Careful, It’s A One-Shot Memory

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I have only one bit of advice to all young lovers out there: Don’t make the same stupid mistake I did by getting engaged. You’ll regret it the rest of your lives.

Wait, that didn’t come out right. Let me clarify one point: Getting engaged to my wife, Carol, was the best thing that ever happened to me. I have never regretted it in the ensuing 20 years.

It’s the actual proposal that I’m talking about. You should think through your actual proposal better than I did. My proposal was deficient in romance. It was lame, it was lackluster, it was mundane.

Actually, it was nonexistent.

My “proposal,” if you can call it that, went something like this:

Me: So, I don’t think I can stay in this job forever.

Her: You’re right.

Me: Which means I’d have to move to a new town or something.

Her: That’s right.

Me: Which means that you’d have to either, you know, stay here, or sort of, come with me, or whatever.

Her: That’s what it looks like.

Me: And you really wouldn’t want to come with me without getting, whatever, married.

Her: I see your point.

Me: What I’m saying is that the best solution in those circumstances would probably be if we happened to be actually, you know, really together.

Her: I agree.

Me: (Pause) So, do you accept?

Her: Accept what?

You can see the problem here. As it turns out, she finally figured out that this was my pathetic version of a proposal, and we eventually came to the realization that we were engaged. We were so much in love that the thought of parting was inconceivable, so this “proposal” did the job from a purely practical standpoint. But it was not something that I am proud of.

A proposal should be a beautiful, romantic moment, involving roses and rings and kneeling. It should not be an incoherent conversation over logistics. It should not take place in a cafe over a plate of nachos.

I will admit there were some advantages to my method. For one thing, Carol was able to be an active participant the next weekend in picking out her own engagement ring. I think almost everyone will agree that this is a plus. Most guys know nothing about jewelry and are not qualified to purchase it on their own. I feel the way comedian Jeff Stilson feels about buying an engagement ring. He said he would have been more comfortable just getting down on one knee and handing his fiance-to-be a wad of cash.

The other advantage of my method is that it convinced my wife beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was my first choice. A man with previous proposing experience would have done better, just from sheer practice.

Still, as the years have gone by, I have grown to regret my non-proposal more and more. I’ve been thinking about this recently because I heard about a guy who did it right. He arranged to meet his sweetie in New York sometime around Thanksgiving weekend. He took her to Rockefeller Center for the big Christmas-tree lighting ceremony. There, just as the lights burst forth and the crowd oohed and aahed, he popped the question.

Now that’s a romantic proposal. For all I know, she told the guy to take a hike, but you must admit, the guy did an excellent job in the planning and delivery.

At the other end of the spectrum, some people try to contrive “stunt proposals.” We’ve all heard about stunt proposals: for instance, a billboard that asks, “Elaine, will you marry me?”

I would define a “stunt proposal” as any proposal delivered at a sporting event over a public address system; by an airplane towing a banner; or via the TV or radio waves.

These kind of proposals may be cute, but they are not what I call romantic.

Anyway, I’m tired of regretting my own half-baked proposal, so I’ve decided to do something about it. I’m going to propose all over again.

What? Oh, to Carol, of course.

So, I’m getting down on bended knee, which makes it difficult to type, and I’m holding out flowers and diamonds and stuff, I am saying, “Carol, would you do me the honor of being my wife? I mean, pretending for a moment that you weren’t already?”

Maybe this is a “stunt proposal” all in itself, but I don’t care. Now that I have finally popped the question clearly and unmistakably, I just hope she says, “Yes.”

To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

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