I found myself at a going away party where the only person I knew was the person going away. Undaunted, I took up the challenge of befriending the girl I was seated next to. While diligently attending to this task, the general conversation at the table turned to swapping marriage proposal stories.
How the hell did I end up at this party?
To be fair, the first tale was cute, as they often are. By the third tale I was finding all of them sweet, but I little “I’ve had too much candy” sweet. And then the next one was bitter. Just as I was wondering if women ever stepped up and proposed, the girl beside me piped up that she’s been dropping hints to her boyfriend for four years, but still no ring.
Really? After four years you still haven’t brought up the subject with your boyfriend? What, do you want him to surprise you? Cuz I’ve got news: you’re expecting it. Kinda kills the surprise.
But I didn’t have much time to dwell on this as the march around the table had now come to me, and I had no plan how to get out of this one. I briefly considered saying that I had a homeless guy propose to me once, but while I was trying to think of how to make that story interesting a guy a few chairs down jumped in and saved me. He volunteered how he had found the engagement ring he was going to give to his girl, once he met her. Yes, he found the ring before he found the girl.
I had so many questions for this guy I felt a little sorry for him, but not sorry enough to stop asking them. Especially since his story began with, “So I was in Tiffany’s…”
I’m sorry, but you were in Tiffany’s? Just, you know, hanging out? Guys do that? Straight guys do that?
And then I remembered: “Wait…I’ve done that!” A couple years ago I enlisted the help of a friend for the express purpose of trying on wedding rings at Tiffiny’s. I don’t remember the elaborate plot that we made up, but it involved making up a name to make my future, imaginary fiance sound as rich as possible.
I have no idea what prompted me to want to try on wedding rings. I’m not the kind of girl who dreams about her wedding, and I don’t even like diamonds! But there I was, gawking at a beautiful ring shaped like a vine with some small, inset stones in the leaves. I wanted that ring.
Back at the party I asked the single guy what ring he had picked out, while asking myself if I would try to get him to propose to me if it turned out to be the same ring. Alas, no. He described some gaudy thing with multiple huge diamonds. I guess I was saved from trying to get a ring out of this guy, although the girl sitting beside me would have gladly used her four years of experience to give me some pointers.
I was still fascinated by him, however, and kept asking him questions. A man that found the ring before he found the girl, and admitted it? Rare indeed.
I was still questioning him as he got up to leave. My final question to him was, “So have you found the girl yet?”
“No,” he answered. “I figured the ring was the hard part.”
While in the past I might have taken this as trite, I now have a New Attitude. Falling madly in love is now a given. Resulting jewelry is now the unknown. Perhaps I had found someone else with my attitude!
…or perhaps he was just trite, which would explain why he’s got the ring and not the girl!
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