Whispers and Rings
Sometimes love speaks loudest in quiet moments
I’ve spent a good chunk of my adult life imagining how I’d love to be proposed to.
Sometimes, I make little scenes in my head—cute, funny, emotional and these scenes change with time. One year it’s a proposal in a hot air balloon, the next it’s a quiet moment over pancakes on a rainy morning. I’ve watched countless proposal videos on social media, seen friends get engaged in grand, cinematic ways, and others in the most quiet, tender ways imaginable. I’ve heard stories from friends and strangers alike, stories with diamonds hidden in cakes, fireworks lighting up the sky, or friends flying in from out of town.
I’ve seen men plan surprise proposals with the help of her friends. I’ve seen some where gifts came in waves, and others where it was just a simple “Will you marry me?” with a trembling voice and teary eyes. I’ve even seen a woman do the proposing. And I’ve got to say whether big or small, every one of them tells a unique love story.
But there’s one story that I always find oddly funny and strangely sweet and it stuck with me.
A lady had gone to spend a few days at her boyfriend’s place. It was just a regular weekend of love and soft life—Netflix, cuddles, gist, and food. Then Monday came. He went to work, and she stayed home doing some light cleaning and prepping a meal. A few hours in, she got a call from him. She smiled, picked up.
“Babe, good afternoon,” she said.
“Ke kwanu?” he replied. After a few seconds of talk, he told her he forgot something and needed her help checking it. He described exactly where it was.
She found the item, a small box and he said, “Open it.” Inside was a ring.
“Try it on, let me see if it’s your size,” he added casually.
She laughs, slides it on, and says, “Yes, it fits.”
He chuckled and asked, “The ring is your size, abi? So baby, I ga-nu m?”
She laughed in shock and excitement. “Yes!” she said, without hesitation.
He simply replied, “Okay. I’ll see you when I get home. We’ll talk better then.”
Just like that, in the middle of a regular Monday. No kneeling. No crowd. No pressure. And still she was overjoyed.
Me? I think it’s funny. It’s calm, personal, unbothered by the world. But please, don’t do me like that.
See, after watching movies and hearing proposal stories over the years, I’ve been able to dream up what I’d want mine to look like. It’s not one fixed scene—no but there’s always a common thread. Walk with me for a moment.
Imagine this.
My partner and i go on a lovely date. We eat well, laugh endlessly, talk about everything and nothing, and finally return home. We shower, get into something cozy, and knock out from sheer joy and exhaustion. The next morning, I get up, head to the restroom. I’m replaying last night in my head when I glance down and notice something on my finger.
It’s a ring. A beautiful, delicate ring just sitting there. No announcement, no cameras, just us. I step out of the bathroom in shock, and he’s already watching me.
“You saw it?”
I nod, eyes wide.
“So… will you?”
I don’t need time to think, and before i can even speak, my smile gives the answer away. The answer was already “yes” the moment I noticed it.
Or maybe it’s movie night. Just us on the couch, blankets everywhere, pizza box on the floor, something simple and sweet. Halfway through the laughter, he pauses, looks at me differently, and asks, “Can I make you mine forever?”
Or we’re on a walk. Just a regular evening stroll, and somewhere quiet, just the two of us, he kneels and asks.
Or maybe we’re on a trip, our last day in a beautiful place, and he lets me enjoy the whole experience before asking the one question that changes everything.
These are the kinds of proposals I see myself saying yes to.
Nothing dramatic. No crowd. No pressure. Just me and him, in a space that feels like home.
Don’t get me wrong, I love love. I’ll still smile and squeal whenever I see a big proposal video online. Whether it’s at a packed restaurant, in front of a billboard, or under a sky of fireworks, I love to see it. But for me?
I want something that lets me cry if I want, scream if I feel like it, laugh without holding back. I want to be able to hold him all at once without worrying about people staring or cameras capturing my ugly-cry moment. A proposal that makes space for all my feelings, all my softness, all my chaos. I want it slow, honest, and deeply personal.
A moment where everything else fades, and it’s just two people, choosing each other without needing the world to watch.
And no, wanting something simple isn’t a bad thing. In fact, sometimes the quietest “yes” is the loudest of all.
What I’ve come to realise through all my dreaming and imagining is that the way I want to be proposed to reflects the way I want to be loved: softly, thoughtfully, without pressure or performance. I want love that chooses presence over presentation. That kind of love doesn’t need an audience—it just needs two hearts that feel safe, seen, and sure.
With love,
Dinma
xoxo