Whoever said you can't judge a book by its cover was some guy not above putting a beautiful, expensive gift in a muddy brown paper sack or a tacky box. Presenting a present is about more than the present. It's about building excitement. A well-packaged gift is fun to open, so the presenter has given more than a gift—they've given a memorable experience.

Presentation hints at what's inside, teasing the recipient. Why spend all that money on, say, a custom-made piece of jewelry and blow the opportunity to maximize the whole event from the wrapping to the giving? Why on earth stop there? A thought-out presentation increases the sentimental value in a fairy tale sort of way.

Case in point: the Wedding Proposal, the mother of all presentations. What is it about this moment that's so important to us? We care about the thought put into it, that he didn't just start and stop at the ring, that he exhausted himself to put the finishing touches on this final moment of the courtship. So in the tumultuous world of romance, is it really ok to judge a book by its cover? Is the wooing just as important as the size of the diamond?

“Me Tarzan. You Jane. Let's swing."

Courting goes back way before Darwin's finches. They knew it was about the their luxurious feathers, the swagger in their walks, the size of their tails—the presentation of masculinity and power and the promise for a future. For us, the courtship and the proposal are no different. It's during the "trial" period of the courtship that men do their best to out-shine the competition. The proposal is the final effort, the last chance to win her, the promise of love and protection for years to come. Primitively put, it tells us what you have to offer.

"Every girl needs a story to tell." –Nick

Before you start thinking that we've analyzed your instincts to the point of banality, know that the proposal means much more to us than a "test." Put Darwin back on his island with his birds, tell him to get a date, and hear us when we say that, honestly, we care about the proposal because it’s romantic. Even in our Wonder Woman outfits, raising families, bringing home the bacon (and cooking it), smashing through the glass ceiling like a speeding bullet, we still love, crave, weep for romance.

Next to the crazy wedding, where we take over and we have an audience, the proposal is private and personal. It's a chance to show off your feathers. We probably dreamed what our ring would look like, but ask any 10-year old little girl, and she probably has the fairy-tale proposal already planned out. When it finally happens, we want to have our very own story to tell to our squealing friends. We’ve been exchanging these stories since we first imagined ourselves in Cinderella’s glass slipper.

Rosie's Story:
My husband would always tease me, saying he would never spend a lot of money on a ring. "A prize out of a Cracker Jack box was good enough for me." For Valentine's Day he gave me a box of Cracker Jacks. When I looked inside the box the little prize package was on top. I opened the package and inside was a diamond ring. When I looked up, he smiled and said,

"I told you that's all you would ever get—the prize from a box of Cracker Jacks."

Viqui's Story:
My guy flew me to San Francisco for dinner on my birthday. He wanted to propose at the Top of the Mark (the Mark Hopkins Hotel). Who knew there would be no rooms and we'd stay across the street at the St. Francis? Or that it would be pouring rain and I'd break a heel running for cover under the Mark's big awning? Or that the restaurant at the Top of the Mark had become a lounge in the years since he'd been there? Heel-less, hungry and soaking wet, I couldn't believe it when I heard him say,

"Let me spend the rest of my life taking better care of you than this." For more than 20 years, he has.

My Story:
"After dating for a decade, my boyfriend kidnapped me from work and took me to the airport. He gave me a poem and I was supposed to figure out, first, Where we were going (Disneyland), then, Where in Disneyland he was going to propose. We arrived in LA late, too late to spend the money for a day at Disney, but he didn't care. We bought tickets anyway and RAN to the spot."

Margo's Story:
Cuddled up on the couch in my sweats. I was enthralled in my favorite TV show. My boyfriend came to the room and said, "Hey." He knew I was not to be bothered on Wednesdays between 7 and 8p.m. I didn't look at him the first time, so he tried again to get my attention by saying,"Hey, look." I did.
In his hand he had a beautiful crystal box. What he had in his hand couldn't possibly be what I thought it was...but it was enough to get me off the couch and into his arms. I didn't even give him the chance to utter another word, get on one knee, pledge his undying love, nada. Just knowing what was inside, knowing what it all meant, I was off the couch and in his arms kissing him with my answer!

The proposal is the climax of the courtship. The ring is the climax of the proposal. The planning, the build-up, the anticipation of that moment on bended knee is crucial. Every second of the relationship—the fights, the make-ups, the doubts, the stomach flutters—has led up to the decision to share many more moments together, year after year, till death do you part! The ring is the heart of the proposal, the presentation is the soul.