I’d ordered a hangover lunch of a cheese toastie with a glass of sauvignon blanc when my boyfriend Alfie, sitting across from me in an Amsterdam café, said:
“After we’re finished, we’re going to go to that spot by the canal where we were yesterday, and I’m going to ask you to marry me.”
Had the toastie already arrived at this point, I’d have choked. I’m not sure what I said at that moment, but it was the tensest lunch of my life. We ate in stunned silence.
Then I said, between chomps: “I’m stressed.”
“I probably should have waited until after lunch to say that,” he said.
Alfie, it turned out, had been trying to ask throughout the holiday. Every time we walked over a stupidly gorgeous bridge, he felt like he was missing his moment. By lunch, we had five hours left in Amsterdam. Hence the pre-proposal.
I was in a giddy daze as we walked back to the spot. Like I was on hold until he’d officially asked. We walked hand-in-hand to a canal opposite a beautiful café bar with Christmas lights that we’d passed by the previous day. He told me he loved me. I said “yes”. We basked in the glow.
Then it hit me: I was engaged! OMG!!! WTF!!!!!
The first thing we did was call our families and some close friends. But then, er, what next? Not an Instagram post. I hate those. Well, I hate how manufactured they can feel. “Guy in a tux on one knee in front of the Eiffel Tower as a girl dramatically gasps.” “Man proposes over an intimate dinner with just a few 400 close friends as witness.”
Ever since I entered my late-20s-to-early-30s, my algorithm has been full of girls with rings and suspiciously fresh manicures. Men lifting them into the sky while a professional photographer snaps from the bushes. Why are non-celebrities hiring whole ass film crews and a drone operator? I decided I’d rather tell people face-to-face.
I’ve found it more awkward bringing it up in person than expected. After Amsterdam, I felt like I was sitting on a Big News bomb, which could explode a conversation at any time. BOOM! Now let’s talk about ME. One of my close friends told me her stepmother was in a hospice. When I then pulled the pin on the wedding grenade, I felt like a knobhead.
Even when your friends aren’t dealing with heartbreaks / death / yoghurt exploding in their bags, you can also leave it too long into the chat. Another friend shrieked at me: “YOU LET ME TALK ABOUT ELF ON THE SHELF FOR FIVE MINUTES WITHOUT TELLING ME.”
To be fair, she did seem passionate about Elf on the Shelf.
But you must tell friends soon. If you don’t, you will offend them. It’s a level of social jeopardy not seen since Bebo’s friend rankings.
Alfie proposed in December, exactly when everyone we knew was about to disappear for the holidays. I was running out of time to see everyone that I wanted to. Worried about upsetting certain friends by waiting “too long” to tell them, I gave up on meet-ups, and started firing out texts.
I’ve never felt such weird pressure to tell everyone I know my personal news before. When I book a comedy gig or my dog dies, I don’t WhatsApp all of my contacts individually:
“Dog’s dead :(”
Alfie doesn’t understand why I care so much about this. He doesn’t think telling people you’re engaged is smug at all.
But it IS though. Because I am smug! Someone loves me and has bought me a diamond. I am bragging.
It is also probably something to do with being Irish and being afraid of “having notions”. Or just being anxious. It could also be something to do with being a woman. I am betrothed, and expected to act accordingly. Alfie says none of his friends care about weddings. Meanwhile I’m about to spend the next few months being pummelled bloody with questions about flower arrangements - and it’s assumed I will enjoy this. I mean, I probably will – but I don’t like the assumption.
Maybe I am jealous of the couple in front of the Eiffel Tower. They don’t seem to think about any of this.
I have been engaged for just over one month. We still haven’t done a collab post, but I’m coming round to the idea. I asked Alfie, whilst I decide, would he mind if I wrote a Substack about it? He said go ahead.
Anyway, good luck to all the other anxious brides-to-be out there.
xoxo Caroline
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.