Ultimatum
A friend got engaged the other day and rang me in a flurry of excitement with the happy news. ‘How did he propose?’ I ask, keen for every romantic detail. ‘He didn’t', she responded. ‘I gave him an ultimatum.’
Don’t think for a minute those brides you know were proposed to in a blaze of spontaneous ardor when they least expected it leaving them gobsmacked and too stunned to so much as utter a ready response leaving the wannabe groom in a cold sweat during the elongated pause as she considers her options. Oh, no. More likely she’s given him a gentle shove.
There was plenty of time for all that in your twenties, protracted love affairs that may or may not end in permanence. But post thirty, there’s a more pressing deadline. A woman has a right to know if she’s on the road to nowhere.
Most brides won’t admit it but a great majority of them have reached this place via crafty cajoling, several more with a blatant ultimatum. It’s not that men don’t want to get married, it’s just that they don’t know they do. They have everything they need and desire – she’s sleeping with him, she’s moved in, she irons his shirts – so why complicate things by making it permanent? Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? If it aint broke, don’t fix it. And so it takes a woman to show him what’s good for him.
It’s not the way of our dreams. We grew up expecting a man to suddenly and most unexpectedly drop to one knee and plead for our hand, or obscure a princess cut diamond in the chocolate mousse. To move out until he wakes up to himself, to reject his calls, block his emails and ignore his pounding on the door until he can come up with the goods is not the lofty romantic ideals we aspired to. But at 36, it may be what it takes.
My newly engaged friend had been living with her boyfriend for three years anticipating an imminent proposal. When another birthday passed with nothing of the sort, she packed her bags and cleared out leaving a five page letter on his pillow demanding he marry her or she’d never return. She was careful to point out how he’d never find anyone like her and he’d be desperately lonely on his own. Two long weeks passed and she feared the worst until he emailed with, ‘…alright, if it means that much to you.’
Another friend made it even easier, presenting her man with a solitaire diamond; all he had to do was agree. She’d booked St. Marks and had the invitations printed by week’s end.
‘No rock, no cock’ is how one woman, 39, put it to her boyfriend of four years. After two failed ultimatums when she weakened and returned to the fold with nothing even close to a proposal, this time she’s withholding sex and all such pleasantries until he lays his cards on the table. ‘It’s the least he can do,’ she reasons. ‘He’s robbed me of my best years.’
‘He’s got till Christmas’, another girl announces. ‘If he hasn’t popped the question by then, I’m gone.’ I don’t get why she wants to marry him anyway because he drives her mad. ‘Is he really right for you?’ I ask, trying to shift the focus on to what really matters. ‘Probably not, but I’m 38!’
There’s also the subtle ultimatum, like leaving Vogue Wedding lying around and pointing out that Tim and Lara married after only six months and we’ve been together 18.
Fair enough too. If he’s not going to make an honest woman of you, better off to cut your losses and find someone who will. Having been to several weddings borne of ultimatums, it doesn’t seem to matter in the end.