The Challenge of Proposing

This is a tale of struggling. Of strife. Of challenges. Of obstacles. Of plans made, and of plans unmade.

However, it is also the story of victory, so I don't want any young men out there to listen and be disheartened. Nothing worth having comes easy. Whenever it is darkest, things are never so bad it can't get pitch black. But remember, the dawn will come.

Christine and I have been dating for just over two years. We met at a mutual friend's wedding (Jason Holloway) June 4, 1995. I'll leave Christine to tell how she felt something special was going to happen that day, it was love at first sight, yadda, yadda, yadda. I just asked her to dance, she said yes, and the rest just fell into place.

Due to many scientifically proven procedures (wedding cake under the pillow, female intuition, etc.) Christine was able to tell at a much earlier stage in the game that I was the person she was going to marry. It just took longer for me to come around to the same conclusion. There were many reasons for dragging my feet, the best being I wanted to make sure this was the absolutely right decision so I could do it once and once only, to death do us part. The worst being I was a typically commitment phobic male. I got that one thrown in my face quite a bit (while at the same time everyone was throwing the "why aren't you married yet?" one at Christine).

It is difficult to say when the transition from 'I'm not ready yet' to 'I'm planning to marry her' occurred. I'll take the walking into the forest analogy where between one step and another you can't go from being out of the forest to being in it, but after walking a while with the trees getting more and more frequent you can eventually look around you and say "I'm in the forest now."

Part of it had to do with the event itself. I wanted the proposal to be a surprise, but didn't exactly know how to do it in a way that would be uniquely ours. I knew someone who had proposed to his girlfriend on the dance floor in the middle of a solo performance the two of them were doing, so that was taken. Taking her out for a picnic had been done. One thought was when doing one of our Monday night 'Readings' to read some sappy poem or romantic short story and when everyone was emotionally worked up to pop the question then, but I couldn't find an appropriate passage.

Then it came to me. Christine has an incredible sweet tooth. I rarely have dessert, but she rarely skips it. And chocolate is her favorite. She is a chocaholic to put Willie Wonka to shame. I'm not exaggerating on this. She has told me her favorite menu in college involved a chocolate donut in the morning, a brownie for lunch and a chocolate bar in the evening. I'm sure there was some other food tossed in there for good measure, but considering her figure, it can't have been much.

So I had to present her the engagement ring in a box of chocolates. Or in a piece of chocolate itself. I considered hollowing out a truffle and slipping the ring in the bottom but decided that would be too messy. I called around and checked out various chocolate arrangements and decided a box of Godiva chocolates would be my vehicle.

Then, another opportunity presented itself. Christine is in school now, taking night classes to become a teacher. I've gone on a number of vacations (dance camp at BYU, canoeing in Black Canyon, etc.) but she hasn't been able to join me because taking a week off a ten-week session means missing a significant percentage of class time. Her family also has a tradition of going on a significant vacation (such as a cruise) each year. So, Christine has been aching for a vacation. Every now and then, especially after a tough day at the office she informs me "I really need a vacation."

The last time this subject came up, something clicked in my head. This was the opportunity I was looking for! I would whisk her off somewhere for a nice romantic weekend and at the end of it give her the chocolates and the ring and my bended knee. The possibilities were legion: a three day cruise, Warner Springs, Ensenada, Las Vegas, a resort...

"Jeff, you're not listening to me, are you?"

Shoot! Caught with my pants down. Actually, I was listening, I just wasn't processing the words coming in. I had heard the vacation complaint a number of times before, so I don't think I missed much. The Mars/Venus book says men are just supposed to listen to a woman's rant and empathize, not problem-solve. So I just nodded and made soothing sounds of concerned agreement and thought about all the calls I should make at work tomorrow.

I decided upon going to a Bed & Breakfast in the sleepy town of Julian, up the mountains a ways. I called around and settled on one called The Homestead that not only served breakfast in the morning, but also dessert in the evening. None, unfortunately, served espresso so we'd have to rough it for the weekend. Someone suggested dinner theatre and I got a restaurant recommendation. Drive up Friday, roam Julian, have dinner, have flowers waiting for her in the room when we returned that evening. Candles, oil beads for her bath, a backrub knuckler--anything to help her relax and feel pampered. Saturday, do whatever she wanted in the day (with some suggested possibilities compiled by me), dinner theatre that night with the chocolates (and ring) waiting on the bed for her.

A perfect plan!

The ball was rolling and I had already called in my credit card number for various reservations when the first crack appeared. It wasn't fifteen minutes after I had reserved our room at The Homestead when I got a call from Christine. Her sister was flying into town for the weekend and could we make plans to get together with her?

Oops.

Here was a quandary: spoil the surprise or move my plans to another weekend? I considered nonrefundable deposits and whether we had anything planned the weekend after this one. Weighing the choices I opted with revealing I had made plans, but not what they were. This made it a little difficult on Thursday evening when we met with her family for dinner and they tried to pry details out of me. Emphasizing the secrecy was ballooning it into a big deal (which it was) but I tried down-playing it and threw out a few red herrings to keep their thoughts away from Julian.

But it was no use. Every plan I tried to keep hidden kept being revealed. I came home Friday afternoon before Christine to surprise her and get things packed. My car was around the corner out of sight, but she came home from the other direction, saw the car in an unusual location, and knew I was already home. I wanted to have a chocolate candy and a milkshake ready to blend when she came in the door, but when she walked in the blender jammed and while I tried to fix it she discovered the chocolate in the refrigerator. And when I asked if she had any idea where we were going she (correctly) guessed Julian.

Two things did work out well (besides the happy ending). When we arrived at the B&B the flowers were there waiting for her, even with a note I hadn't requested saying 'with love from Jeff.' And the room itself was perfect. It was called Aunt Lucy's room had lace and frills and a brass-footed tub and fit Christine to a T. We later checked out the other rooms: Captain Jack's, Uncle Sam's, and even Grandmama's room didn't hold a candle to Aunt Lucy's. And the style matched Christine. I'm probably going to pay for it when we buy a home and the whole thing ends up looking like Aunt Lucy's house. (Except the computer room and half of the kitchen, which I claim for my domain and to be furnished how I choose. But I digress.)

(Well, I'll digress some more. You are reading the third incarnation of this tale. First, I recorded this in my daily journal. Not that I'm always this detailed recording my daily experiences, but this weekend was special. Stinkeroo. Like reading a history book. So I pared it down to a 'good parts version.' Still stinkeroo. A short history book. So I tore it down and wrote it back up from scratch. It seems like more history is starting to creep in so I'll try and fast forward.)

The food the whole weekend was pretty fabulous. Lots of it, and nothing healthy. The first night was at a place called Romano's and we had some regulars at a table next to ours that practically ordered our dinner for us. Well, I did ask for recommendations. We ended up sharing a single entree and were stuffed anyways. Breakfasts at the BB&BB were homemade with dishes like apple dumplings and stuffed french toast.

The one disappointment was the dinner theatre. Our hosts at the B&B, Mary Ellen and Dick, first tipped us off when they recommended we have the ribs. (They spoiled the surprise the night before as well so Christine found out I had made reservations both nights.) When we got to the dinner theatre the dinner was barbecue: chicken or ribs. Christine doesn't enjoy ribs so she had the chicken. The tables and chairs were folding and the theatre was decidedly low budget (think "Waiting for Guffman"). Christine had no previous expectations so she just took it for what it was, but I was expecting something more. It had its moments and we enjoyed it nonetheless.

As we were driving back, I was thinking of the box of chocolates that should be waiting for us on our bed. Christine didn't know about it, but she did know that dessert was there. This was my big downfall. I think everything would have worked out just fine if I hadn't chosen a B&B that had dessert in the evenings. The night before had baklava waiting for us, but baklava is one of the very, very few desserts that Christine doesn't like. So I was the only one who had baklava. And tonight she was thinking about the cranberry cheesecake we had been promised.

Fortune smiled upon me for a moment and then turned its back. When we came in, we headed to the bedroom to put our coats away rather than the kitchen. And yes, there were the chocolates, just like they should be. Christine melted when she saw them, but her mind was on the cheesecake. We bounded back out to the kitchen for some cake and coffee. Then, I imagined, we would go back to the room and have chocolate and the big surprise.

The cheesecake was interesting. The cranberry sauce on top was very sweet, not sour like we thought it might be. After relaxing a bit, we headed back to the room. Christine immediately dived on the chocolates and started playing with the bow, cooing little nothings like "you're so sweet" (indicating me, not the chocolates). But she didn't open them up.

This is a girl thing. You give a boy and a girl lollypops and they will immediately start into them. The boy, however, will completely devour it, probably with a few sucks and then a good crunch. The girl will lick it for about an hour, perhaps even putting it back in the wrapper halfway through so she can finish it off later. Unless the boy is watching (which he probably is) in which case she'll continue to lick it and torture him while he stares and whimpers because he's already finished his.

So I thought Christine was saving them for a little later. Perhaps she was too full from dinner and the cheesecake right now. I couldn't push them on her because then she might suspect. I was beyond butterflies. If I hadn't quashed them, the waiting probably would have caused me to gag. But when she went for the toothbrush I knew I had to act. Once the teeth had been brushed, no more food for the night. That was the law. Even truffles didn't violate the clean teeth edict.

One last chance: "So," I asked, attempting nonchalance, "no chocolates before you brush your teeth?" Would she take the bait?

"No, I'll save them for tomorrow."

Foiled again.

Morning comes, and I'm guessing when Christine will want to open the chocolates. There's a problem with after breakfast, because our hosts haven't been very good in keeping secrets. I don't want them to start congratulating and have Christine wonder why. So I slipped out to get some tea and coffee for the two of us with a hidden agenda. I inform them in hushed tones that Christine, queen of the chocaholics, opted for cheesecake instead of chocolates and hadn't opened up the box yet.

Back in the room enjoying our hot beverages I finally prodded Christine enough to have her open the chocolates. I figured she would have opened them on her own after breakfast, but some of the magic would be lost by then. So she finally grabbed the box saying "If it would make you happy..."

When she opened the box there was a little paper there telling the code for the chocolates so you could tell from the coating what the inside was before you bit into it. She busied herself with that to make me sweat some more. Then she lifted the paper to expose what was underneath...

And proceeded to match up the chocolates with the sheet of paper! I maneuvered to get a better view and yes, the ring was there but it was between two flat chocolates and at the angle she was peering at them she couldn't see it. She kept on saying the names of the chocolates as she matched them up and when she got to the foil-wrapped chocolate mint made a little yummy sound. The chocolate mint was the one that was obscuring the ring so I agreed with her saying "mmm... Chocolate mint sounds good!"

But she didn't take the hint and settled on sharing the coffee one with me. Exasperated, I played through several scenarios. I had already mentally committed to pre-breakfast over post-breakfast. Picking the chocolate mint myself would loose the effect of her discovering it on her own.

As she reached for the confection her gaze shifted angles and caught a glimpse of some different sort of gold. She moved the chocolate mint to see what lay beneath and I got the magic I was hoping for.

She was lying in bed at the time and I was kneeling on the floor beside her. I brought my leg up so I was on one knee, and with tears in both of our eyes asked her to marry me. And I wouldn't be telling this story if she didn't eventually say yes.

There was a final moment of tension when she asked me to put the ring on her finger and I couldn't get it over her knuckle. I had sized it against an other of her rings so I was sure it would fit, but it turns out I was just being too gentle and with a little more gusto it slipped on.

When we emerged for breakfast (late) Mary Ellen and Dick were worrying about what happened because Christine came out with her hands behind her back and they couldn't tell if she had the ring or not. As she went off to get some more tea they looked at me questioningly and I nodded my head. Mary Ellen squealed and hugged Christine and everyone had to see the ring. It turns out another couple at the B&B were celebrating their one year anniversary and various engagement stories were swapped.

Breakfast was wonderful and we spent a few more magical hours in the mountains before contentedly coming home. Tradition says if the father hasn't been asked permission for his daughter's hand in marriage, they should be called first. The first thing they asked us (after the initial congratulations) was:

"Have you set a date?"