I refused David Letterman's proposal of marriage for obvious

The words of Teri Garr, “I refused David Letterman’s proposal of marriage for obvious reasons, but thanks for asking,” sparkle with wit and strength, yet beneath their humor lies the quiet dignity of a woman who knows her worth. Her tone is playful, but her message is eternal — that love, like all things sacred, must be entered with clarity and freedom, not with hesitation or compromise. In this brief remark, Garr delivers both a jest and a lesson: that the ability to say no — gracefully, confidently, and without bitterness — is one of the purest acts of self-respect.

To understand the heart of this quote, one must know Teri Garr herself — a woman of intelligence, independence, and humor. An acclaimed actress of the 1970s and 1980s, she worked with legendary figures in film and television, including David Letterman, the famous late-night host with whom she shared a long and teasing friendship. Their on-screen chemistry often led audiences to speculate about romance. Garr’s quip, delivered with her characteristic mix of irony and warmth, was a way of both disarming that curiosity and asserting her independence. Beneath her laughter is the voice of a woman who, though flattered by attention, would not let affection cloud her sense of self. She understood what many forget — that marriage, for all its beauty, is not a prize to be claimed, but a bond that must be chosen freely and wisely.

The ancients understood the power of refusal as deeply as the power of acceptance. In their myths, there were countless tales of women who knew when to say no — of queens, priestesses, and goddesses who refused to bind themselves to men unworthy of their spirit. The story of Atalanta, for instance, speaks of a maiden who challenged her suitors to a race, vowing to marry only the one who could outrun her. She valued her freedom so fiercely that none dared take it lightly. Teri Garr’s modern humor echoes that same spirit — that a woman’s worth is not measured by whom she weds, but by her ability to guard her heart with discernment. Her “obvious reasons,” though unspoken, remind us that what is obvious to the wise needs no explanation: she knew herself, and she knew what she wanted.

There is also a deeper wisdom in the humor of her response. Laughter, in the mouths of the brave, has always been a weapon against misunderstanding. Rather than scorn or defensiveness, Garr uses wit — turning potential gossip into grace, and awkwardness into control. In doing so, she teaches the art of boundaries with charm. The ancients would have admired this; the philosopher Epicurus once said that happiness lies in moderation and peace of mind, and she achieves both through levity. Her humor disarms the world’s expectations while quietly affirming her own authority over her life.

In a broader sense, her words are a testament to the sacred art of self-knowledge. Many rush into unions — romantic, professional, or otherwise — not from love, but from fear of loneliness, or from the longing to fulfill others’ expectations. Garr’s playful refusal reminds us that one must first be at peace within before joining their life to another’s. As the poet Rumi wrote, “The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not realizing that lovers are meeting inside themselves.” To refuse that which is not aligned with one’s truth is not arrogance — it is wisdom born of inner clarity.

And yet, there is kindness in her tone. She ends with, “but thanks for asking” — a phrase that turns rejection into courtesy. This small act of grace transforms what could have been harsh into something almost affectionate. It is the mark of one who can stand firm without cruelty, who can assert herself without wounding another. In this, her humor becomes a lesson in compassion — that strength and softness need not be opposites, but can live harmoniously in the same soul.

Let this, then, be the lesson for those who hear her words: know your worth, and do not fear to say no. Whether in love, in work, or in friendship, let your choices be made from truth, not from pressure. Learn to refuse with grace, to guard your peace without pride. For the heart that knows when to close one door preserves the strength to open another. The ancients taught that wisdom is not only in what we pursue, but in what we decline. And so, Teri Garr — with her wit and her courage — stands among those timeless voices reminding us that dignity and laughter are the twin guardians of the soul.

Thus, her remark, light as it may seem, carries the depth of eternal teaching: that a woman’s choice is her power, and her humor, her shield. To say “no” is not to reject love, but to honor its sacredness. And when such refusal is wrapped in laughter, it becomes not a wall, but a song — the song of freedom, sung by one who has learned that the most beautiful love of all begins with the love of oneself.