proposal

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The Proposal

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One year ago today, Steve asked me to be his wife, and I said yes.

In honor of that occasion, I’m revisiting the story of our proposal. Just 4 months to go!

Forty-Something First Time Bride

The last thing I expected was that the proposal would take me by surprise.

For one thing, Steve and I had already spent an afternoon looking at rings online; he’d waited until he thought I was distracted and tapped the name of the style I liked (not so) surreptitiously into his phone. More importantly, Steve, who teaches GIS mapping in forestry, is a self-described “map guy” and “math man.” While it’s true that stats are less straightforward than they seem and a few rogue numbers can even be irrational, Steve possesses all the qualities you might imagine of someone whose life is guided by algorithms and accuracy adjustments: he is solid and stable, a planner, practical, somewhat predictable. I love these things about him, as they balance out my more, shall we say, whimsical approach to the world. Since he’s also a conventional romantic—opening doors for me, spoiling me with…

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I Propose…

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After a long, hard (and in many places, lingering) winter, the day we’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived.  Happy Proposal Day!

Wait, what?

You were probably expecting me to say, “Happy first day of Spring!” That it is. Is it also, at least according to some, National Proposal Day. The origins of this unofficial holiday are not entirely clear, although a couple of websites reference Texan John Michael O’Loughlin as the creator, noting he chose March 20th specifically because the Vernal Equinox “symbolizes the equal forces between the couple necessary in making a marriage work.”

The National Day Calendar–prime source for oddball holidays of all stripes–acknowledges National Proposal Day, although this year it’s highlighting, on the lighter side, ravioli, and on a more sobering note, Native HIV/AIDS Awareness Day. Based on the wildly rambling website http://www.proposalday.com, it sounds like the holiday may have been imagined primarily as a (gasp!) marketing gimmick to sell “Proposal Day Cards” and, even more intriguing, “Proposal Day Candidacy Cards,” which are not for proposing, per se, but rather to “declare your candidacy for marriage directly to the one you love” and “make clear your desire to be viewed by them as a candidate for their consideration as a spouse.” If you’re the crafty sort and don’t care to buy a Candidacy card, the site also has suggestions on how to make your own.

It all sounds a little bit too much like those non-committal pseudo-invitations that pass for asking someone out these days: “Maybe we can meet up for lunch sometime,” or worse, “There’s a really great band playing downtown Friday night I was thinking of going to see.” Um, was there a question in there somewhere?

If you want to ask someone to marry you, propose.  If not, don’t.  Save declaring candidacy for the politicians.

But since it is Proposal Day, I have a proposal to make. How about we simply celebrate the arrival–on the calendar if not in the forecast–of Spring? Let’s celebrate new beginnings, the possibility of growth, the balance of hours on this day.

I don’t know if Proposal Day is a “thing” or a wanna-be.  But Spring, beautiful spring, is here at last.

On Gratitude and Gay Marriage

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I’m a middle-aged fashion model. According to conventional industry standards, I’m neither tall enough, thin enough, nor young enough to qualify as model material, but that’s one of the main reasons I took on the challenge: I wanted, in my own small way, to expand our narrowly defined ideas of what constitutes “beauty.”

I’m no pro, nor do I aspire to be, but I model fairly regularly with a volunteer organization that promotes diversity in fashion and the fashion industry. Back in June, we did a runway show at a local gay bar and dance club to support the launch of a new LGBTQ magazine. As we dressed backstage before the show, one of the other models, “Kesha,” a stunning African-American woman maybe ten or twelve years younger than me, commented on her wedding planning progress. When I told her I’d recently gotten engaged, too, she said, “Congratulations, girl!” gave me a big hug, and noted, “We need to talk.”

After the fashion show, Kesha and I sat in the club’s bar, drinking wine and sharing nuptial details. Her wedding is slated for this coming spring, so she’d already booked her venue, the Patrick Henry ballroom, and chosen bridesmaids’ dresses, floor-length Tiffany-blue gowns. We talked colors, sharing pics back and forth on our phones: her centerpieces, my vases. She’s planning on two dresses: for the ceremony, a fitted mermaid gown with beading and bling; and for the reception, a mini-dress with a frothy full-length tulle overskirt. As we clicked through pictures, one of us spotted a cat on the other’s phone, so we took a detour into trading pet photos. I’d modeled with Kesha for over a year, but this was the first real conversation we’d had. Weddings, it seems, have a way of bringing people together.

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Will YouTube Marry Me?

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Everyone’s first question, as soon as you sport a ring on your finger, is “How did he propose?”  The available answers seem to grow increasingly complex: a quick internet search reveals choreographed dance routines with professional performers, day-long scavenger hunts where the couple’s friends pop up with clues, private rooftop dinners accompanied by string quartets or even salsa bands. Websites abound offering guidance on creating the “perfect proposal,” and there are event planners whose sole focus is designing not weddings but “proposal packages.” The “Plan Your Proposal” button on one such site leads to a menu that not only strongly encourages hiring a pro to document the event but also includes a “Book a Flash Mob” link and an “Ask the Expert” option, where you can “run your proposal ideas” past a “proposal expert” and get a response in three days.

Um, how exactly does one qualify to become a “proposal expert”?

Bold public proposals or creative, extravagant approaches are genuinely romantic when they fit the couple. My brother proposed to my sister-in-law in front of a crowd packed with friends and members of an organization that had changed his life; they were the very people who’d encouraged him to live large and dare initiate the relationship in the first place. ❤ And if you’re a professional actor wooing a producer, it makes sense to stage an actual live lip-dub street production to pop the question! But so many “big” proposals seem less an outgrowth of a couple’s personal history than a product of growing social and market pressures to manufacture a “perfect” but artificial moment. After all, most of us aren’t professional performers, and how dreamy is it, really, to purchase someone else’s pre-packaged idea of a romantic gesture, or, for that matter, to tell not only your friends but also a roomful of random flash-mob dancers that you want to marry Susie before you tell Susie herself?

Somewhere along the way, proposing marriage has become a kind of competitive spectator sport. The big proposal now rivals the big wedding. Full of flash and splash, scripted and staged, it’s a public performance of your commitment, recorded for posterity. Because, of course, someone is always there filming these über-events.  Otherwise, what’s the point?

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The Proposal

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The last thing I expected was that the proposal would take me by surprise.

For one thing, Steve and I had already spent an afternoon looking at rings online; he’d waited until he thought I was distracted and tapped the name of the style I liked (not so) surreptitiously into his phone. More importantly, Steve, who teaches GIS mapping in forestry, is a self-described “map guy” and “math man.” While it’s true that stats are less straightforward than they seem and a few rogue numbers can even be irrational, Steve possesses all the qualities you might imagine of someone whose life is guided by algorithms and accuracy adjustments: he is solid and stable, a planner, practical, somewhat predictable. I love these things about him, as they balance out my more, shall we say, whimsical approach to the world. Since he’s also a conventional romantic—opening doors for me, spoiling me with good wine and sweet back rubs, sending flowers “just because”—l expected a traditional proposal. He’d tell me to get dressed up for an evening out at the restaurant where we first met, or suggest we go on a spectacular hike on an anniversary. And I, the storyspinner, would know what to expect, since it’s the rare plot twist I don’t discern before the big reveal, the rare tale where I don’t see the ending coming.

Or, in this case, the beginning.

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