Marriage Proposals Unmasked

Whether truth or myth, the story has been told so often that it’s become an accepted chapter of the family history. But since their son’s carefully planned marriage proposal to me over the summer, his father has been at pains to contradict this scurrilous tale.

Unfortunately there is one fundamental flaw in his PR exercise – neither he, nor his wife, can actually remember how, when, or where the proposal took place.

To some newly engaged it seems impossible that such a momentous event could fade into the recesses of memory, notwithstanding the passage of 30-plus years of marriage. Perhaps this is because our idea of engagement has changed over a generation. What was once a simple pronouncement of future intentions has become an event in itself. It’s almost as if the quest for the perfect proposal has transcended the importance of, and reason behind, the actual decision.

Any bride-to-be will be familiar with the barrage of questions fired at them on that first post-proposal morning back at the office. Who proposed to whom? Where did it take place? Did he have the ring? Had he asked your dad? And inevitably, despite the fact that you’ve been engaged for little more than five minutes, ‘have you set a date?’

Over the years I too have reveled in my girlfriends’ excitement at their pending unions and pored over the details of their partners’ proposals. But I’m ashamed to confess I’ve also secretly critiqued their answers, comparing them to some idealized notion of what constitutes a romantic proposal and pointing out to my partner the things that seemed slightly odd or quirky.

There was the public proposal in front of numerous friends – romantic in its own way, but not overly intimate. There was the groom who introduced the question by asking her to declare how much she loved him (shouldn’t it have been the other way around?). Nor did thrusting a ring over a sinkful of dishes with the words, ‘how’ bout it? Impress. While ‘fancy a shag? Fancy one forever?’, got a big thumbs down (try relating that line to your grandmother). Even the champagne helicopter ride to a deserted beach didn’t cut the mustard (far too ostentatious for a simple girl like me).

When I look back at the ease with which I criticized his peers’ attempts, I’m lucky my partner had the courage to propose to me at all. And it was only when he muttered ‘it seems quite hard to get it right’, that I fully understood the impact of my negative comments.

It is after all, a pretty nerve-wracking event for the poor lads, and often the most anticipated moment on your journey as a couple and one that will be scrutinized not just by your girlfriends, but by his mates as well.

The funny thing is, when it does happen to you, none of the perceived quirks or diversions from any accepted notion of romance assume any importance whatsoever. One newlywed friend put it this way, ‘I always thought that where and how it happened would be important. But it was the beautiful things he said and the emotion in his voice that meant everything. The fact that we were lying in bed – which was a strange place for it to happen – was inconsequential.’

In the end, the romance in an engagement is about two people. It’s a look, a sigh, a shared understanding, a connection, a moment in time that can’t be translated for anyone else.

And, in deference to my future father-in-law, it could come with, or without, a beer can and cigarette.