The perfect proposal

Riding on the loved up wave of the proposal and still finding my feet after the spontaneous and decided YES that came from with in me, I was overwhelmed by the out pouring of well wishes and shocked congratulations from our family and friends at the announcement of our engagement. Our phones and Facebook notifications went crazy, their constant pinging began to feel like being trapped inside a pinball machine on a winning streak. It was a brief and surreal high that lasted until the questions came rolling in. The questions and comments that served as a quick slap back into the reality that he and I were not this little island of love, free to love and express that love how we saw fit…..we were very swiftly reminded that we are part of a society and culture that is wrapped in tradition and laden with expectations.

I was not at all prepared for the questions that followed. Even if my desire as a young girl in the 80’s to be part of that knee high, brown sock club with all their outdoor adventures and dib, dib, dibs had been fulfilled and I was allowed to join the boy scouts, I doubt even they could have prepared me in the slightest for all the questions that followed.

Who is this man? How come we haven’t met him? 

What’s the rush? 

OMG that’s so soon, you haven’t even known each other a year, have you?

Are you up the duff?  

WTF, your getting married? I didn’t think you were the marrying type.

Is this a joke?

And then the big one….the information that seemed to somehow be public property, that all your nearest and dearest, included your hairdresser and local check out chick thought they has right of access too…How did he propose? The first time I was asked this, I was shocked.  Not so much that the question was asked, rather that I seemingly wasn’t prepared with a suitably idealistic answer to sedate the hunger for glittering romance in the asker. Shocked because I could feel the dissatisfaction and what can only be described as pity in their response, ‘oh, so no flowers or down on one knee then?’ I could feel their disappointment run down me like ice cream that had melted and made its way down your arm long before you had had your fill of its sugary goodness. It stuck with me and I found myself defending my man and our story, perfecting and refining it a little more every time someone asked. 

I even started questioning it myself. Was I willing to accept this proposal? Where the hell were the flowers and shinny things to make me swoon? Had he actually even put any thought into it at all? Did he give a shit about making this special? And the truth was, underneath all that societal fairy tale expectations of what this moment should be; it was stunningly beautiful and romantic. It was us, being fully present with each other, in a perfectly intimate moment, looking into each other’s eyes, with the sound of the leaves cheering us on as they brushed against the balcony and  the sea breeze blowing its salty blessings through the open door.

At the time it was perfect, my face held so purposefully between his hands and me, through eyes leaking with raw emotional whispering back at him ‘Yes’.