The Engagement: Confetti Magazine
Title: The Engagement
Author: Jonathan McCrea
Date: 22nd June 2009
Publication: Confetti
Title: The Engagement
Author: Jonathan McCrea
Date: 22nd June 2009
Publication: Confetti
The first time I really got nervous was walking down the driveway of Dara’s family home. I was about to ask her father’s permission. Freshly shaven and wearing my only decent suit, the magnitude of the occasion hit me for the first time. I’d never thought about it, but after today there would be no going back. It’s not like test-driving the latest Renault Megane, you can’t ask a man’s permission to marry his daughter and then change your mind.
There really was no reason to be nervous; Dara’s parents are the nicest, sweetest people you could meet. Larry is like the granddad from the Werther’s Originals ads and Carrie would cut off her own leg off if she thought you’d have any use for it. I still managed to make a mess of it though. I was clearly unprepared for the emotion of it all because I couldn’t get the theme tune to Karate Kid 2 out of my head: Peter Cetera’s Glory of Love. I am a man who will fight for her honour – I’ll be the hero you’re dreaming of – We’ll live forever-Knowing together that we did it all – for the Glory of Love (it’s an incredible 80’s power ballad, you should Youtube it later).
I had intended to make a grand speech about how even in tough times we’d have each other, but instead I ended up blurting out something ridiculous like: “My love for her will weather all storms”. Bleurgh, what a cringefest. Bless them though, they kissed and hugged me as if I were Peter Cetera himself: they would be delighted to welcome me to the family.
Having vaulted the first obstacle in such spectacular fashion, I was on a high: it was time to get the ring. It’s a steep learning curve for blokes, shopping for a diamond. I was sat down and lectured on the four C’s: clarity, cut, carat and colour. Then I was urged to consider certificates, laser signatures, the Kimberley process, culets, facets, polish grades and girdles. It was total information overload, I thought I was going to have a nosebleed like in that scene in Johnny Mnemonic where they stick a USB cable into Keanu Reeves’ head and upload too much data to his brain.
As if all these picky details weren’t confusing enough, the actual price that’s on the tag isn’t the price at all. There’s an interesting quirk you notice when talking to sales staff in jewellery shops. I first spotted it at a posh high street store with a girl we’ll call Cathy. Every time I queried the cost of one ring or another her eyes would dart up and to the left before she answered. Pyschophysiologists call this a “visual accessing cue”, a sign that the person is accessing his or her creative part of the brain. Roughly translated, Cathy was plucking figures out of thin air. In fact, most stores have a considerable margin of “leeway” with the asking price, which is why, rather frustratingly, no-one will quote you over the phone. The real cost of the ring is how much the person at the other side of the table thinks you’ll pay for it. After two weeks of haggling that would make a Moroccan street trader blush, I eventually picked something shiny that I couldn’t afford and I was all set.
Finally, it was time to pop the question. We were on holidays in France. Standing on a rocky beach in Nice I got down on one knee and asked her to be my wife. A long time passed. In the distance, tumbleweed rolled across the sand and from somewhere on the horizon, the faint sound of a clocktower tolled. I had been not been expecting this. I had imagined a jubilant “Yes!” perhaps a small jump for joy, maybe even some tears. Eventually, she spoke. “Are you serious?” In an attempt to advance proceedings I mentioned that my knee was starting to go numb. After another, longer pause, she finally mumbled something cheeky about not getting any younger and acquiesced: we were engaged. It was the happiest day of my life…
In the days that followed we filled our fridge twice over with champagne from well-wishing friends and family. It’s been serving us well as an anaesthetic to the shock of it all. I can’t believe we’re actually getting married. Only 12 months until the big day. Is it weird for the groom to be as excited as the bride?