Proving that either love is blind or my girlfriend is, we got engaged a few weeks ago.

And let me tell you I'm exhausted!

You see, for the first week or two after getting engaged, as soon as someone learns you are, in fact, newly engaged — whether that someone is a family member, friend, or overworked grocery store clerk — for that first week everyone you come into contact with demands that you recite exactly how, when, where, with what, where when, how what, why for, and at what precise moment you got engaged.

Here's a word of advice to anyone thinking about getting engaged. Do it in a terribly romantic fashion that can be told quickly, because otherwise there's danger that repetition will kill the magic of that moment. Imagine being stuck explaining, ten times a day, who got what flavor before your proposal in the Baskin-Robbins parking lot.

So you'll understand if I skip the part about how exactly I proposed, because I can't possibly say another word about that sprinkled trail of rose petals, those hundred white candles, or how quickly rose petals can go up in romantic flames, or the fire department's timely arrival. What matters is that my girlfriend's first words, between gulps of air from the fire chief's oxygen mask, were, "Of course I'll marry you!" Then she turned to me and said, "But he's already married, so you'll have to do."

Getting engaged turned out to be the easy part. I'd always assumed that buying the ring and getting down on one knee would be like climbing a tall brick wall — something I could probably do with the proper amount of preparation and effort, and once accomplished I would congratulate myself and go get a beer. But I've discovered that after scaling a tall brick wall, people are bound to ask, "So have you set a date to climb the Empire State Building?"

Yep, just that one pesky detail I'd forgotten about: the wedding.

Fortunately for me, The Future Mrs. Murphy is a whiz at planning. She even planned how to get me involved in wedding preparation:

"Hey Andy, I'll need you to tell me which hotel bar mixes the best drinks for the reception."

I'm glad I'm involved in the planning. The Future Mrs. Murphy has given me very important duties, like boiling water, gathering towels, and buying thick socks that will keep my feet warm during the coming months. But I've taken a very important task onto myself — that is, ensuring the wedding has just the right amount of whimsy.

Adding whimsy to the wedding is harder than it may seem, because The Future Mrs. Murphy has veto power. And it seems that ALL of my good ideas get vetoed.

"Ooh! Let's have a Bungee-jump wedding!"

Veto!

"Says here, you can pay $35 to have a friend officiate. How about that juggler we saw last weekend!"

Veto!

"I think the reception needs an inflatable Moonwalk."

Vetoed (even after I promised to make everyone take off their shoes first).

But my BEST IDEA EVER may be worth fighting for. If enough of you write in with your support, maybe you'll help me override The Future Mrs. Murphy's veto power.

And the BEST IDEA EVER? A "Deal or No Deal" Wedding!

If you've seen the NBC game show "Deal or No Deal", then you understand why I'd like to be married by Howie Mandel. Here's how it would work:

Howie would walk out onstage to chat with our friends and family, and maybe even let my mom rub is bald head. When Howie says those magic words, "Ladies, please," the bride and bridesmaids would march out as high-intensity music plays. Of course, instead of bouquets they would all be carrying briefcases. I'd pick The Future Mrs. Murphy's briefcase, and the Banker (her father standing in the shadows with a shotgun) would ensure I don't make a deal for one of the bridesmaids.

Surely, Howie Mandel solemnly asking, "Deal, or no deal?" would be as romantic as "Do you, Andy, take this woman…"

But Jen's response to the idea?

"No deal!"

At least she's getting into the spirit of things.

Copyright © 2006 Andy Murphy
Please do not remove the copyright from this work.

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