This week for The Frisky I wrote my Hitched wedding column about getting engaged without a ring. Except now I am engaged with a ring. An expensive one. An excerpt:
There was just something about wearing proof of our engagement that was important to me. My post-Jim Beam hangover was pretty real, but I wanted something that I could really keep with me as a reminder of that awesome night (and terrible, horrible next morning.) I wanted a ring the way I wanted a wedding — I needed something that said to the people I care about, to the people I want to have the love and support of, something that said, “Did you guys just hear that?”
So now this big diamond sits on my hand, and it kind of looks at me, and I am not totally sure it is not giving me the stink-eye. Does that sound terribly ungrateful? Maybe I’m an asshole, I think, because Lord have mercy, I am walking around with cash money on my hand! Me, the woman who stops by H&M or Forever 21 every year or so to buy new, cheap-ass earrings because I cannot be trusted with nice things.
Read the rest here.