There are (very, very) few times in a lesbian’s life when you might think for a (very, very) brief moment, “this would be easier if one of us was a dude.” I am not talking about changing a tire or opening a jar and we’re definitely miles away from the boudoir.
I am of course referring to the moment one of you battles the butterflies, arranges the romantic gesture and utters the words that threaten to cripple even the butchiest of lesbians: will you marry me?
One moment you’ll both remember and retell for the rest of your lives.
So you better make it good. Or she better.
Historically, and this obviously completely disregards our forward thinking liberal straight friends and Canadians, it is the dude who asks the princess. Of course he will already have cleared it with the king who, if they’re anything like my dad, will have responded with “if you want her, please take her,” which was his exact answer to my now brother-in-law. And he will bend his knee and pop the question and she’ll cry and they’ll marry and they’ll be happy for a few months before she falls in love with her best friend, Cathy, and the girls will run off together to run a vegan bicycle store. It’s the oldest story in the book. It’s the one we’ve grown up with and for most of us, the only one we know.
It’s not as simple for us princess squared couples. Unless we talk about it and come to an agreement that we’re now engaged or we will be on this particular date, or one of us specifically says “hey princess, one day I’m going to ask you to marry me,” it’s really just a waiting game of will she or won’t she or will I?
My wife and I were saving to move to Canada and had briefly discussed getting married while we were there. It went something like this:
Me: Hey so Canada lets homos get married, right?
Me: We should probably do that while we’re there.
Shan: yeah, ok.
That was the extent of our marriage conversation. We both knew we’d say the words and exchange bands at some point in the future but we weren’t engaged. But for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to be engaged. She was hot and funny and she thought I was hot and funny too. And I wanted to put a ring on it.
I knew she wouldn’t want a big rock though, she’s not that kinda gal. She also wouldn’t want a grand gesture. So I popped the question on the morning of our first anniversary in a hotel room overlooking the ocean. I made a book about two characters bearing our names who fall in love. My character asked hers those four terrifying words and offered her a ring with a diamond etched into a small silver plate.
There are few times in our relationship I remember my wife being genuinely surprised. This was one of them. She said yes (phew!) and we basked in the glow of being newly engaged.
If you’re wondering if you should or she should, please, one of you grow some boobs and just do it. It doesn’t matter who. Just have that moment. Create that story.