The Congratulations Tango
Dec. 9th, 2008 05:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfieldArthur: I am your king!
Woman: Well I didn't vote for you!
Arthur: You don't vote for kings.
Woman: Well how'd you become king then?
Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. THAT is why I am your king!
Dennis: Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government! Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcicial aquatic ceremony!
- Scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail
The strangest thing about being engaged is not seeing my girlfriend with a ring on her finger, or referring to her as "my fiancee," or the sudden and unexpected importance of things like buttercream cake frosting.
It's all the attention. Being engaged is apparently a really big deal. I get the sense that getting engaged is a bigger deal, even, than getting married.
For example, when I announced my engagement at my office staff meeting on Monday morning*, not only were there audible oohs and ahhs, several of the women let out high-pitched shrieks, as if they had just been pronounced the next contestant on The Price is Right. After my initial surprise at all the noise, I felt a little insulted -- is it really so stunning that I was able to get someone to marry me?
*I did not really want to announce my engagement to my coworkers, seeing as it is none of their business, but I was ultimately convinced that withholding the information would be needlessly rude. Also, I figured, by announcing it to everyone at once, I would get it all over with rather than having to answer the same stupid questions one at a time as people caught wind of the news.
I find it hard to believe that when I stroll into the office as a married man, whenever that may be, I'll get much more than a tepid "congratulations," even if the actual marriage is a monumentally more significant development.
The act of "announcing" any personal milestone is fraught with protocol obstacles, booby-traps and no-win situations -- for both the announcer and his/her audience. This familiar dance begins with a presumption by the first party that the second party cares about their news. For example:
"Hi, Bob! Have I mentioned that I just had right testicle polished?"
The second party is then obliged to respond with compliments and congratulations.
"Gosh, Bill, that's great. I was going to mention that you looked more aerodynamic."
The first party then thanks the second party for their kind words.
"Thanks for noticing! Martha and I are just thrilled with the results so far. I'm going to have the left one done soon."
... at which point the second party can only ask follow-up questions.
"So, Bill, how did they do it? How long have you been planning it? Have you set a date?
It's not that I think this choreography is insincere. I believe that my friends and family are as happy for me as I would be for them. I just find the whole arrangement to be predictably rote and more than a little superficial.
So, from the beginning, I felt a little phony broadcasting the news of my engagement. I made a few sheepish phone calls, wrote some matter-of-fact e-mails and sort of backed into it in my journal entry. Again, I did so because I was assured that withholding the news would be unforgivably weird and impolite. Each time I felt a little like I was hanging a neon sign that said "CONGRATULATE ME" and half-hoping that nobody saw it.
But it's not really the volume of attention that I find so disconcerting. What's weird is my reaction to it, and J.'s reaction to it.
I, the perpetual attention whore, whose Web site (and, one could reasonably argue, my entire existence) is nothing less than a brazen self-advertisement, find myself retreating from the attention and clamor. All I want to do is reflect on this great emotional journey I'm going to take, but instead I'm stuck deflecting questions about bands-vs.-DJs.
Meanwhile, the normally shy and retiring J. is soaking up the adulation like a ShamWow!, flashing her new jewelry under the nose of anyone who isn't moving. This woman of mine, more girl than girly, suddenly has an interest in wedding dresses and tulle. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen, but it came out of nowhere.
Of course, this role-reversal could have something to do with the procedural facts of our engagement. Because I had decided to propose a good two months before I actually did so, I had a lot more time to get used to the idea. And not only that, I had to spend all that time suppressing my excitement and keeping it to myself.
Conversely, J. is in the full blush of euphoria, still posessed by the glow of the sudden and initial revelation. She looks to me for camaraderie in this, our glorious moment, and at times I struggle to match her enthusiasm. It's an ironic shame, really, that our life together should begin with a campaign of lying, secrecy, subterfuge, bribery and exhaustion.
But I don't want to think about any of that. I just want to focus on this amazing time in my life and the amazing person with whom I'm going to experience it. I will not talk about the proposition itself -- what I said, how I felt, when I knew -- even if I could. It's one of those things I'm keeping just for us.
Much like Dennis' treatise on representative government in the quotation above, true love is embodied by the covenant taken between two people, not the mechanical transaction that occurs beforehand.
So, thank you, one and all, for your warm sentiments and gestures. We really do appreciate everything. We'll let you know if there are any more details you need. And when we do, we'll expect a prompt "congratulations." That's just how the dance goes.
Woman: Well I didn't vote for you!
Arthur: You don't vote for kings.
Woman: Well how'd you become king then?
Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. THAT is why I am your king!
Dennis: Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government! Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcicial aquatic ceremony!
- Scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail
The strangest thing about being engaged is not seeing my girlfriend with a ring on her finger, or referring to her as "my fiancee," or the sudden and unexpected importance of things like buttercream cake frosting.
It's all the attention. Being engaged is apparently a really big deal. I get the sense that getting engaged is a bigger deal, even, than getting married.
For example, when I announced my engagement at my office staff meeting on Monday morning*, not only were there audible oohs and ahhs, several of the women let out high-pitched shrieks, as if they had just been pronounced the next contestant on The Price is Right. After my initial surprise at all the noise, I felt a little insulted -- is it really so stunning that I was able to get someone to marry me?
*I did not really want to announce my engagement to my coworkers, seeing as it is none of their business, but I was ultimately convinced that withholding the information would be needlessly rude. Also, I figured, by announcing it to everyone at once, I would get it all over with rather than having to answer the same stupid questions one at a time as people caught wind of the news.
I find it hard to believe that when I stroll into the office as a married man, whenever that may be, I'll get much more than a tepid "congratulations," even if the actual marriage is a monumentally more significant development.
The act of "announcing" any personal milestone is fraught with protocol obstacles, booby-traps and no-win situations -- for both the announcer and his/her audience. This familiar dance begins with a presumption by the first party that the second party cares about their news. For example:
"Hi, Bob! Have I mentioned that I just had right testicle polished?"
The second party is then obliged to respond with compliments and congratulations.
"Gosh, Bill, that's great. I was going to mention that you looked more aerodynamic."
The first party then thanks the second party for their kind words.
"Thanks for noticing! Martha and I are just thrilled with the results so far. I'm going to have the left one done soon."
... at which point the second party can only ask follow-up questions.
"So, Bill, how did they do it? How long have you been planning it? Have you set a date?
It's not that I think this choreography is insincere. I believe that my friends and family are as happy for me as I would be for them. I just find the whole arrangement to be predictably rote and more than a little superficial.
So, from the beginning, I felt a little phony broadcasting the news of my engagement. I made a few sheepish phone calls, wrote some matter-of-fact e-mails and sort of backed into it in my journal entry. Again, I did so because I was assured that withholding the news would be unforgivably weird and impolite. Each time I felt a little like I was hanging a neon sign that said "CONGRATULATE ME" and half-hoping that nobody saw it.
But it's not really the volume of attention that I find so disconcerting. What's weird is my reaction to it, and J.'s reaction to it.
I, the perpetual attention whore, whose Web site (and, one could reasonably argue, my entire existence) is nothing less than a brazen self-advertisement, find myself retreating from the attention and clamor. All I want to do is reflect on this great emotional journey I'm going to take, but instead I'm stuck deflecting questions about bands-vs.-DJs.
Meanwhile, the normally shy and retiring J. is soaking up the adulation like a ShamWow!, flashing her new jewelry under the nose of anyone who isn't moving. This woman of mine, more girl than girly, suddenly has an interest in wedding dresses and tulle. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen, but it came out of nowhere.
Of course, this role-reversal could have something to do with the procedural facts of our engagement. Because I had decided to propose a good two months before I actually did so, I had a lot more time to get used to the idea. And not only that, I had to spend all that time suppressing my excitement and keeping it to myself.
Conversely, J. is in the full blush of euphoria, still posessed by the glow of the sudden and initial revelation. She looks to me for camaraderie in this, our glorious moment, and at times I struggle to match her enthusiasm. It's an ironic shame, really, that our life together should begin with a campaign of lying, secrecy, subterfuge, bribery and exhaustion.
But I don't want to think about any of that. I just want to focus on this amazing time in my life and the amazing person with whom I'm going to experience it. I will not talk about the proposition itself -- what I said, how I felt, when I knew -- even if I could. It's one of those things I'm keeping just for us.
Much like Dennis' treatise on representative government in the quotation above, true love is embodied by the covenant taken between two people, not the mechanical transaction that occurs beforehand.
So, thank you, one and all, for your warm sentiments and gestures. We really do appreciate everything. We'll let you know if there are any more details you need. And when we do, we'll expect a prompt "congratulations." That's just how the dance goes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
"soaking up the adulation like a ShamWow!"
Date: 2008-12-10 02:00 pm (UTC)Re: "soaking up the adulation like a ShamWow!"
Date: 2008-12-10 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 02:23 am (UTC)-GDM
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 03:29 am (UTC)polish or wax?
Date: 2008-12-12 03:55 am (UTC)I GET IT!!!
the real congratulations goes to your right testicle!
i'm sorry, i can be so slow to pick up on these things.
but really, schedule your next appointment soon "Bill", the left is getting jealous.
Re: polish or wax?
Date: 2008-12-12 04:28 am (UTC)Tease me if you want, but don't knock it 'till you've tried it.
(But once you've tried it, doctors recommend that you don't "knock it" for a least four to six weeks.)