Yo, it’s Frodo over here and I’ve got a ring that needs getting rid of. But the MTA has canceled subway service to Mount Doom and I’m sure as hell not walking over there. I thought about giving it to Gollum, but he hasn’t been the same since he took a job writing tax code for the Federal government. (He was seen on a street corner, rubbing his hands and saying “Mine! Mine! Mine! over and over again and they had to have him.)
But seriously, as the separation slowly marches toward divorce, I’ve finally gotten my grubby mitts back on the engagement ring.
A few people seemed shocked that I’d get it back. “You asked for it back?” they’d say in shocked whisper, as if I just walked into the office during a meeting and pooped on the floor.
“It’s a gift,” this person said. “That you gave to her.”
I thought about that for a second. An engagement ring isn’t a gift. It’s a contract. If, upon, getting down on one knee and proposing, the woman says no, she doesn’t get the ring, right? Right. In fact, an engagement ring is a big honking token of conditional love. You’re getting this because I love you and because I think you love me enough to marry me. She no longer loved me enough to stay married to me. Contract is over. (Had I been acting in bad faith in the marriage, this could go the other way, but I always find it amusing how some women’s idea of fair-play changes dramatically when jewelry is involved.)
But fact was, I didn’t want the ring. Basically, I’d wanted to avoid dealing with it. I’d keep the entire joint savings account, she’d keep the ring. Would have been a fair trade. But she wanted the cash — not that I can blame her. Because what was she going to do with the ring? Wear it as a reminder of failure? Have that diamond staring at her with an accusatory look in its shiny eye?
Of course now that I do have it back I’ve got figure out what to do with it. One complicating factor is that I just like the ring a lot. It doesn’t look like your run-of-the-mill engagement ring. It looks almost like an antique. It was made by an artist named Jessica Fields and bought at Clay Pot in Park Slope. We’d seen one of her bubble rings topped with a heart-shaped sapphire or ruby or something and wondered allowed if that could be done with a diamond in an emerald setting. It could. So I did. I think it was the first one she’d done at that point.
And now I see one like it on her website. It’s a better photo than mine above, but you’ll notice the diamond is smaller. (The folks at Clay Pot had cautioned against going up to 1 carat as the ring is so small and delicate. I think our version came out ok):
Still it’s a fairly uncommon piece. And there’s pretty much no way I’ll get back the money I paid for it (which I just figured out was more than my first two vehicles combined). So why not keep it, give it to a future daughter, a cousin, someone?
Why? Because it’s been called an engagement ring! And thus it ever shall be as long as it circles around in my orbit. And not just an engagement ring, an engagement ring from a failed marriage. Which carries all sorts of bad juju.
I suppose I could lie. “Uncle Kenny, where did that ring come from?”
“Pirating, matey. Arrrrrgggggghhh, yer Uncle Kenny is a pirate. Now fetch me some grog.”
So, I’ll probably sell it. Hey, it’s new to you, right? So if you haven an anniversary or a lady friend you’re trying to impress and a big sack of cash, you know where to find me. Details: Handcrafted custom-made 18K yellow gold with full-cut round diamonds in bubbles and emerald-cut center diamond. Weight of side diamonds=.32 cts. Center diamond: .96 ct emerald-cut of Canadian origin. Graded GVS1. With accompanying GIA certificate. Size 4. So tiny fingers only.
Or maybe I’ll use it as a toe ring. I’ve always wanted one of those.