Engagement Ring

When I proposed to +Annette I gave her my mother's engagement ring; mum gave it to me some years after my parents' divorce. By some lucky coincidence, it was the right size, and also featured Annette's birthstone.

At the time, I wasn't sure what the procedure was for the man. Do I get a ring? How is it organised? Presumably Annette couldn't have one waiting for me, since she didn't know when I was going to propose. We went through Annette's jewellery boxes and found one that fit my left ring-finger - a seven band rolling ring, which for the next few months became a comfortable thing for me to idly toy with, and which my finger missed when it was off.

When I started showing the ring to people, I met with a lot of confusion. They most often seemed to think it might be a wedding ring, but the suddenness kind of threw them especially as Annette and I were still living at opposite ends of the state.

Apparently, I learned, men generally don't get engagement rings. But that doesn't sit right with me; it turns the woman's ring into a symbol of ownership, saying "hands off, she's been claimed by someone else" while the man continues to go as he will, with no outward sign of commitment. Thinking about it, the same could also be said of the Mr/Mrs/Miss prefixes, which is a good reason to strengthen my support of Ms, and to embrace Annette's suggestion that we both change our last names to something completely different once we're married.

It was very important to Annette that I receive a proper ring, not just a jewellery-box stand-in. It arrived this morning; yellow gold with diamonds flanking an emerald, my birthstone. It's a touch large, but we can always get it resized.

This ring connects me with Annette, our rings complementing each other as we complement each other. Both rings are symbols of our mutual adoration and commitment, our equality and respect.