Marriage Proposals Most Women Should Turn Down
You love your man. He is there for you. Aware for you. Right wrong, weak, strong, he’ll Care for you. But the moment of truth has come. Should you marry him, buy a house, maybe get a baby — somehow — or at least adopt a shelter rescue?
Be sure. “Shelter rescue” refers to a future pet, not the man. Unless a rare series of unfortunate events has befallen him which makes it perfectly logical that you have found him in a rescue shelter, you should explore other places to find mates as well. For example, find a trait you share, like eating. Randomly introduce yourself at grocery stores to strangers in the produce section, but don’t push for a proposal before check out. That comes across as desperate.
Nevertheless, how will you know this is the one? How will you know his proposal is good enough?
Here are some clues to guide you, and some proposals to avoid.
-He asks you to marry him when you are both throwing up. You’ve had a great time, but too many margaritas after bowling, followed by too many jello shots while Netflix binging has consequence. Right now your true self is swirling down the toilet, while your head reels like stars — or whatever that is — glaring in your eyes. What? Is that dazzle a diamond, or the sun? What did he say? “Howz ‘bout you murrry me?”
Shower and get some coffee. Tell him you want to feel ¾ human before considering a lifetime to be mostly forgotten in black-outs and purple haze.
-He asks you to marry him fifteen years to the date when he gets his high school equivalency and a school ring. It will be June 30, 2030.
-He asks you to marry him while they drag him away in handcuffs. He is screaming, “Marry me, Mary. I didn’t kill them! Marry me, Mary.” Your whole family, including sociopathic cousin Mary, who is named for your dying mother Mary, is tied up and sprawled in blood. They are bound with mismatched geometric and floral sheets, curtains and tea cozy covers.
There are several things askew with this proposal. It is very last minute. The linens are sloppy, frayed, and even stained. Your family was introduced to him just last night before the heated discussion about neo-Nazi inclusion and viability of a new political party based on Vegan Deep State conspiracy theories. You love satin flowers. He loves Satan flowers. You do not know what ‘Satan flowers’ are. Your name is not Mary.
-He asks you to marry him with a text. It says: “Wed us? lemme no later, I got a game.”
-He takes you up in a romantic hot air balloon at sunset. The twilight is gorgeous, the wine is sweet. The refreshments are delicious. He looks like a movie star. He is a movie star. He is Tom Cruise. Jump. It’s a better deal.
-He loves nature, simplicity, women and children. He won’t stop talking about taking you to live at the small-town country estate where he grew up. There is breathing room there, natural beauty and no traffic, rat race, or roar of machinery. He even ties a ruby engagement ring on picnic basket ribbon he brought. You can’t wait to go away with him until he explains “although this is quite sudden, Sister wives Sue-May, Penny and Sara will teach you all the chores and live-stock duties.” As you turn pale he soothes “Relax, your six new ‘sister mothers’-in-law’ will help you learn the names of his sixty-two brothers and sisters.”
-He writes a column about all the ways a man can be more attune, aware, awoke and alive. He is a divine lover. He is the world’s richest kitten coach and articulate public speaker. At the world’s largest FEM & FELINE FINE convention He greets you with sweet kisses of adoration, showering rose petals and massaging your feet. You notice you only see him at night. You realize he’s a dream. Wake up!
-At the Renaissance festival he falls down on one knee. “Sweet Chuck of the dawn,” He begins, “Please let this apricot sized pearl plucked from the very moon grace your hand as you pledge me thy troth. Your eyes doth outshine this mere bagatelle, yet, let me bestow thee…blah blah blah” You lose interest. Turn away. Is that other cute guy with a sheath of arrows wearing leather tights? Okay, Cupid!
-At your big family reunion, he pops the question while gushing over your mom’s embarrassing jello-ramen salad, and your dad’s really inept card tricks. They can’t stop telling you how much they love him. Your mom insists on sitting in his lap. Your dad keeps spitting on the folded card corners. They always wanted a son. They never liked you that much. Go.
-He explains to you how much better your honeymoon would be with a third person. You are skeptical, but open to it until he describes the three-way with a beautiful lingerie clad blonde. She is also a goat. That’s not consensual. Baaaaa-d idea.
-You realize every beautiful love letter he has written to you is plagiarized; written by Melania Trump to someone Melania once loved with all the heart and soul she once had.