Rules of disengagement — Daniela pt. 2
Making Daniela laugh was my absolute favourite thing to do. She hated to admit I was funny because it made my ego gigantic. She’d regularly chastise some of her friends who I liked to joke around with as they particularly enjoyed my brand of humour, saying “he’s loving this, you know!” as she’d have to deal with my self-satisfaction for the next few days. But we’d laugh just the two of us as well. It was all very loving.
We were back in Winnipeg and going strong. It felt like every day we were developing new inside jokes with our antics, whether it was holding hands as we walked through the grocery store (which we loved to go to together for some reason) or going out to a fancy restaurant. Some inside jokes would last a day, and some would stay for a while.
She made me laugh a lot too, not because she was pulling out witty one-liners or wry observations, but because she would just put herself out there all the time in such a genuine way with no inhibition. Proudly singing misheard lyrics in the car or just making them up when she knew she didn’t know them at her full glorious volume; nothing could stop her from living in the moment and enjoying life. Her earnestness in every situation, no matter the circumstances, was delightful. But also very funny.
One time, she was trying to support a friend by signing me up with them for what she believed was something like a “walk-a-thon” but for working out — a work-out-a-thon. She always felt she was a little bigger than she’d like to be (“fluffier” was how she termed it), and while I was more active, I was still rail-thin at around 135 pounds while standing six feet tall. We showed up in our best workout gear, looking the part from head to toe, only to discover this was not a work-out-a-thon, it was in fact a hardcore CrossFit competition. People with thigh muscles thicker than my whole torso were lifting tractor tires and doing burpee sprints. Apparently, something was lost in translation and Daniela thought “CrossFit” was just the name of some gym. She assumed that since we worked out together to Beach Body DVDs every few days, that was equivalent. We were politely told that we were not allowed to compete for liability reasons, and Daniela was slightly embarrassed and tearing up a bit until she saw that her friend and I were insanely relieved to not have to participate. It turned from tears to laughter right away. We still bought and ate some baking to help them raise money, so we were probably the only people there to actually gain weight at the competition.
But most of our laughs just came from constantly talking with each other. Daniela could talk to anyone about anything. She was a social butterfly, inherently curious about people and able to speak endlessly with friends and family or even to complete strangers. I had actually won my high school superlative for “biggest chatterbox” and was so shocked and embarrassed that I clammed up for years afterward, up to when I met Daniela (she told me she won “most gullible” at hers, which certainly explained some sense of her earnestness). But I felt not only free to be able to speak my thoughts with her but rewarded and encouraged as we could just chat days away with our thoughts on everything.
The new topic though was what she was going to do moving forward. I had always thought the Creative Communications program that I had graduated from would be perfect for her. She was creative, smart, and far more organized than I was. People just seemed to love her, and with a vocation that was so interpersonal, I thought she’d be fantastic at it. I figured people in the business world could fall for her like I had. And I’d be there to help her out since I’d only finished the program a couple of years before. It took some convincing, but eventually, she signed up for it.
We’d been together for around seven years at that point. We were in our late 20s, and by all measures, it looked like we were going to be together forever. She had friends who were getting married or starting to have children, and some of my friends were in the “thinking about it” stage too.
But I’d been locked in for some time. I’d dropped the ol’ L-bomb on her about a month into dating. And I didn’t go too many days without saying it seven years later. We’d had many conversations about marriage and kids. She didn’t value getting married that much since her parents were never married, but did say that if she ever got married she liked the idea of a big celebratory wedding filled with friends and family. That’d be much more preferable than a courthouse formality. Those conversations were becoming more frequent and more serious as she approached her first year of Creative Communications. I had a solid job, she was on a great path, and we were living together. All these pieces were falling into place.
We’d talked before that a surprise proposal was out of the question, so I wanted to get on the same page. One day I brought up that I was thinking of buying an engagement ring for her.
“What do you think?”
She was hesitant. We talked some more about it. We’d discussed the unethical diamond trade, different types of gems and stones, metals for the rings, everything. Our conversation evolved into approaching the idea in a very matter-of-fact way. And the more we talked, the more it seemed like she was into it. I tried to keep it non-commital — let’s get the ring, but that doesn’t have to mean a proposal is imminent. It merely means the… opportunity for a proposal is now available.
A week or so later we went to a local jewelry designer and surveyed the rings they had. As we passed ring after ring, none seemed to inspire her that much. Daniela was weary of having a large stone on her finger. She said it was for work, that if she was still working on set or somewhere where she had to do physical tasks, it could get caught or damaged. She wanted something subtle and unassuming. And then eventually she saw something.
Three very simple gold rings. One in the middle had a modest stone that glittered unpretentiously, with two complementary rings with some humble detailing to go on either side of it. It was a non-traditional choice, but that almost made it better to us. The gemologist was incredibly friendly to the idea and encouraged her to make the choice that felt right to her.
Daniela said that this is what felt right to her. Her finger got sized and a couple of weeks later I received an email that read:
Just a quick note to say that I have a beautiful set of rings ready for you.
Let me know when you plan on coming down to pick them up :)
I eagerly hopped over to grab them and breathed a sigh of relief. One step down. Now I just had to find the right moment to pop the question and I’d be set.
I tried to play it cool over the summer. I’d enjoyed talking about grand romantic gestures throughout our relationship and for years had hinted that I had wild ideas of different ways I’d eventually propose to her. But now that we were in a real phase like this, it became less fun to speculate. I began to think of what an actual proposal between us looked like. I knew a public proposal was out of the question. We’d agreed that anything hokey like a series of clues or a scavenger hunt was out too.
We went to the wedding of one of her close friends a few months later. It was beautiful and people were happy and in love. Hey, it was a wedding. There was a very pro-marriage vibe happening, and I figured I could capitalize on this energy. I let Daniela soak in all the good wedding vibes as we danced and laughed and had an amazing time. But I also snuck away and talked with her friends, wondering out loud about proposing to her.
Her friends were very supportive of the idea. After all, we’d been together longer than most couples we knew and it just seemed like a natural next step. But summer was coming to a close soon. That meant her school year would be starting and Daniela had said that she didn’t want to be proposed to while she was going to school.
A couple of days before summer was up we were planning a day trip to Steep Rock. It would be a 2.5-hour drive to a rocky beach area with beautiful limestone cliffs and blue-green water with picturesque views. Since it was the tail end of summer and a bit north of Winnipeg, it would actually be a bit chilly. But that also meant fewer people would be there. It seemed like a fun, spontaneous trip that we (she, really) came up with out of nowhere.
It hit me — this was the perfect place to propose. It would be a very “us-centric” trip, we’d have a whole day of making memories and then at the end, I could pop the question. It had been a few months since we’d gotten the rings, and I wasn’t making any joke proposals to throw her off the scent. I’d just been playing it cool. And since she’d mainly come up with the idea to go there, she’d have no idea I’d be proposing since it couldn’t possibly be part of an elaborate plan. Right? When it was time to go, I slipped the box of rings into my pocket.
I wouldn’t prepare what to say beforehand. Not fully. I knew I was good at the speech part. I just needed some basic threads in my head of what I wanted to say, but I’d still keep it off the cuff enough so it didn’t sound over-rehearsed. I wanted it to sound natural and unplanned so it was just my honest, genuine feelings.
Daniela knew I could whip up a good emotional speech out of nowhere. When my mother retired as a teacher and I took her, my father, and Daniela out to a fancy dinner at a local tapas bar, I did some of my best work. As the night came to a close, I started to tell a story, saying how I’d been reading an article written by Gene Simmons’ son (who my mother knew of since she watched their reality show Gene Simmons’ Family Jewels at the time). It said how he had heard all his life how his dad was a god, a legend, an absolute hero to everyone around him. But as he grew up, he saw that wasn’t completely true — his dad wasn’t always perfect, and that no one could live up to expectations so high. Then I said that since I went to the school she taught at, I heard all these same things. How my mom was the greatest, the most revered, the most respected teacher around, and that everyone who took her classes walked away as a better person.
“But that’s where my similarities with Gene Simmons’ kid ended,” I remember saying. “Because once I got to take your class, I could see that everything everyone said was true. You were all those things. You were the greatest teacher I ever had.”
My mom smiled for a moment and looked like she was going to say something, until…
“Oh my god!” Daniela blurted out, almost completely involuntarily. “That’s so sweet!”
Her eyes were redder than my mom’s! We all laughed as it made the moment all the sweeter.
The big day came and I knew I could do it. We excitedly drove to Steep Rock and checked out all the sights. We hiked up the cliffs, took in all the natural beauty, and even did some kayaking together. We took so many pictures of the two of us. I was already planning in my head to look back at them in the future together and point out our faces before the proposal and go “you had no idea!” or “look how nervous I was!”
We were there for hours, making a final embrace of the summer before a treacherous autumn of homework and stress was going to hit.
It was getting later in the day. We’d have to end our trip soon. While kayaking in the water, she pointed off to an island.
“Ooh, we could go there!”
Hmm, that would be an interesting proposal area, I thought. But it was getting colder too and that amount of rowing would be too taxing for us, so we headed back instead. I could feel the clock ticking on when I could pop the question.
It was almost time to leave. We sat on a bench together, looking out at the waters around us. She put her head in my lap, almost laying down directly onto the rings. I guided her head away, wisely pretended I was adjusting my erection instead, and pushed the box of rings off to the side. Genius, Alan. Pure genius.
We stayed there, her talking in her carefree way, me only half-listening. I was running through the upcoming moment in my head. Is this it? Are you going to do it right now? No one was around and we’d just had such a fun day together. I looked around for any reason not to and couldn’t see any.
There was a break in our conversation and Daniela said, “I guess we should head home,” and began to get up.
“I just need to say something, OK?”
I started my spiel. I talked about how long I’ve loved her, how incredible of a human being she was, how she was beautiful inside and out, how proud I was of her for everything she had accomplished, and how excited I was for the future. And then finally I pulled out the box, opened it to show the rings, and said, “will you marry me?”
There was zero hesitation from her.
“Oh my god, Alan, no! What are you doing?” she said with an uncomfortable laugh.
My eyes jumped out of my head. I got up and put the box back in my pocket.
“Oh, yup, umm, OK.”
Not the right time? Not the right moment? What did I do wrong?
We walked back to the car.
It didn’t feel like the relationship was over or something, so I was just very confused.
“OK, let’s talk this out,” she declared, as we pulled out of Steep Rock for the 2.5-hour drive back home.
And talk we did.
Daniela did not want to get married after all. At least not yet. Maybe in the future. She basically vomited out all of her insecurities and feelings about marriage while I tried to win the world record for “Take a marriage proposal rejection better than any person on earth ever has in the history of humankind.”
I listened to her as I drove. Her parents weren’t married, she didn’t want to define herself by being married and she didn’t know if she even believed in marriage as a concept.
She seemed so blindsided by this, but I said I thought I’d been dropping some pretty big hints. She realized a bunch of her friends had been hinting as well, asking if they thought I would be proposing soon, but she didn’t put it together then and had dismissed the idea out of hand.
“Why did you come to buy rings with me then?” I asked.
“I don’t know!” she said.
She got caught up and didn’t want to make me feel bad, so she just went along with it. She said she still loved me and still wanted to be together, and maybe it would be best if we just completely forgot about this day. We wouldn’t bring it up to anyone, just make it our little secret, and we could just continue being a couple in love like normal.
I was hurt, I was in shock and I was incredibly disappointed.
But I was more in love with her than I was the-rest-of-those-feelings, so I said OK. Let’s just pretend it never happened. It would be our own funny little story for each other and that was it.
As we drove, I could see her trying the rings on, posing with them, and imagining her life with them. I said she should keep the rings, and maybe at some time in the future when the time is right, she can wear them. Then I swallowed my pride and I never brought it up again.
If you asked us if we strengthened our relationship there in that car after she had just rejected my proposal to her, we’d definitely both have said yes. We were holding hands and making jokes within minutes of returning. We actually felt closer than ever before and wondered if we’d possibly deepened our love in a way we didn’t expect.
But I mainly felt that was because I was incredibly forgiving about what was really a cataclysmically humiliating experience in which I decided I would take the high road. I loved her, and that was the superseding feeling I would focus on. Sure, I felt robbed of some joy and beauty in this world and was still pretty confused, but for the good of our relationship, I tossed all of those feelings out the window on our drive home.
As I tucked the box of rings into the back of our closet, I told myself it was a sacrifice well worth making. She was still the Daniela I loved, and I was the same Alan she loved.
But I did wonder if I would ever look at those rings again.
