or a double-entendre? Do I mention our visit to Frederick’s of Hollywood? What about those hilarious one-liners that are almost too good not to share, but would reveal what we did and how?

Ultimately, we were both concerned with how things would be (mis)construed. And what kinds of intrusive questions would arise from those who know us, and those who think they know us?

And while I’m at it, what about us? I’m not sure I was ready to officially state what was up between us, even though our friends knew instinctively. What’s said offline and hinted at through a carefully-crafted, semi-private tweet is, still, in many ways, deniable. If things didn’t work out, the details would be obscured if not concealed.

But what’s expressed publicly and tagged with my name? That’s big. And brave. And Google-able. And cache-able. It’s a huge leap of faith in our friends, our acquaintances, and most of all, in whatever this is between us.

I’m also feeling a bit like a lame jacka** for missing out on quality face time with Christian, Ernie, Stephanie and Barb. I’m also bummed about not cashing in on a free drink promised by Sarah — though in fairness, all of the parties had open bars.

Eventually I am going to sit down with my notes and recap some sessions / riff on some thoughts I had while in these sessions so my employer doesn’t think that drinking Tito’s and tequila was the only thing I did in Texas. But for now, I’m still basking in and celebrating the love.