I was sitting around a table with my old high school girlfriends (note that I mean the friendship is old; we aren’t). There was a bit of music playing and a bit of wine flowing. The subject turned to one friend’s son’s recent engagement announcement. Of course we wanted to know all the details of the proposal: Who, what, where and when, what the ring looks like and how romantic the proposal was on a scale of 1 to 10. Given all the videos on social media that portray husbands-to-be staging elaborate proposals complete with friends, family, photographers and the dog present, we knew the pressure was on for the poor guy to produce a unique and memorable moment.
I know I risk sounding old here, when I just pointed out in the previous paragraph that I’m not, but–my, how times have changed. After hearing a few stories about all the modern proposal fanfare, I posed this question to my friends as we refilled our glasses:
“How did your husband propose to you?”
Every answer was the same.
Each one of our future husbands had stowed an unpretentious diamond ring in the glove box of his car and took his bride-to-be on a drive before popping the question. Right there in the front seat. No cameras, no crowds, no confetti. Just two people. On a back road or a side street or (in my case) an airport parking lot. We didn’t record the event. We couldn’t post the announcement seconds later to gather in the accolades. And we didn’t have parents hovering around. We actually had to drive to our parents’ homes later and deliver the good news in person. And we called our siblings the next day from our landlines.
My friends’ spouses are all from the same hometown. I was in their weddings and they were in mine. All of our ceremonies were held in the same majestic Catholic Church, where we also received Baptism, First Communion and Confirmation. Our diamond rings were all purchased at the same jewelry store located on Main Street of the nearby county seat. I am the only one who moved from our hometown, albeit a mere 15 miles down the road. We are a pretty solid, traditional group, especially compared to today’s culture. And we are all now approaching our 30th wedding anniversaries.
We’re also pretty happy.
Our hype-free proposal experiences may sound archaic to “kids these days” (yes, another phrase that makes me sound old). But I’m not going to knock it. In fact, I am grateful for it. Our glove-box men are dependable, faithful, hard-working guys. Our glove-box marriages have withstood wave after wave of challenges. Our glove-box rings still shine on our left hands after 30 long years. Thank you, God, for your many blessings on us over the years!
I think that calls for cameras, crowds and confetti. Don’t you?
