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JULY 2018 VOGUE.COM VOGUE.COM JULY 2018 37``````and negotiating with the Iranians on how to implementthe controversial nuclear deal. At home, we never stoppedtalking, debating everything from the morality of dronewarfare to the viability of a universal basic income to how thefirst woman nominee for president from a major U.S. partyshould make her case to the nation. YJ recited Shelley andTennyson by heart, made me dance with her in the kitchenwhenever Pitbull came on the radio, and taught me to loveKenny Chesney. But there never was any doubt: Marriagewas out of the question.##### There was one time we came close. We were onvacation with friends in France’s DordogneValley, and the two of us took a long bikeride through fields of sunflowers. When westopped for a break, I went into my bag andcame out with a baguette, some cheese, anda small jewelry box. A look of terror crossed YJ’s face. Was Iabout to ruin everything? Slowly she opened the box. Reliefflooded over her when she saw a pair of silver earrings I hadpicked up on a work trip to Vietnam. Everything was rightwith the world again.Then came the heartbreak of November 2016. The out-come of the presidential election meant a lot of good peoplewere going to be deported or lose their health care or sufferdiscrimination and abuse. YJ and I didn’t have to face any-thing like that. But the life we had anticipated disappearedin an instant. We had hopedto buy a house in Washington,get new jobs in Hillary’s WhiteHouse, and do the most import-ant work of our lives. YJ was justas crushed as I was. She had dis-covered a real passion for foreignpolicy. She loved the high stakes,the exotic travel, and the feeling of being part of somethingbigger than herself. Now she would have to say goodbye toall that and watch as the new administration retreated fromthe world, including the Iran nuclear deal she had workedso hard to implement.We decided we had to get out of D.C. YJ found a job basedin Los Angeles selling superfast “hyperloop” trains to foreigngovernments that let her put her diplomatic experience touse and allowed us to start over in a new city. I spent my timetraveling back and forth from L.A. to Chappaqua, New York,so I could help Hillary write another memoir, this time aboutthe 2016 campaign. We stayed up late around her kitchentable, trying to make sense of what had happened. It waswrenchingly painful but ultimately cathartic.So was living in Southern California. YJ and I hiked inthe canyons, lay on the beach, grew bougainvillea on ourporch, and made pesto from scratch. We said to each otherthat living well was the best revenge.In September, after Hillary’s book was published, YJand I headed to our friends’ wedding in Italy. The beautifullittle seaside town of Amalfi was full of former campaigncolleagues and old D.C. friends. Like us, they were all tryingto find new ways to be happy in a world that felt upside down.``````When it was over, YJ and I took the train to Rome for a fewdays alone. One morning she surprised me by saying that shewanted to arrange our day. (Normally I’m the one who makesthe itineraries.) She planned a picnic in the Villa Borghesegardens and led me through the Berninis and Caravaggiosin the Villa Borghese. In the evening, we went to a concertof Beethoven and Rossini at the old American-expat churchSt. Paul’s Within the Walls and dinner in Trastevere. In thetrattoria, a boisterous Italian family that had just come froma wedding was holding court, with the bride still in her dressand the priest sitting at the head of the table and smoking.After dinner, YJ and I walked hand in hand through theancient streets. This wasn’t the life we’d expected, but it feltright. Then she pulled me into the side-street and pausedunder a vine-covered trestle. When I turned around, itseemed as though she was tying her shoe. But YJ lookedup and, from one knee, said very seriously, “Can I ask yousomething? Will you marry me?” Was this a joke? “Ofcourse,” I said, laughing. She kissed me, and I realized itwasn’t a joke at all.How did the woman who never wanted to get marrieddecide to propose? Part of it was going through the up-heaval of the election and learning that we could weatherdisappointment together—that being together was, in fact,the only way to do it. Part of it was moving to Californiaand starting a new life. Paradoxically, it wasn’t until eventsupended our plans that she finally felt in control of her owndestiny. And, she figured, maybeif we bent our lives back the otherdirection, back toward happiness,we’d grow up straight.Of course she also loved thetheater of it. She relished thechance to invert convention.Why should men always be theones to propose in heterosexual relationships? Most of usno longer think of marriage as a transaction between fatherand husband, in which the woman is handed from one formof servitude to another. Surveys have found that a majorityof Americans are OK with the idea of women proposing, in-cluding, in one study, most men. Yet it happens in only about5 percent of marriages. YJ believed this was an idea whosetime had come. If society expects women to do everythingthat men do, then why not this?When I got over my surprise, I was thrilled. And while Istill wasn’t going to change my last name, I offered to addhers as a new middle name. (The jury’s out on whether she’llreciprocate.) After waiting so many years, we decided to movequickly. So just two months later, the day after Thanksgiving,we took our families on our favorite hike in Malibu, and on abluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, we got married. It wasa simple ceremony, but I loved every minute of it.“Growing up, I felt so limited in my options,” YJ said as partof her vows, fighting back tears. “I wish I had known back thenhow incredibly my life would turn out. I wish I could tell myyounger self not to fear; nothing would hold me back. I couldbe independent, delay marriage, travel the world—and have apartner by my side encouraging me every step of the way.”Up Front Marry Me?She even hated going toweddings. The idea of havingher own was out of the question