So I am still in June mode, still thinking about silly traditions while I do things other than write new creative blogs. Other things like gardening. These latest musings come from my unpublished memoir, Cramps and other Rants from a Crazy Angry Bitch, which is a bucket load of stories and rants that I am mining hoping to find some entertaining content to share. This one is about a ring… or the lack of one.
The wedding date was set, the location selected, the dress was started (actually almost finished) and I was taking care of details because that is what I do while laying in bed at night.
“We need a fridge,” I said to The Doc. He was half asleep; and I, as usual, was starting a new conversation. The Doc is a man who falls asleep easy and anywhere.
“I don’t need a diamond ring. I’ve never needed a diamond ring. We need a fridge.”
“Ok. Are you sure?”
Then The Doc rolled over and went to sleep. No other questions required. No mention of whether he even considered purchasing a ring, but he was, and still, is a quiet man so I don’t always know what’s on his mind. Not that it mattered at that moment. I had made my point.
Off we went on a shopping trip the following weekend looking for an engagement fridge to replace our circa 1950’s refrigerator with a cotton-candy pink interior and the smallest little freezer compartment imaginable. This particular refrigerator was also having some difficulty keeping things cold and causing me a lot of worry and stress. The engagement fridge we found was on sale and almond colored. You remember almond appliances–lots of us had them and loved them. We were more than happy with our choice. How could we not be, it was new, it was working and it had a nice size freezer. I was absolutely ecstatic. Buying a new refrigerator was the right decision.
You would, or at least I would, think that this would have been the end of any diamond ring discussions. How wrong I was. Just about every female I knew wanted to see the ring. Eyes would drop down to my finger and hands would literally grab mine just to have a look; only to see a short, very empty finger with no notable attributes but a wrinkly knuckle to show for its existence. They were not interested in the practicalities of needing a refrigerator no matter how charming the story. They were only interested in the ring, more specifically they were actually interested in the size of the diamond in my nonexistent ring. I had a shiny new fridge sitting in my kitchen that was larger than any diamond they had ever seen and probably not as expensive, but all that did was confirm my oddness.
The level of importance placed on the ring was then, and still is now something that I just can’t comprehend. These days it has become extreme. There are promise diamond rings, engagement diamond rings, anniversary diamond rings and probably others that I don’t know about because I rarely go into jewelry stores. I recently saw a women wearing a promise diamond that seemed very large, actually huge in my opinion. Not as big as my fridge but hell, it was just a promise. Why does this seem odd to me while I, apparently, seem to be odd to all of them?
Thanks you for reading. And thanks Margie for sharing with me your ring story that inspired me to share my ring story.