I tried using websites that gave blog ideas, but they all blew chunks. So I figured I’d just think my own stuff up. But then my dear friend J posted this and I figured I had a little bit to say about that too. So even though I only vaguely know Mei and don’t know LizzyDanger at all I figured they wouldn’t mind if I dropped in my two cents as well.
I had this friend, who I love dearly though I’ve hardly seen her since I was the maid of honor at her wedding (I’m a great neglecter of friendships – an issue I’d like to work on). She loved traditional things. She liked to tease her mother for her ultra seventies looking wedding gown (despite the fact that it was, in fact, the seventies). She wanted her wedding to be traditional so that she’d never look back at the pictures and wonder what the hell she was thinking. So she went with a Victorian theme, complete with trains and elaborate hairstyles. Tiaras were involved. It was obviously beautiful, all the tings a wedding should be. Except we have very different styles. Weddings are made of pretense, they’re basically designed for a woman to dress up like a princess and make sure she gets pretty much everything she wants. And that’s often a lot. If you’ve been reading my blog all along then you may recall this post where I told you all about my intended Arby’s Wedding and the quest for the least pretentious nuptials ever conceived. I’m not huge on making a big deal of things, and weddings are included in that.
Though, that’s not what we’re here to discuss. While the two subjects are clearly, unequivocally linked, this post is about proposals. I’ve never been proposed to and I sort of doubt that I ever will be, but… I’m a girl. I drink fruity drinks with umbrellas, I like cheesy pop music and television shows, and I will admit when I was younger I put a pillowcase on my head and pretended to walk down the aisle. And I dreamed of someone asking that question. It generally involved witnesses and some sort of grand design. I wanted rainbows and flowers once. And then I turned thirteen.
The same friend who had the elaborate Victorian style wedding had a good proposal story too, which was chronicled to me in detail over what should have been baby back ribs, but was probably a chicken sandwich, at a Chili’s in Sandusky. They had discussed getting married and went to buy the ring together so that she could get what she liked. So, she knew it was coming, but she still wanted a proposal. They went to a nice Chinese restaurant, they had a nice meal, and towards the end he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the ring… then tossed it to her and said something like “Well, how ’bout it?” She was so upset about it that several weeks later she handed him back the ring and insisted he propose again.
Here’s the thing; I know that my reaction was supposed to be commiseration. I know I was supposed to lament how pathetic her proposal was and agree that he definitely needed to re-propose after all those years of dating. I was supposed to think her handing him back the ring and saying “You are not a winner. Please try again!” was completely normal. And maybe it was. Why shouldn’t a girl get the proposal she’s always dreamed of? But, I just couldn’t quite get with it. And probably because a toss and “How ’bout it?” would likely be my ideal proposal. Unpretentious and… well, sort of funny. I’m not traditional. But she is, and maybe it’s all down to wanting the man you’re going to marry to know that much about you. I will admit, and I don’t very often, that I just don’t really know.
I wouldn’t mind a spontanteous ringless popping of the question either. But, I think that if I ever do get married (an outcome that is increasingly unlikely) then it will probably be after some sort of conversation about taxes or healthcare. What can I say? That’s just the unromantic in me.