Moonlight PropositionOur Lucaya Beach & Golf ResortBy Olivier Gibbons
The weekend before I proposed we visited our married friends. On our final night, the four of us sat down to watch the romantic comedy, Meet the Parents. The irony of the movie hit a week later as Darleen and I landed at Grand Bahama International Airport in the Bahamas. Like in the movie, my engagement ring was nearly sabotaged at an airport, not by a metal detector, but by an inquisitive customs official, merely doing her job. As she politely asked me to open a large box containing the ring, a sense of panic enveloped me, as Darleen stood patiently just behind me. Would I have to propose here, in the bowels of an airport surrounded by strangers and uniformed guards? I quickly made eye contact and slowly shook my head. Leaning forward, I whispered, “there’s an engagement ring in there, please don’t ask me to open it.” Her warm smile relieved me. “All right the woman said. “Enjoy your stay on the island.”
For one reason or another, we got to dinner late, which set off a series of somewhat comical events. As we made it to the dinner table, the maitre ‘d quietly alerted me to a phone call from a hotel staff member wanting to know whether Darleen and I were about to return to our room. The candles placed throughout the suite had been burning for quite some time, fueling concern among the hotel staff that fire could suddenly engulf the room. So, I quickly excused myself from dinner and ran to the room in order to blow out the candles. But I couldn’t find my key card and rushed back to the check-in lobby to get another card. It didn’t work. Off again, I ran, knowing full well that Darleen would be seething at my prolonged absence. Finally, I got into the room and blew out the candles. Out of breath, I made it back to dinner only to find everyone else already on dessert, and my sweetie fuming with impatience. I quickly explained to Darleen that I was overcome by a sudden attack of diarrhea, an explanation that failed to go over well. Following dinner, I yanked myself away a second time, hurrying off to the room to relight the candles and pick up the package that contained the platinum ring. It was right where I had left it, inside a large chest at the foot of the bed, nestled inside a box containing a Lladro. Darleen collects these Spanish figurines, and I had planned on presenting her with this gift. Once she opened it, she would find a bridal couple, along with the ring. But nothing had gone along as planned, and with the evening already bordering on disaster, I opted to improvise. Tearing the package apart, I retrieved the ring, placing it inside the front pocket of my trousers. I rejoined Darleen who had wandered to the bar, and persuaded her to take a walk along the beach. We took off our shoes, and wasting no time, I told her to remove her earrings, hoping that when I presented her with the small gift, she would presume that she was getting a pair of diamond studs. On a moonlight night, with a warm breeze and the ocean serving as our backdrop, I opened the case, exposing a 2-carat princess cut diamond mounted above two channels of small, round diamonds. “Oh, my God,” Darleen exclaimed. Not allowing time for the magnitude of the occasion to properly set in, I ordered her back to the suite, fearing that the candle flames had perhaps spread fire. Following yet another spirited run, I shoved the key card in the slot, thrust Darleen into my arms and entered the suite. For the first time all evening, everything appeared in place. With soft music playing in the background, I gently slid Darleen onto her feet, sidestepping the tealight candles on the floor. The flickering flames highlighted the rose pedals leading through the suite and up to the chest. On top of the chest at the foot of the bed lay the Lladro, next to a bottle of chilled champagne and plate of chocolate-covered strawberries. It wasn’t until seeing the figurine of the bridal couple that Darleen grasped the auspicious nature of the occasion, and became emotional. “You still haven’t answered my question,” I told her. “Yes, sweetie, of course I’ll marry you.” With only one day left in the Bahamas, I wasted no time in broaching the subject of an immediate wedding. We met with the hotel’s wedding coordinator, who said she could plan a romantic wedding along the shores of the Atlantic for as little as $700. We could even have a catamaran whisk us to a nearby private island. “It’ll be romantic,” I said. “We can do it at sunset, facing the ocean.” For all of the predictable reasons, this was one proposition Darleen rejected. In the absence of our friends and family I did not stand a chance. I did, however, plant a seed in her head. Given more time and preparation, we could ultimately plan a destination wedding. The idea, I think, is particularly appealing to men who seek to avoid the hassles of planning a costly wedding at home. And those difficult decisions about whom to invite – and whom to exclude – are resolved all by themselves as overseas travel would presumably dissuade marginal guests from attending. Party pooper, you say? Maybe so, but just about every couple I’ve ever talked to say that if they had to have the traditional wedding all over again, they wouldn’t. Too many headaches, too much stress and way too much parental involvement, they say. Whether Darleen and I return to Our Lucaya or venture elsewhere for a destination wedding, ultimately, Darleen will certainly get her way – brides always do.
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Deep down, I knew she would say no. Still, I figured the prospect of avoiding a long, drawn out engagement would be worth the slim chance that Darleen would be so captivated by the romantic Caribbean setting that she would say, “I do.”
Darleen and I met about 13 years ago in Virginia at a wedding; her best friend married a dear fraternity brother of mine. We later became lovers and dated for a couple of years, before breaking up, only to reunite after a decade of drifting apart. 
Within 15 minutes we reached our destination: Our Lucaya Beach & Resort, a sprawling oasis along 372 acres of beachfront property on Grand Bahama Island. After checking in, we were escorted to Lighthouse Pointe, the most exclusive of the hotel’s three distinct guest complexes. A complimentary bottle of Kendall Jackson awaited us, along with a fresh array of flowers and fruits. We spent the afternoon poolside and retired early that night following dinner.
Our suite offered views of the ocean, and a terrace equipped with a small table and chairs, convenient for enjoying a first cup of coffee. That morning I arose to anticipation, envisioning just how I would propose come nighttime. To set her in the mood, I arranged for Darleen to receive a late-afternoon shiatsu massage at Senses Spa, part of the resort’s Spa & Fitness Center. Her hour-long treatment allowed me time to finalize the evening’s details with the hotel concierge, who assured me that our suite would be readied as Darleen and I dined on a succulent meal with fellow guests.