Chapter Text
CONCLUDED
Note: Tentatively marked concluded, because OOP regularly goes back and updates other posts and is active on wedding-related subs. I have a feeling this story isn't over yet.
Trigger warning: transphobia, dysphoria
mood spoiler: wholesome/sweet
Originally posted by u/throwawayromeo on r/relationship_advice:
Should I propose to my fiancee?
Yes, I know it's a weird question but bear with me.
So I (26M) have been with my fiance (25NB, AMAB) since high school. He came out to me as nonbinary last year. Usually he uses he/him. He describes his gender as 80% guy, 15% lady and 5% bubblegum pop drag princess (his Mother¹ really likes To Wong Foo, lol). Sorry, pronouns might get confusing.
We got engaged a few weeks ago, which I am still completely losing my mind over. The ring I got him is really nice. It has abalone and amethyst on it and it's made of tungsten. Except for the amethyst, it matches mine (I have a pearl, which I am just now realizing is funny for reasons that will become clear).
80% of the time, he's deliriously happy showing it off to anyone who will look. The thing is, it's really masculine, because when he's feeling masculine he feels really masculine, and that's most of the time.
He's still pretty new to the whole gender thing and also generally a pretty anxious person, so we've been using codes to talk about it because it's a little easier to tell me "I'm in fifteen percent mode" or something than "I feel like a woman today", which I totally understand. We came up with a nickname for her, too. We call her Pearl (not the real nickname but close, it's something you can wear as jewelry).
So anyway, Pearl definitely likes the ring, but she's conflicted about it. She hasn't complained and she never will. But last night we went on a date to an opera, and she wore this absolutely stunning floor-length gown and silk gloves and a wig in her natural color that went all the way down her back. I was so busy gaping like a horny fish I didn't even notice she was wearing the ring on a chain around her neck instead of her finger until we got in the car.
I didn't ask her about it. I'm pretty sure it would have embarrassed her, and she would have put it on and sucked up the dysphoria because she thought I was unhappy. But it gave me an idea.
I want to take her out to a really nice restaurant and give her a ring that matches her name. Something feminine and pretty she can feel good in. I want her to feel like Juliet on her balcony. Like Taylor Swift in the music video for Love Story.
I just don't want to put her on the spot, you know? I don't want to draw attention to it if it'll make her feel crappy, but this is super new for both of us, so I have no idea what I'm doing. He did drag shows for two years before Pearl perked her head up and let him know she was a part of him.
She has a hard time expressing herself, since she grew up with a lot of very strict pressure to adhere to gender norms. She's one of those people who can easily see that it's bullshit, except for when she turns it inward. She makes herself the exception to her own acceptance.
It breaks my heart. Sometimes she cries about it, which is actually a huge improvement. Before Pearl, he couldn't cry except in literal life or death situations. He still mostly can't, but she can.
She likes the opportunities to have a few milestones, like coming downstairs in a beautiful dress while I'm waiting at the door in a tux with a corsage. He went to prom with me, but she's never been to a dance. My housemate² helped me buy her a (not-actually) pearl bracelet for her birthday, and she cried and laughed and told me she loved me and demanded I put it on her. (My hands were super sweaty, so it took me a couple tries. It looks great on her.)
I imagine myself taking her hand while we wait for dessert. Telling her how beautiful she is. How much I love her, that I can't wait to introduce her to people as my wife, that she's as knock-out drop-dead gorgeous as he is knock-out drop-dead handsome. Telling her how proud I am to be seen with her on my arm. How much her happiness means to me.
I imagine getting on one knee, taking her hand and asking "Antoinette Pearl³ Smith (not her real full name either), will you do me the honor of being my bride?"
I imagine her crying. That's where my imagination starts letting my insecurity interfere.
Sometimes, I see her smiling and crying and laughing and asking me to put it on her, the same way she reacted to the pearl bracelet. Sometimes, I picture her bursting into tears and having a panic attack because I reminded her in public. I feel like there's a pretty even chance that it's either exactly the validation she needs from me, or it's the worst possible plan I could come up with.
She's elegant, classy and sophisticated, but she has a glam edge. We get stares when I'm out in public with her. She's pretty convinced it's because she doesn't pass (she can sing high bass parts and she's over 7 feet tall in her 8-inch dagger pumps and yes that turns me on), but I've seen the way people look at her. Most of them are staring for the same reason I do: because she's a gorgeous, magnificent Amazonian bombshell of a woman who leaves you breathless and makes your heart race, just by entering your field of vision. She looks at me and I can't remember my own name. I'm that caught up in her face. Her eyes, especially. They're like a field of snow in the moonlight. I swear in certain conditions, they actually glitter.
When I say she's outrageously attractive, I mean the second word literally. People are drawn to her. They can't help it. It's natural when a goddess walks among mortals, I guess. ;)
(And yeah, sometimes some of those people are horrible and we've heard plenty of slurs, but we live near a liberal city steeped in queer culture and history, which helps. I've taken a few punches, but I've thrown them back too, and there's always somebody nearby who checks in with us and makes sure we're okay afterwards. All things considered, we could be in a much less trans-friendly situation.
Plus with the whole, y'know, six and a half foot tall amazon goddess thing, people don't mess with her very often, and when they do, they regret it very quickly. She used to be an elite athlete and it still shows in how much she can bench press.
…and yes, I do go to the gym with her so I can watch her work out. Shut up. She's hot and lucky for me, she thinks it's cute when I stare.)
I guess I just really, really want to make sure she knows I'm attracted to her and in love with her, and that I would be even if I'd never met him— honestly, if I'd met Pearl first, we probably would have started dating a lot sooner, because I already knew I liked tall, blonde, brilliant, sophisticated women, and that's exactly what she is.
I want her to feel like I'm not just going along with it for her sake and telling her she's beautiful because I think he's handsome and want to support my future spouse— although the last two things actually are true. I think she's beautiful because I think my partner is a stunningly attractive person under any circumstances, and I'd support my future spouse no matter what. I guess I just want to reassure her, specifically, that I really, seriously think she's the prettiest, sexiest, most magnetic girl I've ever met, all on her own. When I think about our wedding, I get choked up whether I'm imagining him in a suit or her in a gown. I need her to know as surely as I do that there's no part of her I'm not captivated by.
Am I overthinking this? Am I being ridiculous? (Yes and yes.) Should I ask her girlfriends for advice? Should I ask my girlfriends for advice?? Should I go hang around at some gay bars and see if I can find any elders who can talk some sense into me? Should I talk to her sister (31), who's more of a mom to her than their actual mom was? Should I talk to my mom? Maybe my kid sister can lend me some of her childhood wisdom...she's very, very good at keeping surprises (never secrets).
I don't know. I'm rambling. I started writing this post because my BFF (27M) is teaching her to sew bc she's way too tall even for most plus size shops and she just finished her very first circle skirt. She's been spinning around all day like a toddler in a Cinderella costume. It's so fucking cute. Please help. I may actually be dying.
I'm going to go dance with her now so she stops giving me the sad baby kitten eyes. Thanks in advance if you made it all the way through! Yikes, me.
—
Edit, three weeks later:
SHE SAID YES!!!!!!!!!!
—
Second edit, a day after the first:
Sorry, I was busy with my fiancee and never really reported back. (Not actually sorry. We had a great night.)
I took the genius suggestion from a few hundred of you that I should take her out for dinner first and propose to her afterwards in private. It was honestly kinda hard to resist, because I have ADHD, so my impulse control is not great to begin with. I guess I'm lucky it also meant I kept getting too distracted checking her out to remember what impulse I was trying to avoid, lol.
She. Was. Enchanting.
Gauzy blue dress. The same blonde wig she wore to the opera, which goes down to her ass (and considering her height, is a lot of wig). The bracelet I gave her. Sparkly blue ballet flats with a story behind them that makes me melt, which I'll tell at the end.
(She left the dagger pumps at home because she knew we were going to be walking, but she put them on when we got back to our place because she knows me way too well. 😍)
She wore the abalone ring on a chain around her neck again. I'd managed to casually drop into an earlier conversation that I was happy she'd figured out a way to wear it comfortably, which gave her room to admit it's "exactly what [she] want[s] until it isn't" instead of just guilting herself for having a gender moment because she should suck up her own discomfort and appreciate a gift and blah de fucking blah. Her hand looked a little bare, but that just made me even more soppy and romantic thinking about how that was hopefully gonna change.
After we ate, we went for a walk. Usually, he holds out his arm and I take it, but when I'm out with Pearl I get to be the gentleman, which is always really fun. We ran into a little girl, maybe 3 or 4, who lost her tiny toddler mind over seeing "Elsa" in real life— not the first time a small child has thought Pearl was Disney royalty, and it never gets any less adorable to watch her play along.
(It's funny, because Let It Go is actually one of her drag songs. She has a full Elsa costume and everything. I keep telling her she should book birthday parties and I think she might be considering it. She's so good with kids and she's gonna be such a good mom. ;_; She's already a minor celebrity with the little ones in our town; Drag Queen Story Hour with Miss Pearl— Ms. Pearl now, I guess!— packs the children's room at our library every June.)
Anyway, after we parted ways with our new friends, I took her to my old apartment building. We used to sit outside my room on the fire escape and pretend we could see the stars while we talked about our deepest secrets.
I had this whole fucking speech prepared. I wrote it down and everything. I never even got it out of my pocket, because I looked at her and I just couldn't stay composed. I started blubbering before I could even open my mouth.
Some background info: I have a hard time actually saying the L word. I don't really know why. Traumatic childhood, I guess. But we were standing there on that dingy street, right by the alley where the dumpsters are. It stunk the way only Manhattan dumpsters can. She was so unbelievably pretty, looking at me like that, it somehow felt like we were in an elegant rooftop restaurant in Paris.
I just… started bawling. And "I love you" was suddenly all I could say. Over and over. She told me when we got home that she was a little worried I was about to tell her I was dying (oops!).
She reached into her little clutch (it matches her shoes) and pulled out a tissue, because she was a boy scout and to this day she's always prepared for a crisis with snacks and first aid and stuff. I don't know how she's still attracted to me after how loudly I honked when I blew my nose. But I took a deep breath, and I got down on one knee.
(Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone; I love you and that's all I really know~)
I don't remember if I managed to ask her in words. I pretty much only remember the look on her face, and how impressed I was that her makeup wasn't running even though she was crying too. I'm also impressed that neither of us managed to drop the ring and lose it, considering how dark and dingy it was and how badly both our hands were shaking.
It's even more perfect for her than I was imagining. Her drag mom (28M) is also a metalsmith, and he helped me find it at an estate sale and resized the band so it would fit her. It's vintage, and it's big enough that on someone smaller it might look a little gaudy, but it's just the right size for her hand. It matches her bracelet. She describes her style as "Audrey Hepburn meets pastel goth", and the ring compliments it so well. She looked like she belonged on a golden age red carpet.
We kissed in front of the stupid dumpsters. Our mood lighting was a half-burnt-out street lamp. I'm pretty sure a couple of rats were either mating or fighting to the death in the alleyway. It was like a scene from a movie, when the orchestra rises to a crescendo.
But the best part of the night (yes, including the part where she stripped down to lingerie and dagger pumps) was when we got home and I opened the car door for her. She took my hand to get out, stopped, looked at the ring, looked up at me with tears in her eyes and told me I made her feel like a queen.
She's asleep right now. She never took off her makeup (it's super cute, she puts so much painstaking effort into putting it on and just passes out without washing her face because she's so physically drained from all the intense, complicated emotions). I usually take it off for her, but I don't want to leave her side even to get the cleanser. I'm typing this one-handed on my phone because I can't stand not having physical contact with her.
My other hand is on her left wrist. She never took the ring off either. 🥰💍
When she wakes up, I'm gonna ask her how she feels about a 'royal ball' theme for our reception.
[The story behind the flats: Partner, our housemates and I go to pride with my family every year. My kid sister (age single digits but I'm not specifying which one) has always loved wild costumes and playing dress-up. Last year was Pearl's first pride, and my BFF made a kickass mermaid gown in the trans flag colors for her.
KS was obsessed and she decided that next pride, she wanted to go as a mini-Pearl. Big Pearl was so flattered she made a whole weekend out of it with her sister and my mother— no boys allowed, as KS gleefully told me before slamming the door in my face, lmao.
Anyway, they got a hotel room and went to the mall and found a bunch of accessories, including ballet flats that look almost exactly like a pair Pearl already had. During the parade, KS pointed out that they matched down to their shoes to everyone who would listen. They looked so cute with my sister following Pearl around and imitating her poses that I think I'm still blushing. We even have a photo of the shoes together and it's so funny; KS' flats look like doll shoes next to Pearl's 🤣)
They're planning on making it a yearly tradition (no-boys-allowed sis/mom/SIL/MIL weekend and all). Last year they went with a mermaid theme. I can't wait to see what they come up with next time.]