You know those viral engagement videos you see online? The ones where the potential fiancé may enlist an entire group of friends to perform a flash mob song, or create a movie, complete with professional soundtrack to accompany the proposal? Romance extravaganzas. My engagement was the opposite of that, but against all odds, it worked.
We’d been seeing each other for a couple of years already when we started kidding about getting married. Karen and I had both been married previously, so the idea of doing it again didn’t make sense… until it did. That’s when I started plotting the ultimate surprise proposal.
We’re quite spontaneous in our approach to life, but also limited in our resources. The viral videos of engagements I’d seen all seemed rather over the top, but I guess that’s what the message was- an expression of adoration and commitment that would hopefully tip the fiancée into a positive reply.
I thought about flash mobs of friends, skydiving (oh, God, don’t drop the ring), live bands at the top of a mountain while we abseil – typical extreme proposal ideas, as well as maybe setting up a scene in a fancy restaurant where I could propose by performing a song I’d written myself.
After a bit, I managed to find a ring. The ring sat hidden in my cupboard for a couple of months while I attempted and failed to “script” the proposal. It had to be the right day, the right time of year and a surprise. Karen was starting to doubt that we’d ever had those “hell, let’s get married” chats.
We’re open with each other, and I’d like to think we know each other quite well. Of course, we have arguments occasionally too, but we fix the broken bits and move on. It’s dreadful to be bickering with someone you love.
There we were at home one evening after I’d suggested we go out for supper (she’d been checking her wine glass for a ring every time we’d gone out for the past few weeks). It was a pleasant enough meal, but not a time-for-that-game-changing-question meal.
I forget what we’d been chatting about over our food, but it hadn’t gone well. It became a raging argument with tears all the way home and into bed. I wanted it to stop, but couldn’t get to the “I’m sorry/let’s forgive each other” bit.
What does any guy do in the middle of a pointless fight? He goes to the cupboard where he’s hidden the ring, goes down on one knee, and says “will you marry me?”
Karen thought I was mad. Told me I could not have picked a worse time. But she also saw through her anger to the reality that she wanted to marry me. I got a “yes”.
Later that evening I explained why there were no bungee cords or human cannonballs in the proposal. My reasoning was that if, during our darkest moment as a couple, at a point when she even hated me a bit she could still say she wanted to marry me, then I knew we’d be able to survive anything together as a couple.
For us, it turned an awful moment into the most romantic one. And I can’t help but think that it’s perfect that way. We love spontaneity and can find romance everywhere. Trying to manufacture it was just not working.
That’s my accidental proposal. It didn’t get onto video, and it wasn’t shared a million times online. It was just us, a small moment in our lives that catapulted us into the next amazing chapter.
Of course, if you want to zip up an Elvis costume, tuck a ring in your pocket and go down on one knee while leaping out of a helicopter, you’re more than welcome to do that. Finding what works for you is a reward in itself.
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