My dearest [insert name of girl you found at last call one night several years ago],
We’ve been together just two short years, which is about two years longer than I originally expected after that night we left for my house from the bar in that cab that smelled of three-day old Indian food and regret. We have become very close, mostly because we are now in our mid-20s and our group of single friends is shrinking faster than the ice those polar bears love so much. Much like the polar bears, we’re afraid that our dwindling mate options will cause us to drown in a sea of loneliness, or maybe just an actual sea if you’re a polar bear. That realization has caused us to stay together for much longer than we probably should have, despite my crippling insecurity issues and your desire to find Prince Charming. Sadly, I’m not him. Hell, I’m not even Prince. If I was Prince, I could make those cool ’80s blouses look good, but sadly, I can’t. I know this is one of the great disappointments of our relationship.
Despite all this, I propose we get engaged to marry, not because it’s the intelligent thing to do–God knows there are people out there better suited for each of us to spend our lives with–but because our parents and friends are literally hiding behind buildings, trees, and bushes on every one of our date nights like the sea creatures in “The Little Mermaid,” hoping to convince us that the time is right to tie the knot. Frankly, I’m just tired of seeing the disappointment in your aunt’s eyes when we retire to the apartment for some mediocre sex and a lackluster hand job. I think we need to get engaged not for us, but for them.
This engagement, being our first, is unlikely to last much longer than six months. We’ll probably have a catastrophic falling out and each of us will have to make a series of complete life changes, which will ultimately end in us both finding other, better people to be with. That said, on the off chance it does work out, we can guarantee each other company until difficult life events and the attractive guy or girl at work comes along. We’ll drift apart from each other and have what will end up being a messy but ultimately amicable divorce.
So [name of girl you really shouldn’t get engaged to], will you make a decision that future commentators might call one of the worst of the early 21st century and marry me? At the least, I can promise our wedding will make a fraternity formal look like a civilized affair, and at the best, I can promise a mediocre marriage that will still be more successful than 50 percent of the rest of American marriages.
Will you be mine ’til opportunity for something way better do us part?
The guy you definitely should have left face down in his giant hat of whiskey ginger.