As soon as Mr J proposed to me on our four year anniversary and handed me a ring box, I knew that being a wise soul, he would not have picked me a ring himself. I am one of the fussiest feral girls around and I hinted to him that I wanted to pick my own when the time came. I don’t even let him pick my Christmas presents without my input or careful instructions from Freya and Amelie, because he’d no doubt get me something shite! I’m not being a bitch, I’m just telling the truth. Now, his intentions are always good, it’s just that I’m a fussy mega beast! And I can’t pretend to like something if it’s vile.
Mr J proposed in New Orleans by basically getting the proposal out of the way first thing, so he could stop shitting himself about it! Bless him.
I’d had about four hours sleep and was appallingly hungover because we’d been out on the piss all night. My mouth was as dry as Gandhi’s flip flop and I stank like a hobo. But it was so romantic really, the privacy was lovely. Mr J is a quieter sort, a big public showy proposal, would just not be his bag. I didn’t mind. I was just so happy and overjoyed to be engaged to the love of my life, finally!
When he pushed the green ring box towards me and asked me to marry him, I nervously opened the box to see the sapphire green stone (I thought it was emerald at first) he quickly mentioned that I could pick my own ring; that this was his Nana’s ring who had passed years ago. I thought that was a lovely touch, but I was relieved to be able to pick my own ring.
If you’re going to be wearing something forever, you have to LOVE it. Right?
After the holiday, I was still on cloud nine and we decided, without haste, that it was time to go ring shopping! Wooooooo fucking hoooo!!!
Now being a bit of a wedding addict (it happens when you’ve been maid of honour three times and a bridesmaid seven) I had already looked at rings. When I say looked, I had an album saved on my laptop and a secret Pinterest board that only I could see, dedicated to engagement rings. Not, that I was desperate for a proposal or anything.
Most of the rings I pinned were huge, massive diamonds. Big fuck off rocks. I’m a celebrity whore, all the rings I look at are Kim Kardashian and Jennifer Lopez style. Massive outrageously expensive showy rings. So, I quickly had to come to terms with the fact that I was not going to have one of those rings with our budget. Not many normal people would.
I started by looking in Jenny Jones in Manchester. It’s a gorgeous jewellers, full of old vintage pieces that look like they tell a story. I’ve found, for a city like Manchester, the jewellery shops tend to be high street chains and Jenny Jones is personally the only one I think has originality. I went to Jenny Jones a few times with Freya to help pick her engagement ring in 2015, she found her lovely ring there and I secretly hoped that one day I’d be back there looking for myself.
Once in Jenny Jones it became apparent that I had no idea what I was looking for. I tried on every type of ring they had: emeralds, halos, solitaires- the lot! I had a smashing old time. There were obviously things I liked more than others. I wear a lot of gold and silver (I wear them together, if it’s good enough for Kate moss it’s good enough for me). So basically I learnt that I wanted something gold and that I liked big fuck off diamonds.
I tried on some rings that were £25,000! They were amazing!! But I had to come back to earth of course. Mr J is wonderful but he’s not a bloody millionaire.
I searched in North Wales where I’m originally from and although there were some nice ones in some lovely jewellers and I met some lovely people, I didn’t get excited about anything I tried on. Mr J was starting to get pissed off with me! How many ring shops would I have to drag him to? He’s more of a trainers sort of shopper.
Amelie’s feral parents are in the know with these sorts of things so I went to them for help. Was I being a fussy bitch? Would I ever find a ring? Amelie and her mum wisely advised I go to Chester, and as soon as I started googling I found at least ten different jewellers that looked decent, online.
Amelie and Mr S had basically bought her forfeited, solitaire diamond ring for a bargain from Milton’s and had it reset into a simple band, she loves a vulgar rock too. So, I thought I might be onto a winner with this advice.
We planned to go on a Saturday, Manchester United were playing Manchester City at 12.30 lunch time that day. Mr J gave me strict instructions that we would need to get to Chester about 9am and be back in Manchester in time for him to watch the match with the lads.
The first couple of jewellers were crap and I couldn’t even be arsed trying anything on. But then we went to Milton’s. Oh my fucking god!
There are a few of these jewellers around the North West. They sell old, vintage second hand diamonds, and pawned jewellery (forfeited) there too. It’s the kind of place where you can get a lot for your money!
As soon as I saw the ring in the window I knew. I was so excited, my heart started racing and my palms went sweaty. It was an oval cut diamond solitaire ring on a thin gold band.
This was the bastard I had been looking for!
It was so beautiful. Classic, but it also held a respectable sized rock. It was just what I wanted, although I didn’t know that until that moment.
I tried it on and just kept saying over and over again “I love it”. They saved it for us and we went to about six other jewellers first, just to make sure there wasn’t something else I loved more. Mr J kept getting me to try on cheaper ones, bless the poor sod! But I knew in my heart I had already found the ring I wanted.
I sent pictures to Amelie and Freya who confirmed that it was fabulous. When you know you know!
We went back and got it. Bless Mr J he had to pay on three different cards.
I was so happy, my hands were shaking! Dramatic! I wanted to cry/scream/laugh/sing all at once. I don’t know if I could ever completely put into the words the tremendous joy I felt. Honestly, I went a bit mad for a minute. Well, a bit more mad than usual.
The fella in Milton’s said we could get it resized that day, so we had to stay in Chester for the afternoon. Poor Mr J had to miss watching footy with the boys! The things you do for love, hey?
We ended up watching it in Hickory’s by the canal (which is lovely by the way, I would totes recommend it). I didn’t really watch the footy, obviously, I fucking hate football. But, I rang everyone I knew with a pulse and talked to them incessantly about the ring.
I also took about a thousand pictures of my hand and booked myself the next available nail appointment. A girls got to do, what a girls got to do.
I can’t even explain how lovely that day was, what it meant to me and how lucky I am to have a wonderful man who bought me a beautiful ring.
I’ve never had anything so pretty and I don’t think I will ever have the same feelings about any other inanimate object, as I do about my engagement ring. I know it’s just material but I fucking love it. I’m so happy that he got it for me.
I better get it insured ASAP before I get pissed and lose the fucker!! We have all had a few near misses when trying on Amelie’s over the years, and Freya has accidentally thrown hers across a bar before, what a dickhead!
Amelie took the piss out of me by making this collage….
Did you pick your own ring? Are you a fussy bitch like me?
Are you obsessed with your engagement ring too? How did you find yours?
Thanks for reading the first post in our #bloggybrides series!
A very happy Clara X
(All images copyright free. Quotes made using Typorama. Animal head app for photographs.)
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