Four years ago my single life ended when I popped the question to my boyfriend in a major Boston newspaper with this first sentence: "As I'm driving to work today, I'm thinking - I'm going to propose to my boyfriend tonight."

Why did I propose, you wonder? And why in a newspaper?

Because it was 1996, a Leap Year, and around the corner was Leap Day, February 29th (sometimes known as Sadie Hawkins Day). According to legend, it is the one day that women are "allowed" to propose to men. This whimsical tradition dates back to Ireland at the beginning of the last millennium, when priests and nuns were permitted to marry.

However, no one was pursuing the nuns. So Sister Brigid (now St Brigid) went to Father Patrick (now St Patrick) and lobbied for nuns to have the right to propose.

After listening to her argument, he agreed and made it "Leap Year, the longest of them all." Brigid promptly proposed to Patrick. However, he turned her down.

Despite Brigid's failed first attempt, the tradition continued. In 1288 it was codified with a law that read, in part: "For (eache) year known as lepe years, any maiden ladye of both highe and lowe estait shall hae liberte to bespeak ye man she like."

In 1992 I was single but marriage-minded. Inspired, I wrote an article promoting the holiday's purpose which the Boston Herald published.

"Find a man!" I preached. "Pop the question! This opportunity, like the Olympics, won't come around for another four years." I got a byline, a cheque, and a few laughs (even calls!) from readers. But no man.

The next year I met my Mr Right. We fell in love. I waited for him to pop the question. And waited. After 2 1/2 years of dating, I was tired of waiting.

"Why don't you take your own advice?" friends asked. I hesitated. Like most women, I had always envisioned the man asking for my hand in marriage. But it was 1996, another leap year, the last of the century. Why not recycle my first article and this time add a personal spin? My own proposal!

To my surprise, my newspaper accepted it. The story and proposal would be printed, however, one week earlier, as the February 29th opinion page was already filled. Now I had to propose.

As I wrote in my article, I made reservations at the restaurant where we had our first date. I could barely eat (unusually for me). When it came time for dessert, I gave him my copy of the article. He read the first sentence. Now he couldn't eat.

After he finished reading, he looked into my eyes.

"Well, I know my answer."

"What is it?"

"Well, you'll have to wait a week to find out."

"WHAT?"

"Read your article. You're the expert on Leap Day. When is it?"

"February 29th."

"What day is today?"

"February 22nd."

"That's right. So you'll have to wait a week and ask me again!" He was serious.

As we walked to the car he asked if I had bought him a ring. No, but I had a gift which I took from my car boot: a framed picture of a blue Victorian house, just like the one he lived in, surrounded with four children and their parents who looked like us. On the back, I wrote, "This can be your life, our life, if you say "yes' ".

The next day the story came out. Friends, family, even readers called! For a week we heard their wide-ranging opinions. "How could you?" "Why didn't he?" "Why didn't you just wait?" "I can't believe he's making you wait!"

Surprisingly, younger people balked, while older men and women thought it great. "Right on!" women said for me taking the initiative. "Right on!" men said for him not allowing me to reel him in.

Finally February 29th arrived. That night he proposed to me! No surprise since we held no role expectations as to who could or should do things, from cleaning to cooking to chopping wood. And now, proposing.

I said yes, he said yes. Seven months later, on September 29th, we were married. The following year on Christmas Eve, our daughter was born.

Four years later I can honestly say that I'm glad I took my own advice.

Single women today have control over their careers, cars and houses. Why should we not take control of the one most important aspect of our lives, our hearts?

Leaping for love should not be limited to men. Just ask our daughter - Brigid.

Kathy Tully is an Irish-American freelance journalist from New York, living now in Boston