Previously on The West Wing (or at least The West Wing we'd like to see instead - which leads people to start writing):

"The sooner you get today over with, the sooner you'll be able to start suffering due punishment for the many times you will botch that wedding proposal."

"I will not botch it, Donatella."

"Yes, you will."

~~

It's nearly five pm and I'm still slightly hung over despite seven cups of coffee. I'm also slightly embarrassed at Donna catching me dreaming about proposing, and extremely frustrated because of the kissing and general fondling this morning that led absolutely nowhere.

But the main reason for the lack of focus the entire day?

I have to figure out how to propose to Donna. Properly.

So here I am in my fifth meeting which is also my last meeting but it's a meeting I'm supposed to be running and from the amused looks on everyone's face, it's a meeting I seem to be screwing up.

"And so, uh..." I look down at the sheaf of papers on the table. "Any questions?"

From the shaking of heads I surmise that, despite my vagueness, I was verbose enough to make some sort of sense. Twenty years in politics means I can bluff my way through anything.

Except of course... Donna.

I dismiss everyone with a thank you, gather up my mess of papers and take off, brain whirring insanely. I tried all day to avoid thinking about this but I have a whole hour before I have to meet her for dinner.

So let's work it out.

I can't bluff my way through a proposal. It has to be perfect. And romantic. And... incomparable to anything else in her life. She's going to remember it forever.

She wants a first date - fine. She wants to be normal, again fine. But the thing is: we're not normal people. Our jobs are not normal, our lives are not normal. As for our relationship? I'm not even going there.

Since the second date is where, as she once said, the wheels fall off the wagon, I'm not even going to allow us to get there. The second date is going to be me marrying her. Hang on... no that's not so much a good idea.

So I have to propose before we have enough dates for things to go wrong. That way she belongs to me and she can't leave, no matter what happens. Okay perhaps I shouldn't use those words in the proposal.

Or at all.

Mental note: possessiveness is not good in any relationship. Especially one that's gonna last forever. And it's gonna last forever because I say so.

Mental note number two: Try to be less possessive.

Back to the proposal.

This is ridiculous. I can turn a complete policy change around in two hours; I can bring lost votes back to our side; I can get a dark horse elected as the Democratic nominee for President.

I can organize a proposal in an hour right? I just have to figure it out. Research.

Except - she's better at research than I am. And she likes it. And she makes me note cards.

But I can do this by myself. Because it's more romantic. Well no, but I can't ask the receptor of the proposal to plan it. That's just... pathetic.

So. Now what?

I'm standing here in the hotel lobby. Donna's off in a meeting no doubt, I need to figure out how to propose to her, and my head is still killing me.

I need Advil.

I hit the hotel gift shop, buy two packets and a bottle of water - I swallow four in quick succession and head for the elevator to go back to my room.

My dream last night - the one where I proposed to her in my office - flashes through my headache. God, proposing to her in my office? Even in my dreams I'm egotistical.

But there were rose petals which are good in proposals. Were there candles? I can't really remember.

I asked her parents permission. But the thing is: Donna wouldn't want that. Sure it's polite and romantic in an old fashioned sort of way, but she's not the Jane Austen young innocent virg-

Okay, I'm not going to think about all the other men. The point is, that's not going to be part of my proposal. Donna's parents like me; they wouldn't have any problem with us getting married. But they should be at the wedding. Which means I can't marry her for at least a few days. Damn.

Still, I think I need to propose before I can start thinking about the actual wedding. Which I shouldn't be thinking about at all because what if she says no?

Okay, that was stupid. She's already said she's going to say yes. She wants the talk about the kids and the job, and where we're gonna live? Fine. We can do that after she says yes. Which she's already going to do. So that's okay.

Now I just need to make the proposal perfect.

And not botch it up.

The elevator arrives at my floor; I unlock the door to my room and head straight to my laptop to plug myself into Google. 117,000 hits on the phrase 'wedding proposals'.

There are so many ways I could ask her. The Internet says so.

Huh. This may take some time.

I click on the first one. I don't have time to waste and it looks promising: Romantic Marriage Proposal Ideas.

The page is decorated with pinks and blues and whites. There's a link for the worst time of the day to get engaged. Oh hang on, that's a link to buy a book. Yeah, I don't have the time to wait for a book to be delivered.

Further down the page there's a suggestion for a proposal in bed. Somehow I think she might not appreciate being popped the question in the middle of sex.

My brain hurts.

I stare blankly at the laptop screen trying hard not to whimper.

I'm a romantic guy right? I think I am. Maybe. Well maybe not. The last semi romantic thing I did for a woman was organized by Donna. I'm more the flowers and candy kind of guy.

Except yeah... I kind of screwed up the giving of flowers to her for many years. Not screwed up per se but she may not appreciate a reminder of my average run of the mill snarkiness.

Still, I guess she forgives me for it.

The computer clock says 5.27. I need to be downstairs in half an hour for dinner with her. I want to have a plan before then - or at least the idea of a plan.

Most of the proposals on this website take planning and while I can run the country, I know that I can't organize a skywriter to spell out MARRY ME DONNATELLA MOSS before dinner.

Besides, knowing my luck with women, the plane would probably spell out DONNATELLO MOOS.

She'd laugh at that. Then she'd kiss me and I'd kiss her and then perhaps I'd...

Okay FOCUS Josh. Right now, you need actual proper focus here.

I return to Google and try to narrow down my search but after ten more minutes of fruitless clicking I'm still nowhere.

I can't write poems, I can't ride in on a white stallion and sweep her off her feet, and I can't rent a hot air balloon and propose to her over the Grand Canyon although proposing on a donkey would be really clever.

We're in DC. This place is full of cool things to do and see. There are rivers and bays; there's a National Park.

Outdoors is a romantic place to propose. I could rent a boat and take her out to the middle of the Potomac, get down on one knee and ask her.

And then fall out because let's face it - I'm not a sailor in any sense of the word. Although rowing isn't sailing right? I can row. No... I really can't. And as for Rock Creek? Well we all know how much of an outdoorsman I'm not.

Yes I'm babbling! I babble when I panic, okay? And I'm panicking big time here.

So where else can I propose that's quick and easy and does not involve places where I can get wet or sit in poison ivy? I don't care about hot air balloons and skywriters and the twitter of birds in the park.

Proposing in the White House: not a good start to the future; I want her to believe me when I say she'll always come first in my life and doing it in the White House...

Okay stop thinking about that. Focus on proposing. There will be no sex at the office.

Unless she wants to?

FOCUS!

I just want to get down on one knee, whip out a ring and ask her to marry me. Is that so hard to plan?

Oh. My. God.

A ring. I don't have a ring. I am ringless.

I can't propose without a ring.

Why is my life so difficult?

The hollow thunk of my head hitting the table echoes around the room. I'm going to screw this like I've screwed everything with her for so many years.

I love her more than I've ever loved anyone or anything but I can't plan the perfect beginning to our lives. What does that say about me as a man?

I don't have a ring, I don't have a plan to propose and I have to meet her for dinner in ten minutes. And then spend hours at a party making small talk with people I don't like and hardly know when I would rather be in bed.

Obviously not alone. Come on, I'm a man and after almost nine years of back and forth, she's finally mine. You think I'd rather be schmoozing than having... other kinds of fun? Damn gala.

Hang on... food, champagne, and a big band. Men in tuxedos and women in beautiful dresses. She likes those things.

Plan!

I'm proposing tonight. At the gala!

I'll take her to the balcony where we had our first kiss not two days ago. I'll get down on one knee and say... okay I have to work on what I'm going to say.

It's not going to be 'Marry me and make me the happiest man in the world'. It needs to be clever and witty. It needs to make her laugh and cry at the same time. It's going to be original.

Unforgettable.

Like her.

Good job Josh, you were an idiot but now you're a genius - and a romantic genius at that.

I check my watch. Five minutes to six and it starts at eight. If I blow off dinner with Donna I can have two more two hours to perfect my plan: figure out exactly what to say and exactly when to say it.

And buy a ring.