elise

(Continued from Planning To Be Surprised)

Elise and I had flirted with the idea of ring shopping for ages but – much like my attitude towards the engagement itself – the idea of premeditating our shopping trip seemed queer and uncomfortable.

Plus, pre-meditation would lead to discussion with friends and co-workers, and another one of my (slightly less nonsensical) maxims is a firm belief that a relationship is entirely between the couple. Which, aside from meaning that I consider it arch betrayal for either of us to talk about our sex life to a third party, also seemed to preclude even talking about an engagement ring to someone in a store.

After a month of aimless internet shopping I decided to create a loophole for shop attendants, so as to render our hypothetical eventual engagement something other than an impossibility.

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I suppose this is a post where I should be imparting seasoned fiancé advice on other men about to embark on the same journey.

Let me get back to you on that one.

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In preliminary, non-binding discussions about our inaugural shopping trip we seriously considered making up stories and accents and disguises to make the outing less threatening. Elise was going to be British? Or, was I going to be from Florida? Something about us meeting at a convention and falling in love at first sight?

When it came down to it we just had a couple of mimosas for breakfast and charged right in – tipsy on a Saturday and four blocks from Jewelers’ Row with no other plans.

No plans at all, actually – we didn’t have a specific shop in mind, and we stood in awe of various dormant neon jewels hanging over a block packed with at least a dozen jewelry stores.

I turned to Elise.

“Pick a sign, honey.”

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When it comes to engagement ring shopping, there are three kinds of jewelry stores and, by extension, three sorts of store attendants.

Suppressors do not want you to be armed with information or opinions. Or taste. In fact, if you are armed with any of those things they don’t really want to hear about it. They aren’t interested in educating you – their only interest is to be your one stop shopping center for multi-thousand dollar hunks of rock. They just want you to like what you see and buy it.

Passives understand that you might be armed with information or opinions – that’s okay – buy they don’t plan to do anything to encourage the further development of either. Often a Passive sees ring shopping as an arcane or mystical experience that cannot be approached scientifically. They want you to browse in their store and find the ring for you. If you don’t see it, it’s not for sale – don’t even think about asking for anything customized.

Empowerers hope that you come armed with information and opinions, and if you don’t have one or the other they’ll help you establish them. They want you to understand your purchase, and they’re confident that if you understand it well enough you will shop with them. However, some Empowerers get drunk on their empowerment, which can make them a bit pushy – especially if they are stodgy old men.

The tricky part is telling these people apart, which you might not be able to suss out on your first trip. Sometimes you find an empowering store but draw a passive staff member. Or, you find an empowering employee schlepping the products of a suppressing store.

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As it turned out, our first store was a terrific choice, we knew a lot more about diamonds than we suspected, and our opinions were a lot more specific than we knew.

I had a certain carat weight in mind for a solitaire ring, but when Elise tried one on it dominated her delicate hand in an unsightly way. Elise knew she wanted a princess cut diamond, but it turned out that she preferred settings other than the basic cathedral she had previously dreamed of.

It was giggly, nervous business. For a while it felt like we were impersonating a happy, marriage-bound couple, until after a few stores we realized that we were a happy, marriage-bound couple.

Our strategy emerged quickly. We’d enter a store, reap the basic hellos and sales pitch, and then get down to business. By store number four we started to come to an understanding about the different types of attendants, and were easily extricating ourselves from undesirable shopping situations.

Teamwork; the sign of a potentially, hypothetically, eventually happily married couple.

After winding our way through a string of unremarkable stores we wound up in Robbin’s 8th and Walnut, which to me is a timeless Philadelphia landmark as much as it is a jewelry store. And, though I was skeptical that it wouldn’t live up to its reputation, it easily did – friendly staff, a huge selection, and warm cookies refreshed at regular intervals.

Any remaining nervousness about shopping melted away – we paced the case with our attendant wearing a half-dozen potential rings on her fingers, handing them to Elise one at a time for comparison. Two hours prior the sight would have seemed surreal, but in the present it seemed completely normal.

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So, about that advice.

There’s no right time to shop for rings. You don’t have to wait until it’s dawned on you that you’re dating your wife. However, even if you do it in the most casual of ways, it will always hang in your relationship.

That’s not to say you should only shop for rings when you absolutely mean to buy one soon. Just be aware that – much like kisses and “I love yous” – you can’t take ring shopping back. It can mean as little or as much as either of those things can, but it can’t ever be meaningless.

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We emerged from the trip breathless and armed with ideas. More importantly, we emerged feeling a distinct lack of pressure.

That would come much later.

(Continued from Permission)

When does a plan of engagement first transform into an Engagement Plan? When you first move in together? On your first anniversary? During the first kiss? On the first date? At first sight?

According to our firmly-established personal mythology, Elise’s side of the plan began – with tongue planted firmly in cheek – somewhere between the latter two occasions in our long and storied relationship.

It was at a theatre party over six years ago. I was in one of the darker territories of my life, but from the outside it looked as though I was on a flamboyantly giddy joyride, which lead to Elise’s infamous remark, “If he’s not gay I’ll marry him.”

My own engagement agenda didn’t get initiated until much later. At the time I was more interested in dating her roommate than the possible ramifications of her comment.

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My life operates on a well-established network of arbitrary, sometimes nonsensical rules, like that I have a physical aversion to navy blue. It’s sort of an elaborate solitaire game of Simon Says. I like to think of it as “OCD Twister.”

Unfortunately for Elise, a lot of the rules manifested themselves as ridiculous hurdles for our burgeoning relationship. I would not say “I love you” until it came out spontaneous and unbidden, and refused to degrade the phrase by using it over the phone.

We could not make overt public displays of affection at parties. I was adamant that we not plan our lives more than two times the length of our relationship into the future. And, I would not even consider getting engaged until we lived together for at least a year.

Despite that last maxim, I lacked a rule for exactly when to get engaged. And, also generally lacking for happy, stable relationships to draw examples from, I hadn’t the vaguest idea of how I would know the time was right.

As a result, when the “living together” requirement first approached being fulfilled I solidified a new, previously informally considered rule. A moronic, obstinate, paradoxically difficult rule that I obeyed to the letter and don’t regret for a single second.

Our engagement would have to be a surprise.

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As our relationship wore into it’s third – and then fourth – year, Elise, her family, and our friends certainly couldn’t be blamed for wondering when we would ever get engaged. As a result of my “surprise rule” I seemed doomed not to know myself.

Maybe “surprise” isn’t the right word, especially since early in our relationship Elise specifically barred me from ever proposing during a performance or via a jumbotron, which – given my flair for all things dramatic and flamboyant – would have been odds-on to occur if she hadn’t said anything.

I suppose the rule meant that engagement had to be a revelation. An epiphany. A moment where I realized I was meant to spend the rest of my life with Elise.

Being me, I constantly used the vague nature of my rule to disqualify any conscious thought of engagement as a pre-cursor to engagement. If Elise brought up rings, even in a non-threatening conversational way, any forward motion towards engagement would be halted. And, paradoxically, planning to start a bank account to save for a ring would disqualify me from planning to save for a ring, which seemed to mean I’d be doomed to buy it entirely on credit.

I had seemingly painted myself into an OCD corner – I was trying to plan to surprise myself with an unplanned surprise.

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Last fall Elise and I both started new jobs, and Elise’s afforded her (literally and figuratively) her first chance to take an extended vacation. Having used my vacation days and accompanying budget earlier in the year to attend Bonnaroo, she opted for a solo excursion to California.

It was the first time I would ever be Eliseless for more than a long weekend, and I relished the thought. Finally, a house to myself. I would play loud music, leave the heat off, invite friends over to watch Aqua Team Hunger Force, blog all night, sleep on the couch, get drunk alone, and order lots of takeout. Sometimes all in one day.

After a week basking in the hazy glow of bachelorhood I was surprisingly relieved to have Elise back from California. I hadn’t expected to be quite so enamored with her return, and in my excitement I dragged her out for a day of wandering through the Italian Market, punctuated by our first visit to our now-regular local haunt, Cantina Los Caballitos.

There was a tangible excitement to our idle walk through South Philly. At the moment I would have told you that I was simply giddy to have her back home, but with even a few days of retrospect I realized that it was my reaction to seeing my future wife for the first time.

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I finally had my epiphany. Now I just needed a ring.