Conceited

Darren: If I didn’t know what a pathetic mess you were on the inside, I think I’d really dislike you.

Ring Ring

Here’s what happens these days:

You meet someone. You go on a few awkward dates. You sleep together. At one point, you decide to make this official. You begin to ignore your friends. You meet parents. You decide to move in to split the rent. You start thinking about the future. You go ring shopping.

Ring shopping?

I never thought of myself as a romantic, but perhaps I’ve watched too many movies. I think, and correct me if I’m wrong, a proposal should be in order. I like to think that there is a great story. You know, not the old ring in the dessert routine, or a drop down to one knee on the jumbo-tron at the Mets game. But something more surprising, more emotionally sweeping than checking out the latest batch of cushion-cuts at Zales.

When did this happen? Most women tell me they have to wear that ring forever, and their boyfriend wants it to be perfect. They want to be in love with that shiny piece of precious metal and gemstone as much as they are with their husband-to-be. And what if they didn’t shop? What if he spends two or five or twenty thousand dollars on an ugly ring? They shudder. No, it’s better to pick it out together. She can point under the glass and he can start calculating the debt.

It’s old fashioned of me to suggest that perhaps she should trust the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with to pick out a simple ring she would like. And does it have to be the picture of diamond perfection? I myself refuse to ever look at diamond rings. It does nothing but build expectations of the most inconsequential and meaningless part of the relationship process. It is keeping up the fingers of the Joneses. It is everything a relationship should not be built on.

When the time comes for a man to make the scariest and most dangerous decision of his life, willfully committing to me forever, I’d prefer the most genuine expression of whatever snapped in his brain to cause this betrayal of male freedom. And well, a ring would be nice, too. But no pressure.