With marriage proposals comes an endless train wreck of clichés, tired romantic gestures, and all-around stupid attempts to be cute, unique, or impressive. There are few momentous occasions that only happen once in our lives, and understandably, those moments are often terrifying and exciting and a really big deal. We love to dress these moments up in attempt to make them picture-perfect. Deep down we all think that there exists some perfect combination of romantic elements that, when combined in the right sequence, would make anyone say yes.

I found it the day I proposed.

The weather was immaculate; the air warm and inviting, and the ocean breeze just strong enough to be refreshing but not chilly. She has no idea I am about ask her the most important question of my life. We are surrounded by our dearest friends, and everyone is in extraordinary good-cheer, and doing a marvelous job of keeping up the charade of simply being on a meaningless yet scenic group picnic. There is a lull in the conversation.

Her attention shifts away from me for just a moment. The sun catches her hair. This is it. My heart races. I get down on one knee and remove the small velvet box I have been hiding in my sock all day. Everyone else simultaneously pulls out their phones and point them at her. At us. She turns back around. I pop open the box and catch the look in her eyes as she realizes what is happening. I try to push the words I have been practicing in my mind for months through the biggest grin that has ever graced my smug face.
 
Suddenly, before I can get a single word out, a seagull swoops down out of nowhere and snatches the ring from my hand. In complete shock and utter disbelief, I swing wildly at the bird-devil and luckily catch it by the foot. In a flurry of feathers and screams I wrestle the flapping mess back to earth. Driven by sheer adrenaline I try to pry the ring from the beast’s beak, slicing my fingers in the process. It screeches. She screeches. I screech the loudest. People take pictures. The ungodly strong bastard rips a chunk of flesh from my hand as I pry the ring out of its mouth. Everyone looks on in sheer terror. Blinded by fury, I crush the life out of the damned bird with my bare hands. I try to present my diamond trophy to my wife-to-be in bloodied hands through a cloud of feathers. She finds it oddly romantic. Church bells chime in the distance.  

This is one of countless anxiety dreams I had leading up to my actual proposal. In my mind I have dropped the ring off the cliff, I have tripped and fallen off the cliff, and I have tripped, comically stumbled and pushed her off the cliff. I have been struck by lightning. I have fought hurricane-strength weather, swarms of giant bees, and ninjas. But to this day, I see it as a good sign that of all my fears and nightmares, her saying no never crossed my mind. Of that, I was certain.

In the end, the secret to the art of a successful marriage proposal is simply that – knowing. 

I am a cinephile. I especially love the art of character creation. A perfectly constructed character thrives in our cultural narrative with as much life as a real person. Sometimes more. Everyone can easily rattle off their favorite characters from film and television. Unfortunately, shaping a character is a difficult process, and one which has led to a watering down of the human condition as it is represented on TV.

Of paramount importance in creating a character, is making him relatable. As a man, I look to male characters in search of shared interests, motivations, emotions, and struggles. To that end, I often give up in frustration. There are only nine men on the television any more, and none of them are men I aspire to emulate.

The Villain: Of all male characters portrayed in film, this one needs the least introduction. He is the broken shell of a man, the bad guy we all love to hate. The Villain is most often the embodiment of a singular evil motivation we, as viewers, can all collectively agree is, well, bad. Greed, envy, power, and chaos are the most common incentives for The Villain. He is simply an antagonist – a placeholder for evil, who shares no semblance to any men we know in real life, and who will most certainly die in the end.

The Asshole: This is the bad guy we all know. He is loud and mean and emotionally compromised. He’s the one who kicks the stray dogs in your neighborhood and doesn’t understand that merging on the freeway should operate like a zipper – one car after another. He curses too much, wears asshole clothes, and drives an asshole car. In film and TV he is the boss, the school bully, the angry ex-boyfriend, or the cheating husband. He takes many forms, but his underlying purpose is the same; he is the guy we all want to punch in the face in real life, but never do. Sometimes he wins, but only the small victories.

The Weasel: The Weasel is a special breed of man who we almost hate as much as The Asshole. The Weasel is the underling of The Villain or The Asshole. He is a bottom feeder, who hasn’t the power, character, or strength to foster his own success and happiness. Satisfied to serve someone mightier than himself, he slinks through life. He has a slimy personality and depends on manipulation. He is willing to say and do anything to win over the approval of whoever has power over him in the moment.

The Badass: The bad-boy trope is legendary. The good at heart, but tough-skinned guy who can’t get his life together wins women’s hearts but inevitably fails under the weight of his own character flaws and lack of emotional depth. He was hurt so the world must hurt. Women want to fix him. Men want his stoicism, reputation, and motorcycle, but that is about it.  

The Oaf: The Oaf is a lovable idiot. He is quickly becoming one of the most common male television personalities. He is the father on so many sitcoms, the doofus in the background of infomercials who can't operate a roll of paper towels. He serves little more purpose than comic relief and to give viewers a masculine object to simultaneously like and feel sorry for. The Oaf has a fairly good life but his looks, laziness, clumsiness, or lack of intelligence holds him back from reaching his aspirations.  

The Underdog: The man we love to see win, but rarely seems to do so under his own power. The Underdog has little confidence and less self-advocacy. His ascent to greatness requires a catalyst beyond his control, and constant external motivation. While he usually prevails, often with the assistance of The Best Friend, he simply can’t do so on his own.

The Pretty Boy: Simply put, The Pretty Boy is eye-candy. His only purpose is to look good in comparison to the other men on screen. Rarely is he attributed anything other than a rocking body. He plays the small but critical role of reminding all men that no matter what you do, there is a better looking guy out there who can steal your girl with a smile and eighteen-pack abs.

The Best Friend: This is the only male character with the integrity and moral aptitude we feel good about relating to. But the most defining characteristic of the best friend is that he is a supporting character. He is the one who makes the ultimate sacrifice. He consistently puts others before himself. While his exceptional loyalty and kindness often benefit everyone around him, he can’t seem to make center stage. He is a walking reminder that nice guys finish last.    

The Action Hero: Kicking ass and taking names in the service of justice, love, and America. The Action Hero has the uncanny ability to take multiple hits and keep on swinging. He doesn’t cry and only bleeds when he wants to. We root for him because he is extraordinarily good at everything he does, not because he is necessarily a good person. His inter and intra-personal skills are in absolute shambles, but it is always okay, because he doesn’t need help.  




*Originally published here at The Good Men Project