It's about time for me to pop the question, I think...

Maybe I’m moving too fast. I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship. 

At first I tried to take it slow. After all, I enjoy being single; I’m self-sufficient and rarely feel lonely, lost or worthless just because I’m not joined at the hip to a member of the fairer sex. Also, movies are cheaper when you’re only buying popcorn for one.

But being the irresistible stud muffin I am, it was only a matter of time before some lucky girl snatched me up.  (Look, if you don’t recognize irony when it’s being troweled on this thick, I can’t help you.)

I’m pretty crazy about Lori, but even so, I dragged my feet the first couple months we were dating. I didn’t want to give up my lakeside apartment. I didn’t want to move to her house in the country. I didn’t want to, well, be a grownup again.

A single guy can remain indefinitely in a state of quasi-adolescence, an existence defined by nights out with the guys, sleeping in until noon on Sundays and a lawn that grows waaaaay too long before feeling the mower’s blade.

A guy in a relationship has, um, what are those things called again? Oh, yeah, responsibilities.

I hate responsibilities, yet I’ve managed to get myself into a relationship. A serious one. So serious, in fact, that this past weekend, after a lovely “mini-vacation” up north with my sweetie, I decided to take that next, Big Step.

It could have been the warm, post-vacation glow that dulled my resistance to commitment. Or the second glass of wine with dinner. Whatever the case, I made up my mind to pop the question.

I wanted everything to be perfect. I waited for the right moment, until we were home in front of the fireplace, lounging in the flames’ benevolent radiance.

“Babe,” I said. “I have something important to ask you.”

Lori’s eyes gleamed expectantly in the firelight. “What is it?” she said.

“Well, I know we’ve only been together a while,” I said. “I mean, you know, really really together, and…”

“Yes?” she said.

“Um, that is to say, I think it’s time…”

“Yes? Yes?” she said.

I cleared my throat and plunged forward. “I think it’s time we bought a grill.”

“A grill?”

“Yeah,” I said. “One of those big, family-sized ones. You know, for when we have the kids over or whatever.”

Lori’s reaction was not as enthusiastic as I’d expected, but we made the trip to the mega-store later that day and picked up a five-burner, stainless steel beauty that is now the envy of the neighborhood.

And believe me, that decision to purchase a grill says more about my commitment to this relationship than any piece of jewelry ever could. A grill, particularly a big, expensive grill, speaks of a future together, of longevity, permanence.

That grill says that for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, we’ll be making burgers together for the foreseeable future. If that’s not love, what is?

mtaylor@staffordgroup.com

(616) 548-8273