So Nate and I went out to dinner last Thursday night (burger and martini night at the Sidecar, woo!) and I popped the question.
I had his ring ready to go for almost two months before he proposed to me. He's much easier to shop for than I am (meaning I'm a picky bitch and he's pretty easygoing), so I got a local jewelry store to replicate a design we'd seen online that he'd liked. It's a four millimeter white gold band, and I had them sand down the center two millimeters to make them matte and flat. The single millimeter on either side is still shiny.
So we were sitting next to each other in the Sidecar, drinking our overpriced and unspeakably good martinis, and in the middle of the conversation I sneaked my hand into my purse, pulled the ring box out, and bounced it on his knee under the table. I didn't have any pretty speeches or anything planned out, although I'd considered it. Really, after three years together, and when you're dealing with emotional shit, which is already heavy enough on its own merits, a speech of more than three or four sentences just seems so contrived.
So I bounced the ring up his leg and he thought I was being cute or sexy or something, so he laughed, and I said "No, you have to look, dammit," and he looked, and I asked him to marry me. The end.
It's funny how nervous I was. I mean, I know it's a silly thing, proposing to your fiance after you're already engaged, but it was meaningful for me. I don't even know what I was nervous about, exactly--maybe that he would think it was stupid or confusing or something... but he didn't. He was really touched, and he loves his ring. He says it's good practice for him to get used to wearing jewelry (about the only decoration Nate wears every day is his sunglasses. Or maybe his toolbelt.)
So why'd I do it? Well, a couple of reasons--I felt like it's not fair that I got an engagement ring and he doesn't. It's not a possessive thing, and it's not even a feminism thing, really (I could choose not to wear an engagement ring if I wanted to and I could have told Nate I didn't want one--it would certainly be more cost-effective than each of us buying one!). I like making the standard traditions a little more egalitarian, of course, but really, Nate's a Leo, and he likes having the occasional deal made over him. He also likes the occasional shiny present.
Also, if everything goes according to plan, I'm only going to be proposed to once. I'm only going to be engaged once. Why shouldn't I go for the whole package and have a little proposal experience of my own? I mean, sure, it's not entirely authentic in that there might have been less nervousness on my part. I was pretty sure he would say yes... but hey, he was pretty sure I would say yes to him, too, and he was still plenty nervous.
I told him that he didn't have to wear the ring all the time (in his line of work, even as much jewelry as a flat band can be inconvenient), and that I wasn't giving it to him so he'd have a visual symbol of "I'M TAKEN." It was more that when you ask someone to marry you, you're putting yourself out there in a pretty significant way, and I wanted to show him I'd do the same for him.
Not to get too heavy, but the whole traditional engagement/wedding script has a lot of room for the bride to be fawned over and the groom to fawn that I really don't care for. My objections are a) our relationship is an equal one, so there should be equal fawning, and b) I'm not hugely comfortable being fawned over by anyone at any point, so why should I adopt that kind of role for myself now? I don't plan to spend my marriage perched on a pedestal having my feet rubbed by my abasing husband (not my kink, thanks), so why shouldn't I take a more active role in some of the parts of the process which aren't traditionally feminine?
Anyway, I'm sleepy and rambling at this point, but mission accomplished. Blog blogged. Memory memorialized. I'm going to bed. :)
I had his ring ready to go for almost two months before he proposed to me. He's much easier to shop for than I am (meaning I'm a picky bitch and he's pretty easygoing), so I got a local jewelry store to replicate a design we'd seen online that he'd liked. It's a four millimeter white gold band, and I had them sand down the center two millimeters to make them matte and flat. The single millimeter on either side is still shiny.
So we were sitting next to each other in the Sidecar, drinking our overpriced and unspeakably good martinis, and in the middle of the conversation I sneaked my hand into my purse, pulled the ring box out, and bounced it on his knee under the table. I didn't have any pretty speeches or anything planned out, although I'd considered it. Really, after three years together, and when you're dealing with emotional shit, which is already heavy enough on its own merits, a speech of more than three or four sentences just seems so contrived.
So I bounced the ring up his leg and he thought I was being cute or sexy or something, so he laughed, and I said "No, you have to look, dammit," and he looked, and I asked him to marry me. The end.
It's funny how nervous I was. I mean, I know it's a silly thing, proposing to your fiance after you're already engaged, but it was meaningful for me. I don't even know what I was nervous about, exactly--maybe that he would think it was stupid or confusing or something... but he didn't. He was really touched, and he loves his ring. He says it's good practice for him to get used to wearing jewelry (about the only decoration Nate wears every day is his sunglasses. Or maybe his toolbelt.)
So why'd I do it? Well, a couple of reasons--I felt like it's not fair that I got an engagement ring and he doesn't. It's not a possessive thing, and it's not even a feminism thing, really (I could choose not to wear an engagement ring if I wanted to and I could have told Nate I didn't want one--it would certainly be more cost-effective than each of us buying one!). I like making the standard traditions a little more egalitarian, of course, but really, Nate's a Leo, and he likes having the occasional deal made over him. He also likes the occasional shiny present.
Also, if everything goes according to plan, I'm only going to be proposed to once. I'm only going to be engaged once. Why shouldn't I go for the whole package and have a little proposal experience of my own? I mean, sure, it's not entirely authentic in that there might have been less nervousness on my part. I was pretty sure he would say yes... but hey, he was pretty sure I would say yes to him, too, and he was still plenty nervous.
I told him that he didn't have to wear the ring all the time (in his line of work, even as much jewelry as a flat band can be inconvenient), and that I wasn't giving it to him so he'd have a visual symbol of "I'M TAKEN." It was more that when you ask someone to marry you, you're putting yourself out there in a pretty significant way, and I wanted to show him I'd do the same for him.
Not to get too heavy, but the whole traditional engagement/wedding script has a lot of room for the bride to be fawned over and the groom to fawn that I really don't care for. My objections are a) our relationship is an equal one, so there should be equal fawning, and b) I'm not hugely comfortable being fawned over by anyone at any point, so why should I adopt that kind of role for myself now? I don't plan to spend my marriage perched on a pedestal having my feet rubbed by my abasing husband (not my kink, thanks), so why shouldn't I take a more active role in some of the parts of the process which aren't traditionally feminine?
Anyway, I'm sleepy and rambling at this point, but mission accomplished. Blog blogged. Memory memorialized. I'm going to bed. :)
I adore this! :) <3
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