At Times I Am Downright Maniacal

I think we need to face a few facts here. Marriage ain’t easy. True story. Hell, what, half of marriages end in divorce. Good odds for betting on a horse but not on the rest of your entire life!

Know why it happens? Not truly because of horrible arguments, tantalizing infidelity, or mind-numbing monotony. No! “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” so they say, and the crucial first step is the proposal.

Times are changing, people. That whole “down on one knee with a ring” claptrap is passé now. Get with the times! Want to fit in with the young and hip, you square? Consider these new proposal traditions that will totally set you up to score. (Let’s face it. You get married for the honeymoon and that’s it.)

The new standard proposal is not set in some smaltzy restaurant with violins and that garbage. No, these days the most appropriate backdrop for the first day of the rest of your life is the ballpark. The Jumbo-tron! Big-league, baby! Nothing says “I wanna love you forever” like proposing to your sweetie while thousands of people watch her on a huge screen. She’s not wearing makeup and she has on that sort of crummy windbreaker she keeps meaning to replace but she wore anyway because nothing exciting ever happens at a Mets game anyway? Perfect! It’s romantic and she’ll love it and you can probably get a free hotdog or something if she says yes.

Too tame for you? Want something that really shows how great a guy you are? Women love commitment. Everyone knows that. Ever since a caveman cracked a woman in the skull with a rock and took her back to his cave and then, the next day, cracked that ­same woman with that same rock, men have known commitment is a big deal. Does a little circle of metal really show you’re commited? Heck no! It shows you have enough money to buy a briquette that got compressed by pressure and crystallized differently. No no, soon-to-be groom, take a page from your high-school playbook and call shotgun. Calling shotgun on your way to a car shows that you are committed enough to this drive that you want to ride as the passenger. So what better way to tell a woman you want her to be a passenger in your tricked-out lowrider to your golden years than a shotgun wedding? Truly there is nothing more wonderful than the sounds of an apparently non-forward thinking father-to-be shouting “oh my God you’re what? What? Mine? What?! Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod your dad is going to kill me!”

But still, these matters of proposing to that special someone are not good enough for me. Laugh at my arrogance if you must, but the fact is I want a wedding proposal that is full of risk, action, drama, and romance. Like an episode of “Cops” with commercials for “Desperate Housewives.” Women, as mentioned, like commitment. They also like self-confidence and a man who makes plans. Not dinner plans. Life plans. A lot of wedding-stress comes from the actual planning of the wedding. Do not let that fall on my darling’s shoulders! I will plan it. I will plan everything. You know how much people love surprise parties, right? Imagine a surprise wedding! Naturally I can’t invite any of her friends since they’d probably blow it. Her family is out too, unless she has a sister with a taste for hijinks. I’ll pick her up, tell her to dress nice because we’re going someplace fancy like Red Lobster or Medieval Times, and then holy crap we’re at the church! (Unless she wants a non-religious ceremony, but then again I can’t really ask her so yeah, the church.) Even now my heart flutters with thoughts of her voice crying out with delight:

“What the hell? What is this? A what?! Are you insane? Get away from me! No! Get away! This is the worst third date ever!”

I have never been particularly great with the fairer sex. “But JD,” I hear you cry, “you are so handsome and charming and witty to boot!” Thank you. That is so kind of you to say. You are a good person. “True,” I reply, “I am all these things and more, but how can I showcase my humor and linguistic grace if I never actually start a conversation?”

The fact of the matter is that I’m a bit shy and nervous about these things. I’ll go out with a friend or two, cruise the bars, have a few beers or what-have-you, but I don’t talk to strangers. (This is good advice, actually. They should teach that to kids.) I’ve never actually done the singles scene outside of college. So what the hell do I do? It is a social scene for which I have little frame of reference. The first night out I watched people. Since I’m over six and a half feet tall, I can easily look down on a somewhat crowded bar and observe. Some guys would simply go up and introduce themselves, hand outstretched. They looked a bit like used car salesmen. Still others would just go up and begin dancing with the girl of his choice sans her consent. I do not approve of launching myself headlong into someone else’s personal space, so this is not the route for me.

Furthermore, once I’m in the conversation, things are going well, good times all around, I have no clue how to segue into the “well how about you give me your number and I’ll give you a call sometime.” Aside from the fact that a lot of people have told me “no one really picks people up in bars, not for real relationships” it IS (and I know I run the risk of sounding like a misogynist but here I go anyway) almost like a score. A touchdown, if you will. Katie, my comrade in arms for these skirmishes in the battle of the sexes, and I have a running game to see who can get more numbers on these bar outings. The score is lame to depressing in the first quarter. She has home field advantage, though. She’s a girl. To change metaphor-gears into something a bit more historical, she’s a gatherer, she’s supposed to gather. As the big hairy man, it is my task to stalk the plains and hunt.

Hunt for numbers? Yes indeed! My pride is on the line now that there’s a running challenge. So be it, then, Katie, bring your A-game. Tonight is round three. The score is currently a very 1960’s luv-all, but I have a fresh batch of confidence and some beer money. Game on!