Why I Gave Myself an Engagement Ring

Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands

“Come with me,” my boyfriend said, suddenly grabbing my hand. “I want you to see something.”

I was confused for a moment as he pulled me through the door of a fancy jewelry shop in the middle of our downtown stroll. What on earth was on his mind?

Suddenly, everything slowed down. A fancy jewelry shop. Oh my god…

We had been together for over three years, living together for the last third of that time. We’d had that awkward conversation months before about where our relationship was going. I’d been shocked to find that moving in together had stopped my boyfriend cold. He’d told me he suddenly didn’t want to get married anymore. Maybe someday in the future but definitely not now.

Was this the future? Was he going to ask me to pick out an engagement ring?

I was so shocked, my pace began slowing and he looked back at me with a smile, tugging at my hand to try to hurry me along.

I walked a bit faster as we approached the counter, but I wasn’t at all present. Nor the slightest bit excited.

Of course I wanted to get married. But this just didn’t feel right.

Lee knew that I didn’t like the typical engagement ring. I don’t really like wearing rings, in general, and the last thing I want on my finger is a fancy diamond. My hands are always in dishwater, garden soil, or piles of yarn and I just don’t have any interest in some fancy bauble on my finger.

We’d talked about this before. He knew that my dream engagement ring would be a little moonstone on a thin, hammered band. Something that a Viking sorceress might wear that wouldn’t impede her on the battle field or while performing complicated spellwork. And it wouldn’t cost more than $75 because I’d much rather spend thousands of dollars on a trip to Paris than a diamond ring.

No, something was definitely not right…

When we reached the counter, Lee squeezed my hand. The woman behind the counter asked what we were looking for, giving me a quick look — she, too, expected to pull out the diamonds.

“Do you carry those indestructible rings here? You know the ones that could get stuck in machinery and would protect your finger from getting crushed?” Lee asked.

“Oh,” she said, recovering from her surprise rather quickly. “You mean tungsten? I can show you a few.”

Lee nodded and turned to me as the woman reached into the glass display case, pulling a tray of rings out.

“I read that these are so strong they can’t be cut off. I always wanted one of these and I couldn’t wait to show you.”

“Yeah,” I said, feigning excitement.

I wasn’t sad that there was no diamond in my future…but I felt heartbroken that he still wasn’t thinking about marriage, and indeed, was so out of touch with my feelings on the matter that he didn’t even realize how it might affect me to pull me into a jewelry shop when marriage was absolutely not on his mind but absolutely was on mine.

As the years passed, I watched almost every single one of my friends share a “she said yes” engagement ring photo on social media.

That definitely did not seem to be in my future. Year after year, there was no ring. No proposal. No hint of an engagement.

One day, Lee said, “I’m not sure I even believe in marriage anymore.”

It broke my heart, but I did my best to accept that we might never be anything more than partners who lived together. At the time, I thought that was enough.

Six years in, as our relationship was in tatters, a breakup inevitable (though I didn’t know it then), Lee approached me as I was unloading groceries from the car.

“Yael,” he said solemnly. “I have a question for you.”

He stared at me with a somber face, and I noticed he had a velvet jewelry box in his hand.

My heart leapt, just as it had at the jewelry store. Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god. Was this finally happening?

And again, just like at the jewelry store, I was immediately filled with a strange feeling. Something was off. Something was wrong.

By that point, we hardly spent time together. We weren’t getting along. He had become angry and bitter. I had become depressed and withdrawn. This wasn’t a time for engagements — couples therapy might have been a more reasonable next step.

Further, I was unloading groceries from the car. Who would propose to someone who was carrying bags full of rice and cheese? And in the garage, of all places?

Nevertheless, I put the bags back in the car and took the box from him, slowly. Something inside me was screaming now. I could feel that something awful was about to happen.

I opened the box with trembling fingers. It was empty.

Lee doubled over, laughing hysterically. He laughed so hard, he fell to his knees.

All I could do was stare at him. I don’t think I was even in my body at that moment.

“I just wanted to see your face when you thought I was going to propose to you,” he wheezed, through his laughter. “I can’t believe you fell for that!” With that, he surrendered to another fit of laughter.

I picked up the bags of groceries and took them inside without a word.

I always wanted someone to propose to me. Who doesn’t?

Most of my friends have been proposed to by at least three different people. It seems like a very common occurrence when people fall in love.

I wouldn’t know. I have never been proposed to. I am, in fact, not sure that I’ve ever been with a man who loved or respected me, let alone wanted to marry me.

But wow, I would love to know what it feels like to have someone ask you to spend the rest of your lives together. Is there anything else that feels so good? To be wanted that much?

I literally cannot imagine.

Interestingly, I became certain I would find out in middle age. I realize what an odd thing that is to say considering the fact that by the time I reached that point in my life, I no longer wanted to get married. I wasn’t actively against it…I simply grew out the need for marriage. It was too late to have children, so I didn’t feel any need for legal contracts around a future partnership.

Yet I felt certain that I would meet someone who would understand my history and the specific pain and disappointment I’ve experienced. Someone who would want to build a committed, long-term relationship with me who might realize that it would make me really happy to receive a “proposal” — not for marriage, but perhaps for a partnership for the foreseeable future.

And yes, I dreamed that the proposition would be made with a little moonstone on a hammered band.

It turns out that I was wrong about this. My forties have almost ended and let’s just say that dating in middle age is as brutal as it was in college.

There’s no chance there will be a proposal considering how fast everyone is moving to get to the next bed.

But I finally realized this year that I don’t need to wait another second for this experience that I’ve always wanted.

I can give myself an engagement ring.

This decision was a long time in the making. I started looking at rings in early 2022. Even though every ring I considered was less than $50, I still wanted to choose the one that I thought was the most beautiful and the one that would be the right style for me.

I finally settled on a little moonstone with a rose gold hammered band. I even got a second stackable band to go with it, just so I could change up its look whenever I wanted.

I wrapped it up and put it under my Christmas tree and on the night of the winter solstice, when my house was lit by nothing but candlelight and the light from the tree, I went through the ritual.

I’d rather not share what I did or the words I spoke — it’s too personal.

By the end of it, when I put the ring on my finger, I finally felt what I’d always wanted to feel: loved, wanted, and cherished. And like I could count on that until the day I died.

And in this case, unlike with marriage (at least 50% of the time), that’s something I can count on.

In the days after my engagement ceremony, I realized something: I wanted to follow through with the entire ritual. That’s right. I want to have a wedding ceremony.

I thought all I needed and wanted was the knowledge that someone (even myself) wanted to stand by me through the ups and downs of life. But the proposal is just the proposal! The deal isn’t sealed until the wedding.

In an instant, I realized that I would need to spend the next several months planning my wedding. I already knew I would want to make my own wedding dress (something simple that I can wear again and again) and a special cake.

I think I would prefer to have the ceremony by myself, but I might decide to have a little party at some point with a few special people.

If you’re a Sex and the City fan then you know that self-engagement isn’t new. Carrie Bradshaw might not have been the first, but her 2003 wedding registry for her marriage to herself gave all the single Gen X women of the world a moment of joy that many of us still carry with us.

And in the years following the pandemic, when so many of us single women had to endure these scary times completely alone, “sologamy” and self-weddings are becoming such a trend that even the wedding industry is starting to offer packages to solo brides.

And why the hell not? Some of us have waited such a long time to experience the joys and challenges of true partnership. Some of us have endured so much cruelty and hardship along the way. Some of us even had boyfriends who thought so little of our feelings that they found it amusing to turn our desire for marriage into a joke.

Enough, already. I love myself too much for this shit. I don’t have one ounce of tolerance left for all this nonsense or one more second of my life to waste on waiting for someone else to want me.

I want me.

So I said yes.

© Yael Wolfe 2023

Yael Wolfe is a writer, photographer, and creator of Howl. You can find more of her work at yaelwolfe.com.

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