Marriage Proposals

First rule: you must be a man. Second: the object of your affection must be a woman. Third: you must at some point get down on one knee. Those with arthritis or gender conflicts should resolve those issues now.

Once you've worked those kinks out, fourth, and most key, you must orchestrate a setup involving deception, intrigue and bombast, combining the mystery of a David Copperfield show and the theatrics of a Busby Berkeley musical. Your would-be fiancee must never suspect a thing — until that magic moment when you kneel on the ground, surrounded by dancing waiters and singing mermaids.

Wrong: "Andrew, let's get married." Right: "Lisa, I've brought you here for a very important reason. I need you to help me win a Jell-O-eating competition." Winks to the tribe of conspirators waiting in the bushes.

Once upon a time, proposing at halftime at a sporting event was considered the height of drama. Now the bar is set higher. Askmen.com advises that "these days, women want to be mesmerized with emotion, romanticism and originality. And not necessarily in that order either."

Worry not: If you're feeling uncreative, the media offer plenty of examples of emotion, romanticism and originality for you to copy. The Learning Channel's Perfect Proposal features groom hopefuls concocting complex plots, helped by undercover TLC staff with walkie-talkies. The woman has no idea that this elite team of conspirators is working behind the scenes to run her through a series of hoops until...the big revelation! Understandably, this is just too much for many of them to take. Omigod, Matt, you mean we're not here at the wild-animal preserve just to learn how to wrestle crocodiles?

These ambushes tend to resemble those of the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes Prize Patrol. So being startled is understandable. But some people appear truly shocked. If it's that much of a surprise that this person wants to marry you, should you be marrying him? Dare we even ask this?

No. Because that might dampen the spirits of the 15 ice-skating cupids gliding around Rockefeller Center, each holding up one letter of "WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

The answer to that question, by the way, is always yes. Actually, to be more precise, the answer is, "Oh my gaaahhhhhdd," accompanied by tears, and with hands covering the nose. (Why do they always go for the nose? They don't cover the whole face, or the eyes, which are actually doing the crying — just the nose. And the fingers are always posed in this perfect little pyramid, as if choreographed by a hand model to show off a manicure.)

Anyway, the skating-cupids shenanigan was the winner in last year's proposal competition sponsored by Korbel and Blue Nile diamonds. "Hundreds of entrants submitted their unique proposal ideas," though the examples offered seem to stick to the shock-and-awe formula discussed above. One involved "multiple gondoliers" performing "an unforgettable serenade"; another entrant "dreamed of using a dolphin to propose to his girlfriend."

Does anyone ever say "No" in the face of such pageantry? Maybe, but those stories are carefully kept hidden from the public, because it might be too much for us to handle — it could shake our faith in true love, the desirability of marriage, and the power of public coercion via Jumbotron.

Because for all the ultra-personal touches worked into these spectacles, some new fiancées seem to be thrilled less about the individual guy — or even marriage — and more about achieving the exulted status of having been asked. Engaged women post stories boasting of their grooms' efforts all over the Web. If the moment isn't everything you've hoped and dreamed of, they advise, "then tell him he needs to do it again in a better situation." (Maybe the woman could cut to the chase and ask the man? Whoops, that would violate the first rule of proposals, noted earlier. Sorry.)

It's gotten to the point that people think that if there hasn't been a Huge Surprising Proposal atop Mt. Kilimanjaro, they can't actually be engaged. One Knot.com poster wonders whether she should go ahead and do the asking, since she can't wait one second longer, and besides, "We've already chosen a date, toured a dozen reception sites, and I already bought my dress!"

Is this phenomenon due to the influence of reality television, in which things have to get crazier and crazier to even be interesting? Since every aspect of life has now been documented in its own TV show, it's easy to believe our own lives must be a series of theatrical, public moments. (Is the next logical step "Ambush Proposal," in which people you've never even met ask you to marry them? Perhaps we can look forward to "Extreme Makeover: Proposal Edition" where you get a new fiancée, a new living room, and new teeth.)

Maybe the proposer hopes that if he goes to enough trouble, the woman involved will feel marrying him is the least she can do in return. It's understandable if men feel this way; the tit-for-tat approach is explicitly promoted in ads like those from A Diamond Is Forever, whose message is: Need to coerce a woman? Do it with jewelry. In one ad, a man wishes his wife a happy anniversary. "Yeah, happy anniversary," she says blandly. Then he gives her a diamond ring — and everything changes. After an obligatory "Oh my God" gasp, she embraces her husband, effusing, "I love this man. I love him, I love him, I love him." Well, that was easy!

In the end, it may just be a natural outgrowth of the supersizing of weddings themselves. The media aggressively push the idea that a wedding isn't just about two people; it's about their audience of envious onlookers. So if a wedding is a chance to show off, why not start showing off at the very beginning? One woman discussing her fiancée's proposal recalls, "the best part of all was the crowd of like 50-plus people standing around the baggage claim [erupting] into applause and congratulatory screams!"

Isn't it always the best part? After all, after the right kind of proposal, actually getting to marry the guy is just gravy. Or, rather, fondant icing on the seven-tier cake.

— Liz Khalil (thegreatlizby@yahoo.com)