MOWER

BRIDE'S GUIDE COLUMN Asking the eternal question

by Daniel Mower MOW01002@BYUI.EDU Scroll Staff

I have the greatest comeback.

When I bring out this point, I’m positive that all past discretions will be pardoned and that all future misdeeds will be exonerated.

It’s not that I anticipate arguing with my wonderful wife. I know I shouldn’t “keep points” in my mind. I’ll blame it on human nature if I have to, but this one’s just too good.

The comeback is: “Well, I had to propose.”

You may believe that proposing is a one-time deal: a romantic evening, a ring, a kiss and it’s done. Not so. Proposing is a prolonged process that involves spending money, intense self-scrutiny, bouts with schizophrenia, indecision, doubt, anticipation and countless hours spent pondering the universe.

Popping the question is just a kind of formality. For me, this process began one evening while I was dating my wife-to-be. As I sat there transfixed by her deep, beautiful eyes, a bizarre urge came into my brain. Before I knew what I was saying, the words “I love you” popped out of my mouth.

I sat there, a freshly inaugurated fool, waiting for her to melt in my embrace . . . or something. She left me hanging in tortured silence for a full 10 minutes. I actually can’t remember what she said to me after that. I just remember watching helplessly as the flicker of light at the end of the tunnel moved completely out of sight.

The following months of our courtship ranged between blissful and melodramatic. Let me reassure those of you who haven’t received your “divine confirmation” that all is not lost. Whenever we had those “talks” about our relationship, I got this knot in my stomach that once actually resulted in my puking in one of the flower beds on campus (apologies to the grounds workers).

Now, some people would take that as a sign –— myself included. I decided to break up (even though I wasn’t sure we were officially dating).

Let me tell you, I felt a LOT better after I made that decision. Life was finally back to normal. This phase in the proposal process lasted only a few days.

The next time we met, we ended up riding in the back seat of a car together. She plopped her hand palm up on the seat right next to mine . . .

I’m not going to offer any excuses. We all know that women have built into them a device that has the sole purpose of messing with men’s minds. Using extra sensory perception, a woman’s brain can send out conflicting signals that basically break down a man’s natural barriers of sense and reason.

Need I point out the danger of associating with a woman that possesses such a weapon but doesn’t realize it?

Do I have to describe the turmoil of a young man caught in such a predicament? I didn’t even know if I really loved her, much less whether she loved me (I realize now that I was trying to convince us both).

I eventually reached a decision regarding the future that snatched me from the swirling clouds of confusion and stood me firmly on my feet in front of destiny.

The decision was, “oh, what the heck.”

So, one evening after many hours of ring searching and planning, we took a drive out to her grandparent’s place. I did my best to act completely normal (my wife can tell you that this is difficult for me under any circumstances).

I won’t go into detail about the actual proposal. I can summarize by saying I don’t think I ever remember being so nervous for so long. I couldn’t eat. Grandma nearly spilled the beans twice. Dim lights, a Christmas tree, a dance and a ring.

She said yes.

My wife and I have since had many fun discussions about those months of dating and engagement.

I’ve had the chance to explain to her about female brain waves. She’s had a chance to tell me about the competition I didn’t even know I had (yikes!).

I’ve tried to explain to her that mixed feeling between confusion, excitement, love and dread that floated in my stomach for so long, but I’ve come to realize that it really doesn’t matter.

Yes, it will make a great comeback someday, but deep down I’ll always know that she was worth every minute of it.