When it comes to getting married, women thankfully do not have to fret over the idea of asking their future father-in-law for his child’s hand in marriage.

Today, a lot of women do not expect this custom to occur, and they might even oppose it. After all, the custom probably dates from when marriages were business arrangements. Asking permission could even suggest that the woman is a commodity, a possession.

Requesting consent from her father could also imply that the woman cannot decide for herself. In any case, I view it differently.

Asking for Her Hand
I applaud any guy who has the respect and guts to approach his girlfriend’s father, state his intentions, and then ask him for his blessing. Perhaps it’s because I’m old-fashioned, or because of the close relationship I have with my own father.

Most likely, though, I revere this custom because of the extraordinary circumstances that my fiancé, Brian, endured in fulfilling it.

Let me give you some background on the two most important men in my life, my father and Brian. I am the fourth of six children in a close-knit Irish Catholic family. Emotions and affections run deep in our family, but much is usually left unsaid. My father is the perfect example of such unspoken affections.

Although he is an extremely warm and generous person, my dad remains quite stoic during emotional situations, and is rarely demonstrative. I have never seen him cry. However, he has informed me (and Brian) that he cried on the day I was born. He said he was so happy to finally have a baby girl after three boys, but he realized right then and there that one day he’d have to walk me down the aisle and give me away. (Did I mention that the Irish are also optimists?)

Knowing this anecdote about my father, Brian wanted to meet with him before running off with me.

Whereas my father is reserved, Brian usually wears his heart on his sleeve. There’s no guesswork when it comes to judging Brian’s mood. When he is nervous, it’s obvious. He gets sweaty, his hands shake, he becomes pale. He just looks and feels extremely uncomfortable.

Her Dad, The Fire Chief
So you can imagine how he must have felt when he popped the question to my dad, while my dad was at work in a New York City firehouse — and on his way to fight a fire.

You might be wondering, "Why in the world would Brian choose such a bad time to ask her father?" Let me explain. My father is a deputy chief in the New York City Fire Department. Since I'm in graduate school at Columbia University, and my dad’s firehouse is close by, Brian and I often visit him at work. Almost every time, we find my dad in his office, and in a relatively calm environment. We usually sit and talk without interruption.

Brian was counting on such a calm setting when he went there after work one Friday in July. In addition to his nerves, the extremely humid weather and crowded subway made Brian sweat profusely. By the time he got to the firehouse, he was hot and uncomfortable.

As Brian was walking up the long stairwell to my dad’s office, he could already hear the commotion inside. When he entered the room and saw men running around, he knew his timing was extremely bad. He entered my dad’s office to find him hurriedly putting on his uniform. There were several other firemen running in and out of the office, asking him questions and getting information about the fire they were about to put out.

Brian could see various firemen raising their eyebrows at the sight of him, probably wondering what this kid was doing, just standing there in the middle of this tumultuous situation. My dad saw Brian out of the corner of his eye and asked, "What is it Brian?" as he was rushing to leave. When Brian didn’t quickly respond (he was searching for his voice), my dad looked at him again and asked, "Brian, what do you need?" in a very stern manner.

Brian meekly replied, "I just have to ask you a question." Again, my father did not (could not) stop what he was doing, so he continued to gather his things together and said, "Sure, Brian, what is it?" And again, Brian weakly responded, "Oh, I just wanted to ask you something." At this point, my dad was getting pretty annoyed. He rolled his eyes, looked directly at Brian and snapped, "Yes Brian, I realize that you have a question, now what is it?"

Brian, who had envisioned sitting with my dad and having a heart-to-heart chat, did not know what to do. He couldn’t come back later. He had to get my dad’s permission then, since he wanted to propose to me the next day.

So, as other firemen were in the room running all about, and my dad was not even looking at Brian, he blurted out, "I’d like to marry your daughter." Brian said everything momentarily stopped.

My dad turned around, looked straight at Brian and said, "Are you serious? Is this a joke?" to which Brian grunted, "I’m serious. It’s not a joke." At that point, my dad had to sit down. (Don’t worry, he didn’t sit for long. Nobody dies in the fire.) Then my dad started to laugh.

He explained to Brian that he had been having a horribly busy day, and that this news was quite welcome. Since he couldn’t sit for long, he stood up, shook his hand and granted him permission. Brian was quite relieved. As he turned to go on his way, Brian overheard another fireman ask my dad, "Chief, do you want us to rough him up?" Brian’s heart stopped. Until he heard my dad reply "No, Brian’s okay."

That’s the story of how my very brave fiancé asked for my dad's permission to marry me.