Man-gagement Rings?

Picture this: A sunny Saturday afternoon. You’re relaxing in a deck lounger, admiring your collection of floating man-toys anchored out on the river. Your girlfriend comes out of the cottage with a couple of beers.  Sweet.  Without warning, she drops to one knee, whips out a jeweller’s box, looks you in the eye and says, “Will you marry me?”  Stunned, you open the box and there it is: The mangagement ring.

And that’s when you turn and run like Ewan McGregor at the beginning of Trainspotting.  Choose life.  Choose death.  Choose anything but being proposed to by a girl in public. 

Ladies, if the guy hasn’t proposed to you yet it means he’s still weighing the options of random ass vs. one ass and you trying to give him a man-gagement ring isn’t going to gently nudge him in the direction you’re hoping for. 

He knows how you won’t let anything die.  He knows how you’ll hang this over his head for the rest of his life.  He can see it now, at cocktail parties you saying, “He was taking too long and I was getting impatient so I had to propose to him!!  My silly little monkey! … Now go get me some more champagne darling.” 

He doesn’t want that scenario.  And he also doesn’t want to have this conversation with his last hoorah before the wedding.

Last Hoorah: Wait, you’re married?
Him: No, no no.  I’m getting married next week.
Last Hoorah: (Pointing to ring on his finger.) Well, what is that?
Him: Oh this?  It’s nothing.  It’s just an engagement ring my fiance gave me.  She actually proposed to me.
Last Hoorah: You fag. (She leaves.  Door slams.) 

Ladies, just be patient.  You have the rest of our marriage to run our lives, tell us what clothes to wear, take subtle jabs at us, cry when we take ours, always have the last word, and turn down sex because we rolled our eyes at something you said.  Let us decide when we propose to a life of that, ok?