Matt - Getting the Ring
I had been planning on getting married to Liz for a while. We'd
had long, serious talks about it, and had soberly decided that in
the interests of not unsettling our respective parents, we'd
"go out" for at least a year before making things all
official. I was okay with this idea. I'm pretty sure Liz was
okay with this idea. Her co-workers were a completely different
story. Out of a completely different book, in a different
library. And while I'm sure Liz didn't pass on even half of the
comments, it was fairly clear that even though we're not
teenagers anymore, peer pressure still is a force to be reckoned
with. So 'round about March, the idea of getting engaged was
being brought up with astounding regularity.
But wait! I had been planning for this, right? Yep. But boy do
I have bills. Student loans, car payments, car insurance, credit
cards . . . they add up. And even though I was having some of my
paycheck automagically routed to my savings account, it wasn't
building as quickly as I would have liked. How long have I heard
that weasely rule of thumb of three months salary for an
engagement ring? A real long time. Fortunately for me, Liz and
I had a conversation where she admitted to not really wanting a
diamond engagement ring, but was more partial to sapphires
or emeralds.
We started looking at rings. My plan was to get a feeling for
what Liz liked in ring styles, and then surreptitiously sneak to
a jewelry store and get the ring. What happened was Liz
and I would walk into a store and head for the rings. Liz would
point at a little panel of 4 or 5 rings and say, "Okay,
which of those rings do you think is the best?".
Let me pause here and explain something, because odds are you
don't know me. I have relatively no fashion sense. I can
recognize that the shirt Discover card sent me with the
radioactive green and lilac purple is suitable only as a
Hallowe'en costume, but past that I'm fairly well lost.
So here I am, looking at these rings, thinking, Well, they're
all made of gold . . . with blue stones.. Through sheer luck
and persistence I managed to get the right answer about one third
of the time. The other two-thirds of the time Liz would
patiently explain to me why the ring I pointed at, while not so
atrociously ugly that it scared small children (as some of them
were), just wasn't what she was looking for in an engagement
ring. My confidence slipped. I began to think about the
possibly apocryphal story of Richard Gere proposing to Cindy
Crawford with a ring made of aluminum foil. Goddamn movie star
uses a ring made of a couple pennies worth of aluminum, and here
I am trying to evaluate stone arrangement and band design.
So I had pretty well discarded the idea of going by myself to get
the ring, since it seemed like a disaster just waiting to happen.
The only problem was I couldn't think of who I could drag along
with me. The only advantage to dragging this out was that my
savings account was steadily growing, and it had reached a level
where I felt I could buy the ring and not send the account into
the single digits. Liz had stated that at this point, she really didn't mind
going with me to get the ring. I suspect her officemates again.
A good friend of mine was getting married, and we were going to
the mall to the stores where they were registered to get them a
gift. As Liz and I were going to sleep, my brain fuzzily
reminded me that there were a plethora of jewelry stores in the
mall, and tomorrow would be a good time to get the ring.
I love teasing Liz about the wedding, because although she tries
not to, sometimes she gets a little too caught up in the minutae
of the details and forgets that we're supposed to be having fun.
Despite the fact we weren't officially engaged yet, she'd been
doing some light planning, nothing too major, but enough to get
occasionally very absorbed in. Enough that I felt justified in
lightly teasing her about getting the ring.
I told her that I thought the next day would be a good day to get
her a present . . . maybe a ring.
She was very happy. And so was I.
So we went to the mall to get a ring. The first store we stop in
is Zales. A saleslady walks over to us and smiles, and suddenly
I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of turbo-charged
rocking chairs. We wander over to the sapphire rings. One
catches Liz's eye. She looks at it closely. "Do you like
it?" I ask. "Yes." she answers, staring at the
ring. YES!! I thought I was going to get out of this easy! I
haul out my wallet and start to hand the beaming saleslady my
credit card when Liz comes back to reality. Very smoothly she
catches my arm and tucks it around her. "Can you hold this
for us?" she asks. The saleslady's smile twinkles some more
as she assures us that's just fine.
There are four main jewelry stores in the mall, all at a
crossroads where two of the mall's "roads" meet, one on
each corner. So at least we didn't have to walk far. The first
store we go to after Zales has a ring Liz shows feeble interest
in, and the salesperson immediately starts trying to encourage
that spark into a conflagration of purchasing. It doesn't work.
We go through the third store in under 30 seconds, nothing of
interest. The fourth store, 20 seconds. Nada. Back to Zales.
The saleslady has been able to watch our rapid circuit of the
stores and is waiting for us when we arrive. I hand her my
credit card, she enters enough data about me into the store
computer to impress the federal government, and we leave.
Without the ring, which needs resizing.
But damn, did it feel good to have it over with! I felt free!
I had no idea what was coming...
Back to Liz and Matt's wedding page
See the ring!