I have become one of "the engaged peoples".
Yes, after eleven and half years of joyous living in sin we have decided to hitch up and incur the wrath of God no more. An emerald engagement ring has been purchased for my beautiful better half and I’m sporting a diamond-accented gold number myself. It’s all so terribly exciting and I just know you’ll want to know just how it happened.
Authentic Engagement Decision Reconstruction
Him: Good woman! Let us venture forth into the deepest bowels of the scurrilous region they call "The Lanes" in the homosexual-ridden haunts of the seaside city of Brighton just along this fine British coastline, thence to peruse the many vendors of jewellery-ware for we are but scant weeks from the celebration marking your arrival via the mechanism of birth into this world!
Her (swooning): Jewellery! Woohoo!
A conveyance ensues in an automocar …
Him: Good woman! I am beginning to despair of my decision to impart my visitation upon this city for the road signs indicating places designated for the parking of automocars have clearly been cast randomly throughout the many highways and routes criss-crossing this region in order to trap and confuse weary travellers and so convert them to gayism through pink osmosis.
Her: Sir! Look yonder! Despite the sign pointing towards the sea there is infact – should you glance beyond it – an automocar parking environment mere yards down this side street.
Him (swooning): Parking! Woohoo!
Our protagonists partake of some ambulation whereupon they soon find themselves within the shadowy world of "The Lanes" …
Her: Oh sir! These rings are so pretty! A woman would transform like the butterfly into a lady were she to wear these rings!
Him: Butterflies transform into ladies?
Her: Shut up.
Him: Shutting up.
Her (gasping): Upon my soul sir! Pray, glance into this jewellery-ware-vendor’s emporium and look upon this ring! Is it not beautiful and large and green and sparkly and beautiful and expensive and deep and rich and gorgeous and lovely and sparkle-sparkle-yummy?
Him: I get the impression you like it. You can have it if you want.
Him: Yeah. I don’t mind.
Her: And we’re not doing the voices anymore?
Him: Nah. The man with the handbag keeps looking at me funny when I pretend to twirl my invisible moustache. Do you want it then?
Her: It’s a bit pricey. I can’t have that. It is nice though.
Him: You know I won’t stop you. If you want it we’ll get it.
Her: We said we’d only buy something like that for "our special occasion".
Him: Then it can be for "our special occasion".
Him: Yeah, why not?
And they say romance is dead.