Manolo for the Brides

The story was broken yesterday at Manolo for the Big Girl, but a regular Manolosphere commenter, Andrea S, had a Very Special Experience at the Renaissance Faire. Follow the link, and wish her joy!

Interestingly enough, the Renaissance Faire was where Mr. Twistie and I met. I didn’t pay too much attention that first day to the somewhat less than sober guy holding up a pole at the Pistolbows (hand-held crossbows for the kiddies to shoot) booth, so I had no idea what a momentous occasion it was. Just shy of thirteen years later, we pledged ourselves to one another before a crowd of friends and family.

Yeah, sometimes we’re slow. Still, we get there eventually.

Oddly enough, my brother the alpaca rancher also met his love at the Faire. In fact, they met when she (a member of the Irish camp) proposed to him, because he looked a prosperous English fellow. It took them something in the range of about two years to tie the knot, but they fell hard pretty much immediately, and are still besotted with one another more than twenty years later.

Now I’m curious. When and where did you meet your intended/spouse? Did you know right away, or did it take a while? What’s your love story?

We’ve spent a good amount of time exploring the virtues of various marriage proposals…public versus private, nerdy versus romantic, and adventurous versus traditional, but we’ve usually agreed that a proposal works when it works for the couple. Here’s one that definitely worked for the couple.

A certain man who goes by the moniker TheRealPfhreak successfully proposed to his girlfriend by hacking Chrono Trigger. He originally wanted to surprise her with a trip to Mount Barker, the site of their first date, but that just didn’t work out. So instead of bringing his now fiancée to the mountain, he brought the mountain to her by creating a secret Chrono Trigger level complete with stargazing, dancing, her favorite song lyrics, and even her cat.

Overall, it was a resounding success. She had no idea that this wasn’t part of the original. She asked, “Hey, are those the Princess Bride lyrics? Do the Japanese really love that movie?” to which I responded, “Yeah! That’s probably it! Either that or a bored translator slipping in an easter egg.”

When her name appeared on screen (blurred in this video), she glanced over to me (on one knee, with the ring out), wondering, “How did they get my name in this game?” When she saw the ring, she reread the proposal, nodded yes, and said, “You are such a huge nerd! I love this!”

Note that the good stuff starts at about one minute into the video.

Congratulations to TheRealPfhreak and his lady!

As far as unusual proposals go, Sean Bonner may receive the latest unusual proposal prize for asking his girlfriend Tara Brown to marry him over Twitter.

Most people seem to think that this is a fine way to propose in these tech-oriented times, though there are some online detractors who have not hesitated to call these tweethearts twits. Positive comments on blogs call the proposal original, romantic, geeky in a good way, and fun. Negative comments on other blogs call the proposal impersonal, lame, shallow, banal, and boring.

Me? I’m guessing that Sean knows Tara and would not have popped the question over Twitter if he thought it would ruin his chances of a positive response.

Tara’s own response backs that up:

Asking me over Twitter was probably the most adorable, amazing, dorky, hilarious and appropriate move Sean could have made.

One of the main problems people seem to have with this particular proposal is the fact that it was so public, but how is it any different than getting gown on one knee on the jumbotron at a sports arena? I think if it works for Sean and Tara, awesome, and I look forward to reading more about their space pirate, space ninja, space zombie wedding!

The creator of this amusing instructional video on proposing brought it to my attention a few days ago, and I liked it so much, I thought I’d share it with you. I’m placing a beverage warning on this one. You! Put down that coffee! It’ll just wind up wasted on your monitor.

As is always the case in the first half of February, Valentine’s Day is approaching speedily. Nowadays, the percentage of ladies who are proposing to their gentlemen has gone way up. It’s still not through the roof, but I thought I mention it being that I know a goodly handful of my readers are individuals of the female persuasion who are not actually engaged. Back when I started enjoying the mass of wedding blogs out there (and writing my own) I was nowhere close to being promised, though I wanted to be ever so badly.

In fact, I’d even tested the waters by asking The Beard what he’d say if I did propose, but the Eight Ball in his heart was all, “Ask again later.” He swears that he doesn’t remember this ever happening, but he does have a mind like a colander. Perhaps things would have been better if I had simply presented him with one of these awesome boxed proposal bowls from Paloma’s Nest.

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Back in the day — by which I mean a period beginning shortly after WWII and ending sometime around the year 2000 when the United Nations General Assembly finally recognized the whole “blood diamond” thing — the recipe for getting engaged read, “Take one diamond valued at roughly two month’s salary plus one knee, and combine. Issue proposal thusly for maximum effect.” Screw you very much, De Beers.

I tend to forget about the whole business of diamonds for a couple of reasons. One, I don’t subscribe to cable or have an antenna, so my exposure to those nerve-gratingly annoying De Beers commercials is kept at a bare minimum. Two, most of my engaged and married peeps received something other than diamonds from their sweeties. And three, as much as I adore all that sparkles, I subscribe to the rather old fashioned notion that big bling looks best on ladies over the age of 50. Perhaps that should even be 60 or 70, considering that 40 is apparently the new 20, which would naturally make 50 the new 30 and so on.

So why am I suddenly concerned with mineralogical numerology? I read something yesterday in the online journal of a friend of a friend.

What is a diamond? It’s a pretty stone, but a really expensive one, and one that only means “I love you” because people think its absence means “I don’t”. With diamonds as the social norm in many countries, marriage is like a game of chicken - neither partner can broach the subject of not getting a diamond ring, because to do so would sound like less than total commitment.

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I stumbled upon an old article in the Boston Globe that talked about the revival of the old “man basking the bride’s dad’s consent” tradition, and it made me think of The Beard’s proposal. He did in fact call my dad to ask his blessing, mostly because I’d told him a number of times that my dad would really like that. My dad, as you might guess, is an old fashioned dude. For the record, I would have married The Beard even if my father had told him to buzz off–he was asking for my dad’s blessing, not his permission.

What interested me more than the article itself was the range of responses I found in the comments section.

If a young man wanted to come talk to me about marrying my daughter BEFORE he had talked to her, I would have serious reservations about the man. I think it would show a lack of respect for the woman he wanted to marry. This is something I would expect my daughters to figure out on their own (like grown women) and then come tell me once they had decided. For most of us women, it is a reminder of a time when we were excluded from a lot of the decision making about our lives. Completely creepy.

If you’re going to discuss getting married as a couple, then why even propose or ask?! What’s the point if you’ve already discussed the subject? Sorry but with how important my family is to me, I would want my parents consent before a guy asked me to marry him. Maybe I’m old fashioned or maybe I am lucky to have a supportive family that knows who I am.

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A certain Jason wasn’t satisfied with the usual getting-down-on-one-knee routine and wanted to do something really showy when he proposed to his ladyfriend Maui. In a move that definitely falls under the veil of Twistie’s public proposal rules, Jason sought out the aid of graphic novel guru Neil Gaiman, who was scheduled to do a signing at a local convention center.

One late night, I went to the “Ask Neil” portion of his blog and wrote a rather long e-mail about how I planned to propose, and if he could find some time in his busy sched and play a small part (understatement of the year) in it. I did this well knowing that the e-mail would probably discarded along with the thousands of messages he gets every day.But two days later, a reply from his assistant:

“Hi Jason,I am sure we can help with this, give me a bit to make sure of his schedule…”

After two weeks of back and forth with assistants and bookish people, the details were sufficiently ironed out. Jason even had a nice chat with Gaiman–the creator of Sandman is on the phone? *faint* When it was time to put the whole plan into effect, the entire employ of the convention center was in on it, and everything went off without a hitch. Well, almost.

Maui actually failed to notice Neil’s dedication because she was so starstruck. It took him about three times to actually get her to read the darn thing.

Maui (squealing, closing the book): Thanks!!!

Neil: Aren’t you going to read what I wrote? You have to read it..

Maui (opening the book, shrugging, then closing it again): Thanks!!!

Me: You have to read the dedication…

And she bent over to give Neil a kiss, STILL not noticing what was going on.

Neil: You really have to read this…

But then Maui finally cracked that book, and being that Jason knew her well, she said an enthusiastic, “YES!” I want to offer up a hearty round of congratulations to Jason and Maui, and then ask you who your ultimate celebrity proposal helper would be. Or perhaps you think using the assistance of a famous individual is a bit depersonalizing?

More and more folk seem convinced these days that if a marriage proposal is just a simple question asked privately, that’s not nearly enough. Almost every day, it seems, we hear tales of guys who did it ‘right’ by hiring casts of thousands, organizing hugely elaborate rituals, or submerging perfectly good rings in glasses of good champagne to the sorry detriment of both items.

The thing is, if you ask someone to marry you in public and they say no, there’s pretty much no way not to be publicly humiliated. You need to be very certain a) that the answer is going to be yes, and that the askee is going to be okay with the very public nature of the moment.

After all, you don’t want to be this poor guy:

But if you’re very certain of the answer, and certain she (or he; after all, it’s the 21st century and women can do the proposing, too) will appreciate something very public and very elaborate, then by all means go for it…particularly if you have the sort of friends this guy has to help him out: