The hard part is done. You’ve managed to find someone who can stand your presence on a regular basis. Time to pop the question — but how? Do you kick it old-school, dropping low on bended knee, or do you get creative — skywriting, “will you marry me?” on the Orioles’ new Jumbotron? An engagement ring at the bottom of her champagne glass? Is there a full-proof method guaranteed to get results?

DAN: Proposing is akin to posing a query in a court of law: Never ask a question that you don’t already know the answer to, i.e. you propose when you know she’s going to say yes (or no if your strategy is to extricate yourself from the relationship — when a woman says no to a marriage proposal, that’s pretty much the dating version of the last rites.

How you propose is irrelevant in terms of affecting the answer; it’s all about making the moment itself memorable, so you want to be daring and creative. So I decided to contact one of the most daring wordsmiths and creative writers I know, Lenore Skenazy of The New York Sun, to give us her opinion. Lenore?

LENORE: If the idea is to be fun and creative, can we start by agreeing that there is nothing creative — anymore — about the skywriting or the Jumbotron? Nor the plan that gives you all the fun of proposing a life together while possibly choking your beloved to death at the same, ironic moment: the ring at the bottom of glass?

I’ll grant you: It is hard to come up with a new way of pleading with someone to keep you company from now through eternity (if you believe the DeBeers ads — which you shouldn’t. They’re just trying to sell you a commodity that they would have you believe represents love, when all it really represents is conformity). But anyway, yes it’s hard to be utterly ingenious when you’re doing what so many others have done before you. So I’d aim for something a little less showy and a little more personal.

For instance, if your beloved is a Charlie Brown fan, put your message in a peanut. Or have him kick a football and on the side of it write, “I will never pull this out from under you at the last minute. Or give her a security blanket with your name on it. After all, you’re volunteering for the job of comforting this person for the rest of your life.

Another daring idea is not to be hokey at all. Your proposal does not have to elicit “aww”s from the audience. Discuss it like adults in love. After all, the guy who put a $12,000 ring in a helium balloon to propose to his the other day accidentally let go of the balloon and off it went. “Now she isn’t speaking to me.” There’s a lesson in there somewhere. (And a ring somewhere, too.)

JOAN: This discussion reminds me of the scene in “Moonstruck” when Johnny Cammareri (Danny Aiello) proposes to the widowed Loretta Castorini (Cher) in a restaurant without kneeling, without a ring, without passion and without imagination — which is symbolic of how their marriage would have been. Thank God she marries his brother in the end.

Now how would I want to receive a proposal? As long as I’m in love with the guy, it doesn’t need to be extravagant — just meaningful, thoughtful, creative and a little sentimental. Like going to our first bed and breakfast or favorite beach. Or he could write a sonnet, make my favorite foods (all chocolate, of course), or bring me a dog with a ring around his collar from the humane society.

DAN: Me, I’d propose at the Renaissance Festival. We’d be watching the men-at-arms cross swords, when I’d excuse myself on the pretense of getting a steak-on-a-stake. Having made arrangements in advance, I’d slip away to where the knights gather, put on my armor, get aboard my horse and ride out on to the field, my face covered by my mask. The knight picks a lady faire from the audience by bestowing upon her a silk kerchief from the end of his lance — which I would do. With all the choreography mapped out, I’d then kick my opponent’s metallic butt, and when it came time for my lady to honor my victory, she’d lift my visor (surprise) — and I’d bestow the ring, all to thunderous applause (and hopefully local TV coverage). How’s that?

Dan Collins is a terminally single 40-something writer and local PR maven. Joan Allen is a noted matchmaker extraordinaire and author of “Celebrating Single and Getting Love Right: From Stalemate to Soulmate.”