mariposaduende: transhumanisticpanspermia: i have limited sympathy for people who get told “no”…

Wednesday, December 31st, 2014



i have limited sympathy for people who get told “no” after a public proposal because public proposals are pretty much emotionally abusive

like seriously

if you think it’s kinda cute, you can discuss it beforehand and then do a staged one later

but putting someone on the spot in front of a crowd of strangers (or worse, friends) and demanding they give you a yes or no answer to a complex question which will affect the rest of their life is

really not okay

I wouldn’t go as far as saying its abusive, but it can sometimes be very manipulative. Maybe for some, they think a grand gesture of proclaiming a proposal in public is utterly romantic but if their partner is shy or has social anxiety then it’s just plain stupid. I hope everyone reading this think about personalizing their proposals into something they know will thrill their partner. Or it doesn’t even have to be a surprise thing at all,

I didn’t do a very good job of planning my proposal.

We were sitting in the tiny breakfast nook in our tiny triplex apartment in Mar Vista. “Nook” is hyperbole; it was the place where the tiny kitchen made a right angle into the tiny living room, where we’d put the small circular butcher block table that was the first item of furniture we’d ever bought together. You could just squeeze around it.

There was a peach tree outside that window, in the tiny space between our building and the fence, with another building beyond. The setbacks (a term I wouldn’t actually learn until years later) were only about three feet on that side. We all lived in each other’s backyards.

We were eating breakfast. I don’t remember what it was, but probably scrambled eggs. There was nothing unusual about that morning. We’d moved in together a few months before; it just seemed to make financial sense. I’d basically been living at the apartment she shared with her sister anyway, and by moving in together we could get a place closer to UCLA that was just ours, the two of us, which was all we really wanted.

I picked up a forkful of eggs (or whatever it was), and on its way to my mouth a new thought occurred to me, and I spoke it without pausing to consider.

‘You know, all I want to do is live with you for the rest of my life. I can’t imagine that changing. Do you want to get married?’

I was curious what she’d say.

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