Well kids, Iíve got some pretty big news. I proposed the option of marriage to my princess the other day. In case youíre a sucker for details, hereís how it all went down.
I got off work like usual, and swung by the house to change clothes and pick her up. We went out to a real fancy dinner, and I paid the waiter to bring out two flutes of champagne, hers with a ring in it. Then the band began playing ďour song,Ē and as she looked around in amazement, she realized that all of our friends and family were in the restaurant, and I dropped down to one knee and popped the question. She accepted, and everyone cheered and applauded, but thatís when the ninjas dropped in through the skylight and kidnapped her. I wonít go through the tedious story of how I finally tracked them all the way to Antarctica and blew up their entire base, my princess and I narrowly escaping with our lives. But it all turned on fine, in case youíre wondering.
The above paragraph is all bullshit. In a perfect world, thatís how it would have gone (except for the ninjas and stuff, but whatís the point of using your imagination if there arenít any ninjas crashing in through the roof?). In a perfect world, I wouldnít be broke off my ass and working in retail, either.
The world has been clouded by shit weíve seen in movies, thatís the problem Iím having. People ask me if I picked out the ring by myself, I say no, and they look all disappointed. ďOh, so she knew what ring she was getting?Ē What the hell do you people want from me? You know what I know about diamonds? I know that you have to have a fence to sell them for you after you pull off a big-time score, and that heíll almost always betray you, and youíll spend the next hour and forty-five minutes fighting for your life and trying to get vengeance. At the end, youíll make everything right, and youíll probably end up having sex with a hot chick in the process. See, movies again.
My point is, I know jack-shit about diamonds, about rings, about pretty much anything. This is something sheís got to wear on her finger until I can round up enough cash to get married, man. That could be a while, you know? Yes, she knew what ring she was getting! Because I asked her to pick it out. See, because itís going to be her ring! Maybe itís not so romantic, but at least sheís not walking around with an ugly ring.
You know what kills me? The people that are most disappointed, theyíre these single chicks. ďOh, well thatís not very romantic,Ē they tell me.
Oh, yeah? It seems a little bit more romantic than using some little college chick for a lay every once in a while, giving her some strange STD, and then moving on with your life, leaving her to figure out how sheís going to pay for the abortion. Iím not saying that thatís whatís in store for these girls or anything, Iím just saying. My princess has a ring on her finger, and whether she knew what it looked like before she got it is really kind of a moot point, donít you think?
Sheís got it.
ďHow did you propose?Ē Thatís the next question. I lie about it. Every time.
ďI, uh, I got this huge bouquet of roses, picked by hand from a bush that grows on the highest mountain in Texas, and then I took her to the beach and I had a skydiver jump out and release a bunch of doves from cages and all the doves were trained to fly in a pattern that spelled ĎWill you marry me?í and then I kneeled down in a pile of glass, just to prove my love.Ē
Yeah pretty intense.
You want to know how I proposed? I went in and got the ring, right? It started pouring rain, so when we went outside, I volunteered to go get the car. As I started the car, I realized that if I wanted to do something really special for my princess, proposal-wise, I was going to have to wait for about two months. See this is the part you never see I romance movies, is where the guy has such a shit-paying job that after buying the ring, he has to go months before he can even afford a burger at McDonaldís again.
I decided I didnít want to wait that long, so I took the ring out of the little cardboard box and tucked it down into the little compartment in the side of the door. Then I went and picked her up. I drove back around the parking lot, where you couldnít see the buildings or the consumers, but only a bunch of trees through the rain. I took the ring out, I told her that I didnít want to wait another minute, and I asked her to marry me.
Thatís it. In my head, I always figured it would be quite a bit more remarkable than that, but thatís how it went down*.
Yeah, there werenít any fireworks, there werenít any doves, and there werenít any ninjas. Itís called real life.
Iím sure there are people out there that can afford to hire other people to make events like this really special and Iím sure they have great stories to tell, and they have wonderful pictures to mark the event.
I had to rely on love to get me through it, and it seemed to work. Besides, she knew I was broke when she fell in love with me.
Maybe by the time we actually get married, Iíll be able to hire some ninjas to kidnap her, if sheís lucky.
* I have actually been thinking about how I was going to propose to this woman since three months into our relationship. I pictured everything from hiring a bunch of mimes to somehow signal the question to flat-out pulling out a gun and forcing her to say yes. Nothing ever seemed good enough. We met in NYC, so I always thought it would be easieróanything you do in New York has a romantic feel to it, so you really donít have to try very hard. Then I moved to Austin, where every romantic spot you can find is usually crowded with pot-smokers. I probably could have found a real cool way to propose, but I just got in a hurry. Iíll probably get killed for making this analogy, but itís sort of like sexóif you get in a hurry, it really ruins it for the girl, but to you it still feels really good.