Sorry about yesterday. This is what I looked like then:
I’m doing better today.
Anyway.
With all the talk we’ve been having about proposals of late, I thought I would ask what you think would be the perfect proposal. On the beach at sunset? In front of the fire after a day of antiquing? By flash mob when you least expect it? Christmas morning when you open up a box with the perfect ring that he chose all by himself? Would you want your beloved to talk to your parents first, or go directly to you?
For my part, I don’t think I had any set image of what the proposal would look like. I know that if Mr. Twistie had gone to my father first, I would have been miffed and Dad would have been mystified. I wanted to pick a ring I wanted to wear, and not simply take what was picked for me. In the end, what mattered to me was that Mr. Twistie showed he really was thinking about me. He’d picked a date for our wedding, and that date took into consideration several things about me that mattered. He picked june, knowing I would want an outdoor wedding. He picked the thirteenth knowing that’s my lucky number. And he picked it far enough away that I would have plenty of time to make my wedding lace, as I’d been saying I wanted to.
Was the setting romantic? No. Were the words flowery? Really no. Did that matter to me? Not one iota, amazingly enough. I would have thought it might have mattered more to me, but it didn’t.
So what about all of you? What’s your perfect proposal? If you’re already married or engaged, did it happen at all like you’d hoped? Did it matter if it didn’t? Tell me all about it!
It wasn’t the proposal I’d expected, but it was essentially characteristic! We’d discusses marriage previously, but hadn’t come to any specific conclusions on it. One day I came home from work furious and bitching about changes to our insurance policies, and commanded him to check with his HR department about domestic partnership benefits. He, standing there in the laundry room, elbow-deep in kitty litter, said “Well, we could just get married.”
telophase, I’m having a delighted giggle over that proposal. I’m betting you don’t know anyone else who got one like it!
I proposed to my now-husband on the on-ramp of the freeway. We’d been talking about what we’d do if he’d moved to LA for a job, and I said I’d go with him, and that pretty much sealed the deal for me that he was the one I’d spend my life with as I hate hate hate LA. So I turned to him as we were driving home and said “let’s get married”.
And then we went to the grocery store, bought limes and champagne (we’d both just finished Anasazi Boys, which has a lime as an engagement ring in it), and got down on our knees to ask each other properly.
Never did move to LA though, moved back to Colorado (where he’s from) instead.
Meg, that’s my idea of romance! You definitely have to marry the person you’d move to LA for! Er… the person you’d move somewhere you hate being for. That’s what I meant. And I have to admit, LA is not someplace I’d want to live, myself. It’s a lousy place to be if you don’t drive.
Well, my husband didn’t propose to me. And we just agreed to get married without that kneeling thing.
Like you, Twistie, I don’t think I had a clear idea. I would have been furious if he’d asked Dad, and I wanted him to have the ring (I trusted him to choose it, but as it turned out he bought a gorgeous antique one I’d fallen in love with)
I proposed to him years before he proposed to me. There was a white flower (I’d wanted it to be a rose, but couldn’t afford it) and a note every day for a week, culminating in breakfast in bed, with the proposal and the ring.
He proposed to me on Christmas morning, with the ring and a note saying ‘Marry Me’ (no question mark!) under a huge box he’d suggested contained something alive.
I suppose I would have liked something a little more traditionally romantic, and not to be in my dressing gown! And it might have been better if he hadn’t already told our families, and half our friends…