Irony Will Get You Nowhere



Big News!  So check it out, DeVandra and I have been dating for twelve years. Like many other a soul here in the Mission District, we're both a little skeptical of serious commitment or taking the next "step."  But after twelve years with her, I decided that it  was time to “pop the question.”

Everyone wants to know how I popped the big question, and I tell them how in past years, we always just improvised for our anniversary date, you know, let the night take us, but this year I decided to make it “special.”

I planned everything out and decided to take her to Revolution, our favorite coffee shop.  We go there about seven times a week, so I figured what better place, because the last thing DeVandra or I like is doing the "usual" thing, you know, getting dressed up and going somewhere pretentious.  Let the ordinary “puppets” have at it.  We'd rather sit and reminisce over a couple non-fat soy mocha's, made with fair-trade coffee beans  hand-picked by angels.

So the day of my “proposal,” I ran by a pawn shop and found this awesome “10-karat” tiger-eye ring, and swung by to pick DeVandra up.  She had no idea of the surprise in store. We get to Revolution, and while she’s nibbling on frosted pumpkin-cinammon bread, I whipped out the ring.  

Of course, I don’t get on one knee, cause that's so cliche'.  Instead, I quoted her the chorus of the Shills song, "You Make Me Wanna Fuck."

She looked at the ring, and said, "What's this?"

And then I said, “Will you “marryme?”

She gave me a long look.  "Really?"

I did the little air quotes, “Really."

"Oh my god!" she jumped up and started screaming, which I did not find very ironic, but before I could say anything, she was already dialing her friends saying we were engaged, which caused some confusion, you know, because you can't do air quotes over the phone, and then there was the whole business of DeVandra's family, because they're from Iowa, and have no sense of irony whatsoever, which only aggravated the problem. 

The next day, I must have gotten like ten phone calls from people saying, “Dude, Holy Shit! El Bachelorino's settling down?” and what could I say but that we were "engaged."

So yeah, El Bachelorino has been slain.  The good news is that we’ve gotten like a ton of wedding gifts, like a badass little grinder that allows you to make fresh pepper for every meal. 

I realize that irony is not exactly the best foundation for a marriage.  But judging by the statistics, it can’t be much worse than romance.