3 Things I Learned in the First Month of my Engagement
In December, during an impromptu snowball fight on the roof of my apartment building, my boyfriend dropped to one knee and asked me to marry him.
I was so excited that I grabbed the ring straight out of the box. 15 minutes later my mind caught up with itself and I said, "Wait a minute, you were supposed to put it on me."
Q. How easygoing is Bryan?
A. He got back on one knee and let me take the ring off so he could put it on me.
In the immediate aftermath, we both hugged each other, shivered a bit, and realized that there's no social script for what you're supposed to say next, after "yes."
About 20 minutes in, I said, "We should call our parents, right?" Bryan nodded, but neither of us reached for a phone.
Five minutes after that, I sheepishly said, "Well, I'm supposed to be writing a final paper right now, but maybe you could call your parents first?"
Q. How square is Claire?
A. She started doing homework during her own engagement announcement.
Then Bryan's father butt-dialed him, so as long as we had him on the phone, we decided to break the news. And once one parent knew, it didn't feel right not to tell the others. And then my father mentioned that I should tell my grandmother, my great-aunt, my two uncles, my four aunts, and maybe think about putting the word out to some of our friends . . .
Q. How do I know I should be calling my relatives more often?
A. 4 separate individuals answered the phone with, "Is everyone all right?"
I didn't finish that paper until the following week.
The holidays turned into a long series of introductions and announcements to various sides of our families. As a bonus, on January 6 my mother's side of the family gathered for my grandmother's 90th birthday. I got to introduce Bryan to pretty much everyone my grandmother knows, is related to, and/or lives near.
Over the past 5 weeks, I've learned 3 important things about being engaged.
1. The whole wedding industry is sexist.
Every single wedding website, catalog, and magazine touts itself as "the place for brides!" Every venue says "we work with each bride to customize the event." And when we decided we should get a "wedding binder" to help us document the planning process, it arrived with the title A Bride's Planner. Its introduction page says, and I quote, "Think what a great keepsake this will be for your daughter someday!"
Seriously, America, there's a few problems with your assumptions here. First, not every wedding even has a bride. Where do all these venues/websites/catalogs expect gay men to get their planning tips?
Second, even if there is a bride, why on earth is she supposed to be doing everything herself? Doesn't she have a job or an education (or in my case, both) taking up her time? Besides which, a wedding is a big deal for the bride and the groom. If they're both going to enjoy the event, they both need to have input on the planning process.
In conclusion, I've been signing all my inquiry emails with Bryan's name to balance things out.
2. People have questions.
Some of these questions I was expecting, e.g. "When's the big day?" Others were unexpected, but not too surprising, e.g. "Where are you planning to live?" and "Are you going to invite [insert name of relative we last saw in the previous century]?"
But then there's other questions, ones I never expected because it never occurred to me that these things mattered to other people. A small smattering:
Q: "Do you realize your grandmother wants great-grandchildren?" - My grandmother's next-door-neighbor's-granddaughter
I was so excited that I grabbed the ring straight out of the box. 15 minutes later my mind caught up with itself and I said, "Wait a minute, you were supposed to put it on me."
Q. How easygoing is Bryan?
A. He got back on one knee and let me take the ring off so he could put it on me.
In the immediate aftermath, we both hugged each other, shivered a bit, and realized that there's no social script for what you're supposed to say next, after "yes."
About 20 minutes in, I said, "We should call our parents, right?" Bryan nodded, but neither of us reached for a phone.
Five minutes after that, I sheepishly said, "Well, I'm supposed to be writing a final paper right now, but maybe you could call your parents first?"
Q. How square is Claire?
A. She started doing homework during her own engagement announcement.
Then Bryan's father butt-dialed him, so as long as we had him on the phone, we decided to break the news. And once one parent knew, it didn't feel right not to tell the others. And then my father mentioned that I should tell my grandmother, my great-aunt, my two uncles, my four aunts, and maybe think about putting the word out to some of our friends . . .
Q. How do I know I should be calling my relatives more often?
A. 4 separate individuals answered the phone with, "Is everyone all right?"
I didn't finish that paper until the following week.
The holidays turned into a long series of introductions and announcements to various sides of our families. As a bonus, on January 6 my mother's side of the family gathered for my grandmother's 90th birthday. I got to introduce Bryan to pretty much everyone my grandmother knows, is related to, and/or lives near.
Over the past 5 weeks, I've learned 3 important things about being engaged.
1. The whole wedding industry is sexist.
Every single wedding website, catalog, and magazine touts itself as "the place for brides!" Every venue says "we work with each bride to customize the event." And when we decided we should get a "wedding binder" to help us document the planning process, it arrived with the title A Bride's Planner. Its introduction page says, and I quote, "Think what a great keepsake this will be for your daughter someday!"
Seriously, America, there's a few problems with your assumptions here. First, not every wedding even has a bride. Where do all these venues/websites/catalogs expect gay men to get their planning tips?
Second, even if there is a bride, why on earth is she supposed to be doing everything herself? Doesn't she have a job or an education (or in my case, both) taking up her time? Besides which, a wedding is a big deal for the bride and the groom. If they're both going to enjoy the event, they both need to have input on the planning process.
In conclusion, I've been signing all my inquiry emails with Bryan's name to balance things out.
2. People have questions.
Some of these questions I was expecting, e.g. "When's the big day?" Others were unexpected, but not too surprising, e.g. "Where are you planning to live?" and "Are you going to invite [insert name of relative we last saw in the previous century]?"
But then there's other questions, ones I never expected because it never occurred to me that these things mattered to other people. A small smattering:
Q: "Do you realize your grandmother wants great-grandchildren?" - My grandmother's next-door-neighbor's-granddaughter
A: "Uh, good to see you too."
Q: "Do you think you'll buy a house?" - Childhood best friend
A: "Dear God, no."
Q: "Are you going to have a round cake, or an oblong cake? Because I have a round cake stand, but I don't have an oblong cake stand." - Grandmother
A: "WE ARE NOT UP TO THE CAKE-SELECTION PART OF THIS."
On top of the questions from other people, Bryan and I have discovered a vast pool of questions we need to ask ourselves, e.g.
- Should we invite kids to this wedding?
- What state are most of our cousins in at any given moment?
- Do we want to set a date for before or after I graduate grad school?
- Can we learn to dance between now and then?
- Why are so many venues not handicapped-accessible?
- Where can we buy braille invitation cards?
- Could we e-mail the visually impaired guests instead?
- Would people complain if I stood at the altar and my parents walked Bryan down the aisle? [I'm supposed to avoid tripping hazards, you see.]
3. Nothing can get us down.
Bryan and I have known each other for over 10 years, went on our first date 8 years ago, and spent over 4 years in a long-distance relationship. In the past decade, we've gone from "high schoolers with one shared lunch period per week" to "self-supporting adults who are crazy about each other." You will notice that these are the same 10 years in which I went from "reasonably healthy asthmatic" to "permanently partially disabled." Sticking together this long, and falling more in love all the time, has been the unlikeliest, best thing that's ever happened to either of us.
Which means the only question that really mattered was the first one, "Will you marry me?" And that one had an obvious answer.
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| December 9, 2017. Yes, I totally painted my nails to match my ring before I took this picture. |
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