Nearly 14 years ago, my partner surprised me by going down on one knee and presenting a stunning diamond ring that took my breath away. Naturally, I responded with an enthusiastic “Yes! Yes! Yes!” while bouncing around like a giddy child. I was completely in love with this man and thrilled at the thought of spending my life with him—and I still feel that way today.
However, that beautiful diamond ring? It’s been tucked away in a jar of jewelry cleaner in my bedroom for the past year—at least. Honestly, I haven’t checked lately because I’ve realized that I don’t really care about my engagement ring anymore.
In those early days, it was hard to imagine a time when I wouldn’t wear it, and for many years, it was a constant presence on my finger. I love reminiscing about the secret trips my husband made to the jewelry store before proposing, how he carefully picked out the perfect ring based on subtle hints and my style. It reminds me of the carefree young couple we were before life’s complexities—like bills, children, and health issues—took center stage.
Lately, I’ve even considered selling that shiny piece of metal and stone. To be clear, my partner and I are incredibly happy together. Maybe it’s this strong foundation that gives me the courage to part with the ring that initiated our marital adventure. It no longer embodies who I am or what our relationship represents today.
I’ve never been one to hold rings in high regard as symbols of commitment. My husband hasn’t worn his wedding band since shortly after our nuptials, and I genuinely don’t mind—he dislikes jewelry in general. Forcing him to wear something that brings discomfort seems pointless and unfair.
Moreover, that ring feels like a waste of resources. It doesn’t always fit due to hormonal changes, and it seems extravagant, especially considering the diamond industry’s troubling history. While the De Beers cartel’s grip has loosened and conflict-free diamonds are now certified through the Kimberly Process, my reservations about the diamond industry and its excessiveness linger.
More importantly, I’ve changed. I now prioritize generosity over luxury and lean toward minimalism, valuing experiences over material possessions. When I think of all the people who could benefit from that ring, I feel compelled to sell it immediately.
Recently, my partner and I chatted about our wedding bands. He joked about how he’s “lost” his, and I brought up the idea of selling mine. Given that we pay insurance premiums on a ring I don’t wear, it seems rather absurd to keep it. “Why not sell it?” I suggested. “We could do so much good with that money—like donate to the ACLU or help a refugee family.”
My husband replied, “It’s your call, but I’m all for selling it. We could find something affordable and practical that reflects who we are today.” I agreed, and while it sounds fantastic, I still wonder if selling it would feel as fulfilling as it sounds. Does sentimental value hold weight? Would I regret parting with something that symbolizes our past? Would I miss wearing that gorgeous piece?
As I mentioned, I don’t see rings as essential markers of marital happiness. Despite my husband not wearing his for years, we are content, confident, and connected in our marriage. He demonstrates his commitment to our family in ways that far exceed a ring on a finger. Our priorities have shifted, and we now focus on helping others rather than accumulating trinkets. My engagement ring no longer resonates with who I am, and I feel much more at home with my simple wedding band, which cost just a few hundred dollars.
Yet, I’d be lying if I said there isn’t an emotional tug-of-war happening. My engagement ring is the only physical reminder of my husband’s proposal—there are no photos or other keepsakes from that moment. It encapsulates the early romance of our relationship when our future felt limitless. As life has unfolded into a whirlwind of children, careers, and everyday chaos, that ring has become my personal fairy tale.
But given that it’s currently languishing at the bottom of a cleaning solution jar, perhaps my fairy tale has shifted from one of romance and jewels to a narrative of adventure and shared aspirations for the future.
I remain undecided on what to do with my diamond engagement ring, but one thing is certain: whether I wear a ring or not, my husband and I affirm our love and commitment to each other every single day, and that bond is stronger than any diamond.
For more insights into family and relationship dynamics, check out this post on Cervical Insemination. Additionally, if you’re interested in at-home insemination options, visit Make a Mom for quality products. For further reading on fertility and home insemination, Science Daily offers excellent resources.
In summary, my relationship with my engagement ring has evolved over time. While it symbolizes a cherished memory, it no longer defines my identity or our marriage. We prioritize love and support for each other and the world around us over material possessions.