So. We went with unconventional engagement rings, which I'm really really pleased with for a few reasons. One, because they're goddamn awesome. Two, because we picked something out together that was fun, and I think it's nice to find fun in relationships, right? (Stay tuned for my new column on Cosmo called Totally Original Things No One Has Ever Said About Love Before.)
But three, and three should maybe be more like THREE, because it's the biggie, engagement rings are a fucking intense topic and we navigated them well, I think. Why intense, you ask? Well, I've previously noted my thoughts on rings themselves, asking for permission, and proposals in general. If you don't wanna go read through those, the general gist is 'if you're doing it because you want it and not because you're supposed to, then you do you ...' BUT, with a strong edge of 'are you suuuuuure you want it because you want it and not because the Wedding Industrial Complex told you to want it?'
I'm really irritating sometimes when I'm sure I'm right.
So, now, Crockett and I are engaged. Betrothed, even. And, you guys, I wanted a shiny diamond. I feel like any writing I do about feminism lately has been about how it's hard, and this didn't make it any easier. I was prepared for a non-traditional engagement, and then as soon as we started talking about it I was prepared for something shiny and pretty. I was found a shop where I loved basically everything, and he and I paged through it and looked at shapes and stuff. (Grey diamonds. Rose gold. How do these things get into your head when they're getting popular but you don't know they're getting popular?) And it was stressing him out, trying to maintain a level of surprise while picking something I'd wear forever, and it was stressing me out, because ... well, see the links above. I don't actually believe that decision-by-dude acceptance-by-chick diamonds-are-forever marking-the-bride proposal tradition thing.
So, we picked rings out together. He's wearing one too. My feminist analyst brain is comfortably relaxed with the whole thing, and our rings have Edith Pilaf lyrics and motherfucking skulls on them.
And the shiny diamonds I have pinned on the secret 'that big party' board on my pinterest? Of course I want them just a little. They're beautiful. But not as beautiful as the rings we have.
I'm guessing this won't be the first time feminist Emma and likes-pretty-things-and-being-a-princess Emma have this problem during this whole 'getting married' process.