Almost 14 years ago, my partner surprised me in the most delightful way by kneeling down and presenting a box that held the most exquisite diamond ring I had ever laid eyes on. Naturally, I exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” while bouncing around like a child.
I was utterly in love with him; the thought of marrying him filled me with joy — and that sentiment remains. However, that stunning diamond ring? It’s been sitting in a jewelry cleaner jar somewhere in my bedroom for the past year or so. Frankly, I haven’t bothered to check on it because, to be honest, I don’t care much about my engagement ring anymore.
There was a time when the idea of not wearing that ring seemed unfathomable. For years, I wore it constantly. I fondly remember the secret trips to the jewelry store my husband, Mark, made before proposing, how he carefully selected that perfect ring by picking up on my subtle hints and understanding my style. Those were carefree days before we had mortgages, children, and health challenges.
Lately, though, I’ve been contemplating selling that piece of jewelry. Let me clarify: Mark and I are blissfully married. In fact, the security of our relationship may be why I’m considering parting with the ring that symbolizes the start of our journey together. The truth is, that ring no longer represents who I am or what we’ve become as a couple.
I’ve never placed much importance on rings as symbols of commitment. Mark hasn’t worn his wedding band since about a month after our nuptials, and honestly, it doesn’t bother me at all. He dislikes jewelry, so asking him to wear something that makes him uncomfortable seems unreasonable.
Additionally, the ring feels extravagant and wasteful. It doesn’t fit well due to hormonal changes, and I find it distasteful given the diamond industry’s troubling history. While the control of the De Beers cartel has lessened, and diamonds can be certified conflict-free through the Kimberly Process, my concerns about the industry’s legitimacy remain.
More importantly, the person I was back then has evolved. I now prioritize generosity over material luxuries. I embrace minimalism and value experiences over possessions. When I think about the number of people who could be fed with the money tied up in that ring, I feel compelled to sell it immediately.
Recently, Mark and I discussed our wedding rings. His has long been misplaced (perhaps intentionally?), and we joked about my own ring gathering dust. It seems a bit silly to pay for insurance on a ring I hardly wear. “Why don’t we just sell it?” I asked. “Think of all the good we could do with that money. We could donate to the ACLU or assist a refugee family in resettling…”
“It’s your call,” Mark replied. “But I’m totally supportive of selling it. We could find something affordable and practical that better represents who we are today.”
That sounds appealing, yet I find myself hesitating. Is the sentimental value worth something? Would I regret parting with a symbol of our past? Would I miss wearing that beautiful piece of jewelry?
Despite my lack of attachment to rings as symbols of marital bliss, Mark and I are secure and happy in our relationship. He shows his commitment through meaningful actions that far surpass a metal band on a finger. Our priorities have shifted, leaning more toward helping others than collecting trinkets. My engagement ring no longer encapsulates my identity, and I feel more aligned with my simple wedding band, which cost just a few hundred dollars.
Still, I can’t ignore a lingering sense of nostalgia, a childlike romanticism intertwined with a hint of selfishness. My engagement ring is my only tangible reminder of how Mark proposed — no photos, videos, or other keepsakes exist from that moment. It serves as a reminder of the early romance we shared when our future felt boundless. Now that life is filled with children, jobs, and chaos, that ring has become a personal fairy tale.
Yet, as it currently sits at the bottom of a cleaning jar, perhaps my fairy tale has shifted from one of romance to one of shared adventures and future aspirations. I remain undecided about what to do with my engagement ring, but one thing is certain: whether I keep it or not, Mark and I reaffirm our commitment to each other every single day, and that bond is far more enduring than any diamond.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the author’s journey from wearing an engagement ring to contemplating its sale, emphasizing the evolution of personal values and the meaning of commitment in a marriage. It highlights the shift from valuing material possessions to prioritizing generosity and shared experiences, illustrating a modern take on love and marriage.