I Bought My Own Damn Ring

This is not my ring. Photo by Alvin Mahmudov on Unsplash

If you’re still reading this, it won’t be as vapid or bitter as the title suggests. Or as female-empowered either. (It might be a little female-empowered.) I’m in a traditional, heterosexual, 22-year marriage. I inherited some rings. I like shiny things. I’m also highly susceptible to marketing campaigns that highlight romance with swooning background music and falling snow. The snow kills me. So, I like to think of the act of creating a new diamond ring for my 20th anniversary a few years ago as an act of rebellion; at least that’s what I’m telling myself and any of my Gender Communication students who will listen.

Over the years, I have slowly realized that the success of a long-term marriage is about managing expectations. (If you were to ever have dinner with my dad, this comes up. A lot. The managing of expectations.) There was a note stuck to the Duggar’s fridge on the show “19 kids and Counting” that read: “Expectations ruin relationships.” (Not that I’m highlighting them as the pinnacle of relational success. I’m staying neutral here.) But the idea has lingered with both my husband and me, usually when we throw it at each other, “Expectations ruin relationships!” When we’re feeling particularly oppressed by the other’s expectations.

One set of expectations in our relationship has centered on gifts, a category that has been fraught with a lot of anxiety (him) and disappointment (me). Here is where I blame insidious marketing campaigns that proclaim, “Every gift begins with Kay” or “Diamonds are Forever.” (They sure the hell are.) I like to think that my tastes are simple. Diamonds are very straightforward. And just look at how much that man in the ad loves his woman (yes, read possessive here) that he spent all that money to surprise her (note surprise) with exactly what she wanted. I’m here to admit, I bought the myth; that desires and preferences can be mysteriously extrapolated from one’s partner and then result in the perfect gift: diamonds.

(It’s my story. I’m sticking with my perfect gift.) This has done some real damage.