Engagements & Proposals
Little did I know that the search for the engagment ring is your first full blown encounter with the Wedding Industrial Complex. The conversation goes a little like this: " You are getting married! Fantastic! There are so many things you must BUY BUY BUY! We don't care if you want these things or not! They are traditional! They are vital to your future happyness! Everyone Else is doing it! You don't want to look POOR do you?"
We started off at your run of the mill jewelers, and I'd tell them what size stone I was looking for and they would look disappointed, then giggle a little (who was I to know what I wanted, after all), then say they had the perfect thing. Then out would come a stone that would feed a family for a year. I have little hands. These rings looked crazy on me. And I didn't like the way the jewelers were looking at us. It creeped me out. They seemed to be implying that David would only be a Real Man if he ponied up three months salary on the ring. I didn't want to be the all American princess Barbie bride. I felt sort of panicked. Suddenly I didn't even want to be engaged anymore. Continue reading In which the WIC makes it’s first grab at my soul. And wallet.
We had a engagement/ joint birthday party last night, with a stellar group of friends. It happened to be the first really warm day of spring, which was it’s own present, and it was a tremendously joyous evening. Yay!
My engagement ring and me. We are having something of a tough time of it. David and I found my engagement ring in a antique store (you can read all about the search here), and the ring and I fell in love immediately. It was small and simple, and looked just right on my small hand. It dates from the 1920's, and is subtly art deco. It's unique, it has soul, and it fit perfectly on my hand without having to be sized. When I put it on, the store owner looked at the ring, and looked at me, and said, "Oh, that's your ring." And it was.
But we're having a little bit of a hard time out in the real world together. My ring is somewhat small, and it's simple. Meaning that it's absolutely not what is popular at the moment. Everyone around me seems to be competing in some sort of diamond Olympics. Rings as big as your knuckle! Rings that would feed a third world country for a year! Rings you can not possibly do the dishes in! And subtlety, I get reminded all the time that my ring is little. People look at my ring, and then look slightly disappointed. "It's from the 1920's!" I always rush to say, "It's vintage!" Friends tell me that they love my ring. It's so classy, and tasteful. They want one just like it, they say, but much bigger. "Oh." I say "I have small hands. I wanted one just this size."
But I've noticed that when I'm doing yoga, or at the camera obscura, or at the beach, my ring looks just right. It sparkles up at me and says "Here we are, and we're just right together." Hopefully soon I'll learn to tune out all the other nonsense.
Continue reading My Ring & Me
Continue reading Indie Engagment Rings
Continue reading A Long Engagment
Next up, I needed a ring. When we were younger and broker and I'd suggest engagement, he always told me he'd get me a cracker jack ring. So naturally, I had expected David to propose to me with a silly fake ring. Turns out, he had planned to propose with a fake ring, but changed his mind because he was afraid I might be offended. So, my mission was clear. Find the world's silliest fake ring for the proposal. I think you'll agree that I did a good job:
Continue reading Our Engagement-aversary