There are things I remember well as though they just happened. There are things I forget- my age, my husband’s birthday, my wedding anniversary. To anyone who asks my age, I tell them that I honestly lie. I am being honest in lying about it. My husband’s birthday is difficult to remember because I am not his mom. I got married on a first Saturday of April in 1998.
It would be my anniversary soon, and my husband told me that it would be our 12th year of being married. I get the date wrong all the time but I remember that I got married late in my life so it was important to me that I get to wear an anniversary ring on the second year of being married. So my husband, who, according to my son I take advantage of, asked our jeweler to make a modest right hand “anniversary diamond ring” for me 11 years ago. The jeweler warned my husband that just from knowing me for a little while, that I would not like this dainty 5-stone ring. When my husband said, “You know, we can have it reset if you like,” I took it to mean that I could upgrade it to something more “in-your-face.” HB did not want to spend anymore than he already did so I offered my bonus that year out of the goodness of my heart. I argued that I would have just spent it anyway on trivial things so why not put it in something I will wear and leave to my grand-daughter. He said a grudgingly “Oh, okay.”
Before we got out of the car, he warned me to just let him negotiate with the jeweler. I would be quiet and anxious. Mr. Lee was not surprised and he smilingly said, “I knew she would not love it. I know her taste in jewelry by now.” Boy was he absolutely wrong. Through the years, I have gone from dainty to in-your-face to just the right size. But anyway, the ring was given plenty of steroids, resulting in a gorgeous right hand ring. It was going to cost more than my bonus to change the size of the stones. My husband asked if he could speak to me in private.
I negotiated mightily . In exchange of him paying for the difference, I offered to take his clothes to the cleaners, back massages, help the housekeeper do the laundry, bake cookies for our son’s class, heck, I was willing to forego any birthday presents. My husband has taught me something that every woman should practice: Never, ever negotiate against yourself. Do not sacrifice anything for another. Advocate for both. There is no right or wrong answer; there is only a good or bad argument. I turned out to be a brilliant student. Agreed!
The other thing I learned is that reasonable greed is good. It motivates you to kick ass! I asked for a huge, humungous diamond for my 5th wedding anniversary. My husband absolutely hates diamonds. He believes they are overrated, they cause war in Africa, they are boring, they are vulgar. Me, I absolutely like to have a diamond that is sickeningly vulgar. He said I would look like a matron. I said, I look forward to looking like one. Nonetheless, the buzzer sounded “Engggks!” Survey said “No!” But here was the deal: HB told me that if I were patient enough, I will get a nice ring on our 10th anniversary, sooner if I get a straight A when I graduate. I missed the perfect GPA by 11 points. He gave me a gorgeous ring but not a vulgar, matron looking diamond. So I had to patiently wait for years!
It would be my anniversary soon, and my husband told me that it would be our 12th year of being married. I get the date wrong all the time but I remember that I got married late in my life so it was important to me that I get to wear an anniversary ring on the second year of being married. So my husband, who, according to my son I take advantage of, asked our jeweler to make a modest right hand “anniversary diamond ring” for me 11 years ago. The jeweler warned my husband that just from knowing me for a little while, that I would not like this dainty 5-stone ring. When my husband said, “You know, we can have it reset if you like,” I took it to mean that I could upgrade it to something more “in-your-face.” HB did not want to spend anymore than he already did so I offered my bonus that year out of the goodness of my heart. I argued that I would have just spent it anyway on trivial things so why not put it in something I will wear and leave to my grand-daughter. He said a grudgingly “Oh, okay.”
Before we got out of the car, he warned me to just let him negotiate with the jeweler. I would be quiet and anxious. Mr. Lee was not surprised and he smilingly said, “I knew she would not love it. I know her taste in jewelry by now.” Boy was he absolutely wrong. Through the years, I have gone from dainty to in-your-face to just the right size. But anyway, the ring was given plenty of steroids, resulting in a gorgeous right hand ring. It was going to cost more than my bonus to change the size of the stones. My husband asked if he could speak to me in private.
I negotiated mightily . In exchange of him paying for the difference, I offered to take his clothes to the cleaners, back massages, help the housekeeper do the laundry, bake cookies for our son’s class, heck, I was willing to forego any birthday presents. My husband has taught me something that every woman should practice: Never, ever negotiate against yourself. Do not sacrifice anything for another. Advocate for both. There is no right or wrong answer; there is only a good or bad argument. I turned out to be a brilliant student. Agreed!
The other thing I learned is that reasonable greed is good. It motivates you to kick ass! I asked for a huge, humungous diamond for my 5th wedding anniversary. My husband absolutely hates diamonds. He believes they are overrated, they cause war in Africa, they are boring, they are vulgar. Me, I absolutely like to have a diamond that is sickeningly vulgar. He said I would look like a matron. I said, I look forward to looking like one. Nonetheless, the buzzer sounded “Engggks!” Survey said “No!” But here was the deal: HB told me that if I were patient enough, I will get a nice ring on our 10th anniversary, sooner if I get a straight A when I graduate. I missed the perfect GPA by 11 points. He gave me a gorgeous ring but not a vulgar, matron looking diamond. So I had to patiently wait for years!
One day, we were enroute to Europe when he saw me wearing a huge “solitaire.” I was playing with it, making it sparkle under the plane's reading light. “Where did you get that? I hope you did not pay more than a $1 for that!” Now, when he says these things, he says it with such deadpan expression. I said, “How dare you! “Why do you wear plastic stuff?” “This is not plastic, this is cubic zirconia!” “He said, it looks fake!” “It is fake!” I said. “If I leave it anywhere, I would not be sorry. I just want something sparkly while I travel.” “Ok, that makes sense.” “I hope you did not pay more than a dollar!” “No I paid $7 for this, hello, I am not that cheap!”
Then, suddenly, my 9th anniversary crept in. The time has come to talk about diamonds once again. So I asked him to remember our talk of years ago, and that what I wanted for my coming anniversary is a diamond, a big matronly sparkling diamond. I told him I don’t care if he bought it at WalMart or Kmart or Costco. I do not care about where. I just wanted it to be huge and sparkly. He told me to do research on diamonds. “I am not going to buy you a diamond. You will find it and tell me what you found.” I knew it was not going to be easy. I was up against his strong dislike for it.
One day, while surfing the Internet, I saw a site for Russian diamonds. Aha! I found something very exciting and it was dirt cheap. I read about it and haughtily declared, “I do not need you to buy me a diamond. I can afford to buy one for myself!” He asked me to read aloud what I was seeing to him.
I could not believe my own eyes. It stated that for less than $500 I can get a nice super-sized diamond. I wanted a 3-carat ring. I said, “Look they say here what it is made of.” I read the information out aloud. It was lab-made. I do not need any volcano spewing out my diamond. I do not like people to die so someone can find my stone. “I can get it from these guys and I do not have to hear your diatribe about diamonds anymore.” Ok, what is too good to be true, is. The Russian diamond turned out to be cubic zirconia, polished and set in gold or platinum. Fake.
I could not believe my own eyes. It stated that for less than $500 I can get a nice super-sized diamond. I wanted a 3-carat ring. I said, “Look they say here what it is made of.” I read the information out aloud. It was lab-made. I do not need any volcano spewing out my diamond. I do not like people to die so someone can find my stone. “I can get it from these guys and I do not have to hear your diatribe about diamonds anymore.” Ok, what is too good to be true, is. The Russian diamond turned out to be cubic zirconia, polished and set in gold or platinum. Fake.
My life was ruined. He was poker faced. I knew he was having pleasure in this. Notwithstanding, I kept on with the painful research. I went from being hopeful to angry to whiny to cheerful. So I asked to speak to him about it.
The one thing I love about my husband is that when he knows that something is important to me, he takes time to listen. And he knew that owning a diamond is very, very important to me. I asked him if he was going to grant my wish. If so, what is it that he wants me to find out because I felt that he was wearing me out. I showed him the results of my research and I was very worried that since the prices were too high that my wish would not be a reality and I negotiated against myself despite my better judgment.
I said, “Please just get me something cheap so long as it is huge.” “What are you calling cheap?” “A big sparkly diamond ring from Sam’s or Costco or WalMart for $5,000? (up talk, hello.) I will be happy with that. I am very serious.” He said, “That is cheap and I will not have my wife wear crap. My colleagues will see you at a function and see your cheap ring and they will be aghast to see my wife wear crap.” Oh…..Really? He continued, “I have been checking around. You know how I feel about diamonds.” No kidding. Why don’t you tell me again?
One day, he came home with a DVD. It was the Leonardo di Caprio’s Conflict Diamonds. I watched it and loved it. I love Leonardo. He is a great actor. The story was compelling. After I watched the movie, he called me to the study in our basement. I want to talk to you about your diamond.
“I think I might have found one. The Canadians do not have the size WE want. I am not sure the Australian mines have it either. Now after watching the movie, how do you feel about diamonds?” “I feel very strongly about it.” “I knew that would be your answer. This stone is going to cost a lot and something has to give.” “What do you mean? Are you saying for example that we need to sell my piano or give up one of our cats?” “Actually, I do not know why I said that. Forget it. Are you sure you really want one? You know a huge diamond will make you look old. Only matrons wear one.” “I am not young. I will be a matron someday. I want a diamond. I am not worried whether it comes from Canada, Australia, India, or Ceylon. I will be an activist later after I get mine.” “You are out of control!” “You think?”
The one thing I love about my husband is that when he knows that something is important to me, he takes time to listen. And he knew that owning a diamond is very, very important to me. I asked him if he was going to grant my wish. If so, what is it that he wants me to find out because I felt that he was wearing me out. I showed him the results of my research and I was very worried that since the prices were too high that my wish would not be a reality and I negotiated against myself despite my better judgment.
I said, “Please just get me something cheap so long as it is huge.” “What are you calling cheap?” “A big sparkly diamond ring from Sam’s or Costco or WalMart for $5,000? (up talk, hello.) I will be happy with that. I am very serious.” He said, “That is cheap and I will not have my wife wear crap. My colleagues will see you at a function and see your cheap ring and they will be aghast to see my wife wear crap.” Oh…..Really? He continued, “I have been checking around. You know how I feel about diamonds.” No kidding. Why don’t you tell me again?
One day, he came home with a DVD. It was the Leonardo di Caprio’s Conflict Diamonds. I watched it and loved it. I love Leonardo. He is a great actor. The story was compelling. After I watched the movie, he called me to the study in our basement. I want to talk to you about your diamond.
“I think I might have found one. The Canadians do not have the size WE want. I am not sure the Australian mines have it either. Now after watching the movie, how do you feel about diamonds?” “I feel very strongly about it.” “I knew that would be your answer. This stone is going to cost a lot and something has to give.” “What do you mean? Are you saying for example that we need to sell my piano or give up one of our cats?” “Actually, I do not know why I said that. Forget it. Are you sure you really want one? You know a huge diamond will make you look old. Only matrons wear one.” “I am not young. I will be a matron someday. I want a diamond. I am not worried whether it comes from Canada, Australia, India, or Ceylon. I will be an activist later after I get mine.” “You are out of control!” “You think?”
He called me at work one afternoon. The diamond arrived in his office. He showed his secretary and she said, “Oh my God.” Another colleague, she herself sporting a huge rock exclaimed, “Mother of God!” He came home to present the stone to me. It was huge I felt creeped by it but I would not say it to him. It was so huge it looked fake. OMG! He took it to our jeweler who told him he paid way too much for it as it fluoresces.
Apparently, a diamond has a characteristic that shown under black light, the diamond turns blue. I actually love this characteristic but apparently, it makes the diamond “inferior.” Unless I am going to the bar every day and sit under the black light which emphasizes the size of my teeth and the color of my bra, 52 Saturday nights out of the year, who cares? But HB decided that he would return it just because he paid too much for something that has flouresence. Good, it was too big anywyay!
The next call I got from him was that we needed to drive somewhere in Northern Maryland to a diamond dealer. He has three from the broker in New York that were shipped for us to see. We drove one beautiful Saturday morning and found ourselves in a building shared by the diamond dealer and a Jiffy Lube. We sat down in a very Spartan office. The office had no frills; it was very functional and there were no jewelry anywhere. Matter of factly, three huge diamonds were shown to us. They are ovals, now the favorites of the upper class, we were told. And so it was written, I have to have an oval diamond. We were asked to take them outside. Seriously? Yes, we were supposed to see it sparkle under the sun. I picked which one I liked and went back inside. Now, what I did not expect was as follows:
HB told Mr. Jiffy Diamond that we chose the one we liked . He told him that he would transfer the money within 3 days at which time the funds should be posted. The diamond would be sent back to New York for certification and would be set in a cheap setting for insurance purposes. He signed some papers and off we went. It was anti-climactic. I thought I was going home with a huge rock. Two weeks later, the diamond was delivered by courier to my husband. He took it home to show it to me. I admired it and then he hid it from me.
By January of 2008, I was anxious. But one day, my HB told me that it is time to think of how the ring would be set. We decided that it would be platinum with two half-moon shaped stones on each side. Mervis Diamonds was our choice of who would set it. By February, my diamond was set. We picked it up and I tried it on. It looked very, very, pretty. Sparkly, you bet! It is almost flawless with such clarity. Huge? Are you kidding me, it is absolutely bigger than any super zit I have had when I was a teen-ager!
We went shopping after we picked it up. I knew HB had it in his pocket so I asked to wear it while shopping. He said, “No. You know the rule. Your anniversary is not until April. It is not yours yet.” He started to walk away so I pulled him by his belt and would not let go. Under clenched teeth, I said, warningly despite a smile. “Let me wear that ring for an hour, you jerk. Give it here or I will start screaming.” He turned it over. He knew, after ten years that he married a crazy woman.
On the hour, and not one second more, he came to me and said, “Give me the ring.” Then he disappeared. He came back later. “Where did you go?” “I put the ring away.” That was the last I saw of the ring. He put it in the bank’s vault.
I was worried. I was worried that I would die and not wear the darn ring so I requested to talk to HB yet another time. “Look, if I ever die and never get to wear my ring, I just want you to know that I would die sad. You will have caused that sadness. So here is what I want you to do. I want you to have a viewing and let me bite the ring. Then make sure my casket is under recessed light. Hire someone to jiggle the casket so my diamond will sparkle.” He taught I have gone into the deep end. Then he asked seriously, “What will I do with this ring if something happens to you? Are you leaving it to your son?” “No. No young woman is entitled to wear a three carat ring. They should start small.” "So it was decided, the ring would be sold and the proceeds will go to my trust so that my son can buy his future bride a big diamond." But she ain't gonna get mine, ahuh.
In April of 2008, we celebrated our 10th anniversary with a weekend in the vineyards of Virginia. We had dinner at the Inn at Little Washington. Without much fanfare, he handed me the ring when I woke up on my anniversary. He handed me the box and said, “Here is your ring. Happy Anniversary!” I was ecstatic. At long last, I did not die, I did not have to do anything elses other than live and I get to wear my Lionardo De Caprio or Carpio, I cannot remember, Mr. Carp, whatever.
The next call I got from him was that we needed to drive somewhere in Northern Maryland to a diamond dealer. He has three from the broker in New York that were shipped for us to see. We drove one beautiful Saturday morning and found ourselves in a building shared by the diamond dealer and a Jiffy Lube. We sat down in a very Spartan office. The office had no frills; it was very functional and there were no jewelry anywhere. Matter of factly, three huge diamonds were shown to us. They are ovals, now the favorites of the upper class, we were told. And so it was written, I have to have an oval diamond. We were asked to take them outside. Seriously? Yes, we were supposed to see it sparkle under the sun. I picked which one I liked and went back inside. Now, what I did not expect was as follows:
HB told Mr. Jiffy Diamond that we chose the one we liked . He told him that he would transfer the money within 3 days at which time the funds should be posted. The diamond would be sent back to New York for certification and would be set in a cheap setting for insurance purposes. He signed some papers and off we went. It was anti-climactic. I thought I was going home with a huge rock. Two weeks later, the diamond was delivered by courier to my husband. He took it home to show it to me. I admired it and then he hid it from me.
By January of 2008, I was anxious. But one day, my HB told me that it is time to think of how the ring would be set. We decided that it would be platinum with two half-moon shaped stones on each side. Mervis Diamonds was our choice of who would set it. By February, my diamond was set. We picked it up and I tried it on. It looked very, very, pretty. Sparkly, you bet! It is almost flawless with such clarity. Huge? Are you kidding me, it is absolutely bigger than any super zit I have had when I was a teen-ager!
We went shopping after we picked it up. I knew HB had it in his pocket so I asked to wear it while shopping. He said, “No. You know the rule. Your anniversary is not until April. It is not yours yet.” He started to walk away so I pulled him by his belt and would not let go. Under clenched teeth, I said, warningly despite a smile. “Let me wear that ring for an hour, you jerk. Give it here or I will start screaming.” He turned it over. He knew, after ten years that he married a crazy woman.
On the hour, and not one second more, he came to me and said, “Give me the ring.” Then he disappeared. He came back later. “Where did you go?” “I put the ring away.” That was the last I saw of the ring. He put it in the bank’s vault.
I was worried. I was worried that I would die and not wear the darn ring so I requested to talk to HB yet another time. “Look, if I ever die and never get to wear my ring, I just want you to know that I would die sad. You will have caused that sadness. So here is what I want you to do. I want you to have a viewing and let me bite the ring. Then make sure my casket is under recessed light. Hire someone to jiggle the casket so my diamond will sparkle.” He taught I have gone into the deep end. Then he asked seriously, “What will I do with this ring if something happens to you? Are you leaving it to your son?” “No. No young woman is entitled to wear a three carat ring. They should start small.” "So it was decided, the ring would be sold and the proceeds will go to my trust so that my son can buy his future bride a big diamond." But she ain't gonna get mine, ahuh.
In April of 2008, we celebrated our 10th anniversary with a weekend in the vineyards of Virginia. We had dinner at the Inn at Little Washington. Without much fanfare, he handed me the ring when I woke up on my anniversary. He handed me the box and said, “Here is your ring. Happy Anniversary!” I was ecstatic. At long last, I did not die, I did not have to do anything elses other than live and I get to wear my Lionardo De Caprio or Carpio, I cannot remember, Mr. Carp, whatever.
I asked him prior to our trip to Virginia f he would go down on his knees and ask me to spend the rest of his life with me. He laughed. “You should be the one to get on your knees to ask me hand you the ring over!” I probably would have done so if he asked at this point.
So I wore it, my much coveted and much deserved ring during our wonderful special dinner. I think the Little Inn has made sure the recessed light in the "anniversary corner" of the restaurant show the ladies' rings in the best possible light. Because quite frankly, the twinkle on the ladies' rings resemble an auditorium where flashlights from cameras twinkle like stars. I believe mine was in the center of that night's constellation! Ok, whatever.
I have written so many term papers, taken too many exams, spent many summers studying and balancing my life being a mom, wife, and student. I have gardened, cooked, baked, vacationed, saw plays, did laundry, took piano lessons; yes, I deserved this rock.
The only thing my HB asked was for me to wear my diamond on my right hand. He does not want people to know he gave it to me as an engagement ring. He said it would be too pretentious! I forgot to that one day and it caused a great deal of anguish on my part and his as he proceeded to make a big deal out of the fact that I wore it on my left finger.
The only thing my HB asked was for me to wear my diamond on my right hand. He does not want people to know he gave it to me as an engagement ring. He said it would be too pretentious! I forgot to that one day and it caused a great deal of anguish on my part and his as he proceeded to make a big deal out of the fact that I wore it on my left finger.
I overlooked his angst about this ring. I felt that he still did not see how it meant to me to finally wear a nice diamond. To him, it was just a big boring, overrated and ordinary rock. To me, my diamond is my personal light; I love my engagement ring, which is a blue sapphire and I love its symbolism and its characteristics. However, I do not think my diamond is boring. It is exciting. My husband is not wrong; it is just that I am right.
One sunny morning, as we walked together HB held his right hand and asked me to look at his star sapphire ring. He said, “Do you see the star?” I held my right hand where I wear my diamond and said, “Yes, but do you see the sun?”
One sunny morning, as we walked together HB held his right hand and asked me to look at his star sapphire ring. He said, “Do you see the star?” I held my right hand where I wear my diamond and said, “Yes, but do you see the sun?”
