Lord of the Wedding Rings

by Kaya

As Valentine’s Day rapidly approaches, my thoughts turn to romance, overpriced heart-shaped goods and the inability to get a reservation at a decent restaurant. The cause of all this commotion? Love.

Webster’s Dictionary describes “Love” as...I don’t know, probably something about caring deeply for something or what a man and a woman are in before they decide to make babies. Look, I just got comfortable in this chair and I’m not going to get up now to get a dictionary. (I’m not too lazy to see what the thesaurus on Word says about the subject -- “feel affection for, find irresistible, be keen of, fond of.”)

I do know that most movies, songs, cards and postage stamps revolve around this idea of love. And the logical next step to being in love, according to the movies, songs and cards (the postage stamps are fairly quiet on the issue) is getting married.

As someone engaged to be married, I'm still amazed that I ever reached the point where I was ready to make that kind of commitment. The kind of commitment that defies biology and mathematical odds and says, “I want to be with this one person for the rest of my life.” But when your as “keen of” someone as I am, it actually makes sense.

Jen is truly amazing woman. She is adventurous, intelligent, beautiful, caring and laughs all the live long day. She inspires me to be a better person, helps me explore the depths of love and partnership and makes me want to plan my life with her. And despite our differences (she likes the band “Erasure”, I can’t stand them; she prefers dark chocolate while I enjoy milk chocolate and, finally, I think the introduction of the designated hitter rule to the American league during 1972 was an unfortunate mistake that led to pitchers being overspecialized and causing a strategic change to how the game of baseball is played...and Jen doesn’t seem to feel strongly one way or the other.) we still find common ground to communicate.

Once I knew that this was the woman I wanted to marry, the person I wanted to begin a lifelong partnership, the person I wanted to form a more perfect union with -- I had to begin the marriage journey alone. The proposal, traditionally, falls squarely on the shoulders of the man. This means that despite how intertwined our lives are, I had to sneak away and try to shop for rings, much less devise a plan to propose (heaven forbid it’s not a memorable proposal!).

I’d spend the day looking at rings and thinking longingly of how strong our honest communication was only to come home and lie my smitten ass off about where I’d been all day.

“Today? Oh, I was out at the movies. That’s right, I saw “Lord of the Wedding Rings”, I mean, “The Lion Ring”, I mean I was with a hooker...reading to the blind. She was a blind hooker. Why are you hassling me? I gotta go, I think I heard the doorbell wedding ring. Aurghhgh!”

I’m one smooooth criminal.

Once the ring was bought, I need to come up with a proposal plan. While it’s not mandatory to have a wildly clever and romantic proposal, it’s much more preferred than saying “lets get married” while hammered on Charles Shaw Merlot and watching a touching re-run of ‘Friends.’

I went to my very creative and eccentric brother to brainstorm on ideas of how to propose. I only knew I didn’t want to do a big public proposal (too many movies of embarrassing proposals ruined that idea, I mean, didn’t the guy in “Crocodile Dundee” realize that she was falling for Mick?). The only part of the plan I knew was that I was going to ask her in Ohio, after I spoke to her parents about asking their daughter to marry me. While this has great sentimental points, I could only plan so much without being there.

After a few motivational drinks, here’s what we came up with:
--Go on a hike. Hid the ring somewhere on my body (taped to my leg, crammed in my backside, etc.) and ask her to check me for ticks when we returned. When she found it, clean it off and propose.

--Shave “Will You Marry Me?” into my back hair. (Ruled out due the fact that I have no back hair.)

--Using PowerPoint, create a compelling argument involving tax advantages and jar opening/bug extermination benefits of having a husband.

We finally settled on an idea. I would write the 10 words (1.Jen 2.Lastname 3.I 4.Love 5.You 6.Will 7.You 8.Marry 9.Me 10.?) on 10 playing cards, hearts of course. Since we occasionally play the card game “Gin” it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary to strike up a game involving 10 cards.

I not so subtly dropped hints about wanting to play Gin during our trip to Ohio.

“Did you know that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston play a lot of Gin? That’s right. In fact, they used to be poor and ugly before they began playing. All the hot couples play Gin. Yesiree-bob.” She had to be onto me – I only use the term ‘yesiree-bob’ when I’m lying or doing an impersonation of someone in the 1950s enjoying smoking a corn cob pipe.

Once we were in Ohio, my time was limited. My request of Jen’s parents for a few moments to talk alone as well as phone numbers to local flower shops were easily interpreted by the family. They were on to my clever ruse and were extremely excited about it as well.

I wanted to speak to both her Father and Mother about asking her to marry me. I wasn’t really “asking” per se, but more letting them know and hoping they approved. I subsequently fumbled through the speech I had prepared in my head. Like I was on a bad episode of “Three’s Company”, I stumbled, stammered and stuttered through what seemed in my mind like a brilliant and moving testimony of commitment and love. I said something to the effect of, “I mean, your daughter. Whew! What a lady. Yep, a great lady. Yesiree-bob. Quite a catch. One foxy lady.”

I eventually steadied myself and got the words to make a shred of sense. They hugged me and said they couldn’t be happier for us. I silently thanked her lame ex-boyfriend for the low expectations and began to prepare to speak to Jen. Before I left they told me I better ask Jen to marry me before tomorrow afternoon because a relative that “likes to talk a lot” caught wind of the news – and we’d be seeing them all the next day. Oh goodie, lets add a tad more pressure to keep things interesting.

The day ended and I was unable to find some time with Jen alone. I woke up the next day in hurry and suggested we go on a nice, morning walk. Although we weren’t yet engaged, we were allowed to stay in the same bedroom. This bedroom was almost perfectly designed to prevent a couple from being intimate. The bed squeaked with piercing definition and frequency at any movement and the door didn’t quite fit the door jam and thus did not close. Job well done soon-to-be Father-in-law, job well done.

I rushed Jen out for a brisk walk before we met up with the rest of the family (who, at this point, are all aware that I’m proposing). I convinced Jen that her Mom wouldn’t mind if we didn’t ask her to join us, grabbed the ring, my trick deck of cards and we were out the door.

It was a beautiful morning to walk by the nearby creek. Birds were singing, the sun was filtering through trees and I was sweating like a 8th grader at the school dance when a slow song came on. I tried to act calm, frantically scanning the area for a place to sit and play cards. Everything was damp from the morning dew...what would I do? It was too late to abort the cards...I had taken so much time to cover the cards with sticker paper and carefully draw on the words. I’d hate to not use them.

When we came across a log I asked Jen if she wanted to sit for a minute. Perhaps she was tired or perhaps it was the crazed look in my eye; she agreed. So relaxing – the creek gently rushing by, the cool morning air, the damp brown ground beneath our feet...what a perfect time for some cards!

At my suggestion to play “one quick game of Gin”, Jen accurately looked at me like I had lost my mind. Sure, because that’s what people do when they’re out for a nature walk at 9 in the morning. Sit on a wet, rounded log and play cards.

Yep, everything was going according to plan.

Perhaps it’s indicative of why I want to marry this woman – she shrugged her shoulders and agreed to play a game. On the damp log. Next to the creek. At 9am.

I had my “secret hand” tucked into my sock ready to grab as soon as the situation arose. I awkwardly shuffled the cards and dealt us our hands balanced precariously on the log. After a couple of discards, I knew I needed to make my move. Jen is inexplicably the best Gin player the world has ever known. She beats me in the most remarkable and lightening fast fashion. Before she could triumphantly call “Gin” I distracted her in order to grab my secret hand.

“Is that a deer?” I think is what I said. I may have said, “Is that a Minotaur?” or some other mythical beast. My mind wasn’t at it’s sharpest as I was a tad distracted.

She turned to see if indeed a half-man half-bull creature was in our midst. With her trusting head turned I switched out my hand.

“I guess not. Oh well. So anyways. Wow...you’ve got to see this hand. I just have to stop the game and show you.”

I got down on one knee and began to lay the cards down one at a time.

“Jen”
“Lastname”
“I”
“Love”
”You”
“Will”
“You”
“Marry”
“Me”
“?”

We joke that she said, “Oh, the ten of hearts, I need that card!” but actually, she joined me on the wet ground, yelled “YES” and wrapped her arms around me.

I placed the ring on her finger and we laughed and cried. It was the greatest morning walk I’ve ever taken. We walked back to her parent’s house engaged to be married. I couldn’t have been more proud to be in a partnership with this woman. What a treat it is to be in love with such a remarkable person.

When we walked in to the house, Jen’s Mom, Dad, brother and sister were looking at us with expectant eyes and stifled smiles. With eyebrows raised her Mom calmly asked, “Soooo...how was your walk?”

Yes, her Dad took our photo with the cards...