Heaneyland!

A modest proposal? Not anymore

Rose and I had our traditional beat-the-crowd Valloween dinner last night, and, midmeal, applause broke out in the corner of the restaurant -- someone at another table had just proposed to his girlfriend. Rose then overheard another couple remark, "Aw...this is where [so-and-so] proposed!" Rose is still one up on those guys, though -- a couple actually got married in her store. (It was really more of a Church of Craft wedding, but the ceremony was performed in front of Rose's shelves of yarn.)

So, a perfectly nice marriage proposal -- but was it impressive enough? It didn't involve a parachute or a parade of mariachis, after all. That's where the ever-so-necessary new industry of proposal consultants comes in. I mean, how actually romantic is it to have some wildly extravagant proposal only to have to answer the question, "Oh, honey, that was incredible -- where did you ever come up with the idea to do that?"

"Um...I paid someone."

"That's what I love about you -- you're so uncreative and have so much money!"

I also liked this assertion:

As the setting for countless romantic movies, like "When Harry Met Sally" or "Breakfast at Tiffany's," New York has become a great big proposal magnet for couples around the metropolitan area and from beyond.

Not only that, but as the setting for countless children's books, like "Eloise", New York is also a magnet for people who want to raise their children in hotels.

In addition to its natural charms, the article also features, as Rose points out, one of the classic tropes of New York Times articles -- inadvisable comments from interviewees:

Many New Yorkers still prefer the traditional approach. Some time this evening in a restaurant on the Upper East Side, Lia Macko will receive a yellow diamond ring and some sparklers on top of her dessert. (Her fiancé, Dana Matthow, is counting on you, dear reader, to keep the secret.)

And, apparently, is also counting on his fiancee-to-be not to read the most widely read paper in town. Or, presumably, to ever, ever find out about the article, or he probably wouldn't have made this unfortunate comment:

Mr. Matthow, publisher of City Guide Magazine, contemplated crazy ideas involving dancing clowns and trained seals, but in the end, opted for the couple's usual restaurant, a pianist playing their favorite song and a photographer hiding in the wings.

"She's been bugging me for so long to get married," he said, "at this point, she'll be happy just to see me down on my knees."

Ah, the language of love.

Posted by Francis at 10:30 AM