A note from me,
I do hope you’re having a fantastic morning and start to your week. At least the weather is starting to warm up, right?
I wanted to write about something a little different (and yet the same) today. I’ve written so much about the negatives of some of my relationships. Maybe the two of us share something in common with what we’ve been through. Or at least share some emotions from our past relationships. Well, this time around I wanted to touch on a happy moment. A moment from my failed relationship that can still put a smile on my face.
The title says it all. So, if you keep reading, you’ll know how I proposed to my then-girlfriend now-ex-wife. Hopefully you enjoy (and there’s some audio from me at the end of the article as well).
How I Proposed To My Ex-Wife
“Well?”
“Well...what?”
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Wait, I didn’t ask?”
She laughed a nervous, happy, excited laugh. “No.”
I somehow forgot to ask my girlfriend to marry me. In the middle of the proposal. One knee on the sticky floor in front of her. Ring in its blue box. All on the line. Maybe it was nerves getting in the way. Maybe it was fate giving me one last opportunity to rethink it.
“Oh my god. I’m just, you know...well, I mean...would you marry me?”
And with that, I kicked nerves and fate aside and asked my girlfriend to marry me.
Putting It Together
I had the perfect idea.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself. Sometimes my perfect ideas end up being anything but, but my confidence in the proposal just sounded too perfect as my brain thumbed it over.
We met in film school. So, I’d propose to her in a movie theater. More specifically, I’d rent out a showtime and have the projectionist play a trailer of our relationship I put together and edited myself (I did specialize in film editing and screenwriting while in college. Nice to be able to use that ol’ college degree).
Creating the trailer proved to be the easiest task of the entire proposal pre-production. During our early days of spending time together, we often met at coffee shops. I’d order a chai tea, she’d order a coffee with as much whipped cream as the mug could hold. So, Landon Pigg’s Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop accompanied the video track (before segwaying into Dave Matthew’s You & Me).
Everything else took work. Securing the ring in itself is another story, but enough hoops were jumped through to purchase it (and I learned the valuable lesson of trying to buy a ring with a debit card. Banks tend to freeze assets when a five-figure purchase is being made out of the blue).
Working with the movie theater brought with it some of its own issues. I called the local cinema, who connected me to the manager, who connected me with the special productions manager, who connected me with someone else. I told my plan to each person, and each person seemed cool to help, they just didn’t know if they could or if they had the authority. But, eventually, after weeks of phone calls, weeks of organizations, and a dry run-through at the cinema, we had everything set.
I’d arrive with my girlfriend at the movie theater, we’d take a seat, lights would dim, a normal trailer and commercial would play, then “our” trailer would play.
My chest as I write about it now is fully beating with anticipation. With excitement. Nerves of yesteryear back as the memory of such an anticipated day return. Our marriage didn’t last. We barely got off the ground. But I still have fond memories of the proposal and the way it went off.
Even though it almost didn’t.
Show Time
“Hey, so my dad wants to see a movie with us today,” I lied. Outside of the projectionist and whomever, the projectionist told, nobody knew my plans for the evening.
“What does he want to see,” she asked as she opened the refrigerator.
“Jennifer’s Body.” The horror movie was the only time slot the movie theater had available.
“He wants to see that?”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
“I think I’ll pass on that one. I’ll let it be a boy's night out.”
I was afraid that would happen. Not exactly the horror film enthusiast, going to see a random flick with Megan Fox as a vampire, or something of that nature did not appeal to her film sense.
“My dad said he really wants you to come.”
“Why?”
“He...just likes having you around.”
“That’s sweet, but maybe next time.”
My brain bobbled around, searching for answers like one of those enclosed games with the single marble where you try to get it through a maze to a hole at the other end. I needed to push her through that maize.
“I’ll buy dinner after.”
“Where to?”
“Wherever you want.”
She sighed, signaling I won. My chest relaxed a bit, although nerves still ate away at every breath.
“Okay. What time is the movie?”
“Um, 6:30.”
“Well, we better get going then.”
At the movie theater, we walked past the box office. I already had my tickets printed. Tickets to a show time that didn’t exist. At least not for anyone else.
“Hey, our show time isn’t listed.”
“That’s weird,” I said and kept moving. We were too close. I didn’t want it to unravel from there. I showed her our tickets before handing them to the girl at the ticket counter. She looked at me and smiled, offering a wink when she knew my girlfriend wasn’t looking.
So the projectionist had told someone.
We walked in and sat in the middle of the back row. A smaller theater. Perfect for us. After a few minutes, the lights dimmed.
“Where’s your dad?”
“Must be running late.”
The first commercial played.
My chest burned from the heat of my heart. From its thumping. I couldn’t breathe fast enough to cool it. I tried to hide the staccato breaths. Hide my rapidly rising and lowering shoulders. Hide my hand fidgeting in the pocket with the ring box.
The first trailer played.
It lasted forever. Every frame of film a frame too long. It dragged out time. It dragged out my soul. My humanity. I closed my eyes to steady myself. To ready myself. To prepare myself. I wanted to yell and cry and run and curl into a ball. I wanted to--
The next trailer started.
Our trailer.
The opening guitar chord with a black screen.
“I love this song,” I heard her say.
“Once upon a time,” text on the screen responded, appearing in the left corner. “There was a girl,” then appeared in the lower right.
Lyrics sang out, “I think that possibly, maybe I’ve fallen for you,” as she appeared on the screen.
Her hand went to my hand. I was trembling. Or maybe it was her.
“Yes, there’s a chance I’ve fallen quite hard over you.”
As the trailer continued my chest ripped open, my heart pushing out fully and completely. As naked and exposed as it might ever be. It controlled my movements and my tongue.
“It’s true. I’ve fallen quite hard over you, and I’m more in love with you than with lie itself.” I offered her the blue box. I watched her open it and slide the ring onto her finger.
I waited.
“Well?” She asked.
“Well...what?”
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Wait, I didn’t ask? Oh my god. I’m just, you know...well...would you marry me?”
“Yes, yes of course.”
We kissed. My exposed heart merged with hers. It became part of her. She became part of me. We floated out of the theater, the projectionist and the ticket girl smiling and clapping. They were the first to congratulate us that night. The first of many.
Fin
Most good things come to an end. They leave us. Sometimes the leaving requires the splitting of a merged heart. But it’s not surgically separated. It’s ripped and torn apart. Sometimes there’s no other way. And yet, it leaves us with these happy moments.
I haven’t thought of my proposal in a long time. Just that I had done it and that I had, once upon a time, been married. Until right now I hadn’t stopped to think of it. I hadn’t let the emotions return. I hadn’t the smile it brings. The warmth it creates.
As I’m ending this, I have the music playing in my headphones. There’s a tear stuck along my nose. Not one of sadness, of what’s gone, but instead of the feelings that still are.
I’d be willing to bet, even after one relationship comes to an end and fades away into the horizon you have your own moments and memories that might bring a smile to your face, and a tear to your eye.
"Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance" - Garth Brooks "The Dance"