So there I was, Dominican Republic December 2^nd 2008, staring down at the bright pink star ring I had picked out to propose with to my lovely girlfriend Rachelle Cadieux. Picking it out I thought it’d be quirky and cute. Looking down at it now the thoughts cheap and tacky sprang to mind. Girls start romanticizing about their engagement from their first viewing of Disney’s Cinderella (damn you Walt Disney) and no girl ever had a bright pink star ring in that fantasy. What was I thinking!

Everything else had come together nicely. Romantic tropical beach vacation, great timing (she’d given up on me ever asking and so wasn’t expecting a thing), perfect girl and … well I always pictured myself with a more svelte physique but it was too late to start dieting now.

The pink star was of course only the “temporary” ring. I am cheap but not that cheap. The idea was to go ring shopping as a couple and pick out her perfect ring together – won’t that be romantic! This plan formulated pretty quickly after realizing the incredible complexity involved in engagement rings combined with the impossibility of picking the perfect ring for a particular girl all with very limited input from her. How other guys do it I have no idea – are other girlfriends less picky or is there a bunch of girls out there with rings they are so-so on but are too polite to say anything? Whatever the answer I only wish I put more time into this to figure it out. Then I wouldn’t be stressing over the pink star and potentially ruining what’s supposed to be one of the most important events in a couple’s life!

This debate raging in my head wasn’t just last minute jitters. It’d been bouncing around in fierce argument the whole trip! The squabble went something like this. Day 1: this is a great idea and I’m a genius. Day 2: what was I thinking – a pink star ring isn’t how I ever imagined doing it, there’s no way she ever envisioned it either! Day 3: nah it’ll go over great, we’re a cutesy couple and she’ll love the cutesy ring. Day 4: bad idea, it’ll crash and burn, abort, abort! Day 5: ditto on yesterday. Which brings us to today (day 6) and vacation is over in two days and we’ll be heading home. Realistically this is the last day I could propose which would still allow us to enjoy a full day on vacation as an engaged couple. Plus I always wanted to propose on a tropical beach and who knows when we’d be on one again.

Its late afternoon, almost dusk, and we’re getting ready to go on a nice romantic stroll along the beach. Text book perfect proposal opportunity if ever I saw one if only I was more confident in the pink star. I was running out of time so deftly placed the ring in my pocket and figured I can mull it over while on the stroll.

What’s with this elaborate courtship ritual anyway? Why is the burden on the guy to pick the perfect ring and be the romantic instigator? Society has it the wrong way around; girls are far more apt at these things than guys. From early on girls are studying up with their romance novels and chick flicks and are well versed in romance, ring selection and related fields. I on the other hand, along with most guys I know, have been reading comic books and watching flicks like Terminator and Die Hard. Sometimes there’s a cheesy romantic sub plot to fill the gap between car chases but that taught me zilch. So consequently I’m woefully under qualified for what I’m trying to do.

The whole man woman engagement situation is poorly thought out now that I think about it. Girls are actively encouraged and rewarded in getting married. They even get a pretty ring and get to wear a pretty dress and have a special day out of it all. Men on the other hand are discouraged and punished for it. There’s the initial financial stumbling block with the requirement to save up for an elaborate piece of jewellery. Once that’s done there is the pressure and potential for humiliating soul crushing rejection involved with executing the perfect proposal. Then the punishment phase begins – involving a ritual where all their guy friends get to torture them – otherwise known as a bachelor / stag party (the girl version of this is much happier). Combine this with the natural male instinct to whore it up (optimal male reproductive strategy encoded by nature in our DNA – can’t argue with science) and it’s a wonder engagements happen at all!

Despite my rants I was very happy moving forward in life with Rachelle. She is the perfect girl for me, and although I could happily delay a year or more, I knew I’d be just as woefully unprepared then as I am now. Probably further woefully unprepared and even more stressed. And who knows the kind of added pressure I’d be under. I had already purposely let the deadline she’d given me when we moved in together elapse. She hadn’t given me a hard deadline but one was implied by casual comments about expecting to be engaged within a year. Not that there’s much difference between hard deadlines and implied ones when dealing with girls as I’ve learned. Well I let the one year deadline elapse. Just to prove that I was still the boss of me. Ha, who was I kidding! Anyway, I’d pushed the boundary and hadn’t been kicked to the curve so there goes any remaining mucho rationale left for me to delay with.

So here we were, hand in hand romantically walking along the beach in the Dominican. The ocean breeze was warm and refreshing and subdued surf crashed lazily on the beach. Soft fine sand cushioned our feet and the setting sun filled the sky with a myriad of colour. I nervously played with the ring secretly hidden in my pocket. Gazing across at Rachelle and she was looking adorable. I tried to act cool and collected so as not to tip my hand at what I was planning. Trying to make idle chit chat is tough while one’s mind is elsewhere. Not only was I debating whether this was the right moment, right situation and the right ring but I also had to rehearse what I was going to say and somehow come up with the courage to say it!

It was the return leg of the beach stroll and we were about to head up from the beach back to the resort. As usual I’d left things to the very last possible moment, needing the added pressure of a deadline on top of my natural courage before I could actually do anything. It was now or never and my nerves couldn’t stand it any more so I figured here we go. I reached out and stopped Rachelle as she started to turn to head in. The light was fading but everything seemed so crisp and alive. I looked her in the eyes and told her, in what must have been a nervous stammer, “I have something to tell you”. She looked at me with her cute smiling expression that she has when she’s not sure what I’m up too. I got down on one knee, as you’re supposed to do, and looked up at her. It was here that the finely crafted words I had been rehearsing completely escaped me. To this day neither of us is completely sure what exactly I said. Something about “the best girl in the world” and “I love you very much” was said in no particular order. I did manage to get the final part right and a “will you marry me?” left my lips.

Rachelle stared down at me in astonishment. She had the same smile frozen in place from when I had started talking but her eyes had widened significantly. There was a pause of a couple of seconds where neither of us moved or breathed. I’m not certain what was running through my head at the time because most of the brain cells involved have consequently imploded from the stress. It’s quite something to confess your undying love for someone and put yourself out there like that. Had what I just said come out coherently or had I just blown what should have been the perfect event with incoherent mutterings? I was absolutely certain she felt the same way in return and despite not getting the speech right the answer would be a resounding “yes”. Instead, with a stunned high pitched tone, she said “are you serious?”

Oh no … she thinks I’m joking! No she wasn’t joking. Not based on her expression and how she said it. However my brain wasn’t totally on top of things at this point so didn’t quite pick up on this fact. I know; I’ll prove it with the ring!

“Yes, I even have a ring” I stutter as I clumsily fumbled around for it in my pocket. I present the pink star ring, reckoning time had arrived. She gasped in delight when she saw it. Phew! I think she likes it … success!

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