Well, it’s been a few days since I’ve been disproportionately scathing about a section of humanity, so without further ado I’m going to be in ur screen bein’ ur misanthropist about people who propose to their partners in public places.
You know the deal. You’re at a concert. The band grinds to a halt. The frontman sheepishly steps back and hands the microphone to a well-fed sweatmonster who has decided to ruin your evening by dragging his poor girlfriend onto the stage to deliver nauseating clichés about her making him happy (the irony of the stage literally being a pedestal being lost on him) before dropping to one knee and saying something along the lines of “Jane, in front of all these people – will you marry me?”
Then everyone in the crowd whoops and hollers as if Jesus himself had returned to save us all over again, bringing with him heaven’s supply of Haribo Starmix for everybody instead of boring old bread and fishes.
Nothing makes me feel so alone in a crowd. I want Jane to step onto the stage, yell “NO!” into the mic, then kick the passive-aggressive psycopath in the bollocks with a specially modified shoe before it’s all too late and she becomes a world-weary wife, listening to her husband singing along to the Country & Western classic, “I kissed my baby with my fists” while she scrubs her blood stains off his shirt.
Mr P. Aggressive is fostering a situation of social awkwardness in order to force his girlfriend to say yes. It’s the lamest thing I can possibly imagine, and when it happens, it makes me want to puke all over myself. This girl has the right idea, but could probably have done with knowing about the modified shoe concept in advance.