My girlfriend of 5 years said my proposal was embarrassing and the ring was cheap. I said nothing. I took the ring back the next day, returned it, and used the full amount to put a down payment on my dream car.
I drove past her the next day and gave a little honk. So, I’m pretty sure I set a new world record last night for the shortest engagement in human history. The official time, according to the imaginary judges in my head, was -45 seconds.
It was so fast it actually traveled back in time to make sure it never happened. My girlfriend, well, let’s get used to this, ex-girlfriend, Jessica and I have been together for 5 years. 5 years.
That’s a presidential term. That’s longer than the original run of some classic TV shows. And for the first few years, it was genuinely great.
Then, slowly but surely, she discovered the soul-sucking vortex that is influencer culture. Our life together stopped being something we lived and became something she curated. A perfect example.
Last year, for our anniversary, I saved up and booked this amazing secluded cabin in the mountains. I’m talking fireplace, starry nights, hiking trails, the whole romantic escape. I was so excited.
She spent the first 4 hours complaining that the woods didn’t have good lighting for selfies and that the cabin was too rustic for her brand aesthetic. Her brand. She sells scented candles on Etsy to about 90 followers.
Her brand is making our apartment smell like vanilla. Her friends, the brunch brigade, as I call them, are the same. A few weeks ago, I had the misfortune of being present when one of their friends got engaged.
I watched Tiffany and Madison dissect the poor girl’s ring photo on Instagram. 2 carats? Is he a farmer?
And the cut is so 2019. It was a masterclass in casual cruelty. That should have been my warning sign.
A huge flashing neon billboard that read,”Abort mission, Liam.” But, I’m a guy in love. We’re idiots.
So, I decided to propose. I spent the better part of a year putting money aside. I didn’t want to get her the same generic ring every one of her friends had.
I wanted something with meaning. I went to this incredible local artisan jeweler, a woman named Sarah who works magic with metal and stone. I told her about Jessica, the real Jessica, the one who used to love hiking and said her favorite color was the deep blue of the sky after a storm.
Together, we designed a custom ring. It had this gorgeous, ethically sourced sapphire as the main stone, the exact color of that sky, flanked by these intricate leaf-like silver workings. It was unique, it was thoughtful, and it was $10,000.
I’m an IT project manager, not a hedge fund baron. 10 grand is a huge deal for me. Yesterday was the day.
I planned it all out. No crowds, no cliches. I took her to the scenic overlook where we had our first real date 5 years ago.
I packed a picnic basket with champagne, her favorite fancy cheeses, the works. The sun was setting. It was perfect.
I got down on one knee. Her eyes went wide. I pulled out the custom-made wooden box, my heart doing a drum solo against my ribs.
I gave her the whole speech about our journey, about my love for her, about wanting to spend my life with her. Then, I opened the box. Her face, which had been a mask of excited anticipation, fell.
It didn’t just droop. It was a full-on market crash. She wasn’t looking at me anymore.
She was glancing around as if she was worried someone might see us.”Oh my god, Liam.” She whispered, and her voice had the same tone she used when she found a spider in the bathtub.”Is this Is this it? Here?
There’s no one even around to take a picture.” My brain felt like a dial-up modem trying to connect to a website from 1998. The screeching was deafening.
I I thought that was the point, I stammered. Just us. She finally looked down at the ring in the box.
She didn’t even reach for it. It’s cute, she said, and the word landed like an anvil. It’s a really nice promise ring, maybe, but the stone isn’t even a diamond.
It just It looks so cheap. Cheap. My $10,000 custom-designed, ethically sourced, full of meaning ring was cheap.
I don’t remember standing up. I don’t remember packing the picnic basket. All I remember is the drive home.
It was the longest, most silent hour of my life. She kept sighing loudly every few minutes, a sound designed to prompt me to speak, to apologize for the profound insult of my proposal. I just kept my eyes on the road.
We got home, and she announced she was too emotionally overwhelmed to talk, and locked herself in the bedroom. I’m sitting on the couch right now. She’s probably in there texting the brunch brigade about the horror she just endured.
She thinks I’m out here, heartbroken, mourning the future we were supposed to have. And a part of me is. But a much bigger part of me is on my laptop.
The tab for the local Ford dealership has been open for a month. I’ve been building my dream car online, a Ford Bronco, just for fun. She wanted a rock.
I think I’d rather have 300 horsepower. Update. Good morning, Reddit.
It’s been a wild 18 hours. Thanks for all the comments. Reading them last night while I was marinating in my own misery genuinely helped.
I woke up at the crack of dawn. I hadn’t slept. I just laid on the couch replaying the word cheap in my head on a loop.
Around 6:00 a.m., I got up. Jessica was still asleep in the bedroom, the queen in her castle of disappointment. I grabbed the ring box from my jacket, my wallet, my keys, and I walked out of the apartment without a sound.
My first stop was the jeweler. Sarah, the owner, was just getting her shop ready for the day. She saw me walk in, saw the box in my hand, and her warm smile just faded.”Oh, honey, no.”
I just shook my head.”It was cheap,” I said. She looked at me completely baffled. I gave her the 30-second version of the story.
The overlook, the picnic, the cringey, the promise ring. When I finished, she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes.”That girl,” she said,”does not deserve a man who knows what a sapphire is. Her love was conditional on carat size.
You, my dear, have dodged a cannonball.” Because she is a literal saint and a savvy business owner who knows a good story, she gave me a full refund. She said she’d put the ring in her display case as a one-of-a-kind piece.
I walked out of there with a cashier’s check for $10,000. The responsible voice in my head, which sounds a lot like my dad, told me to go straight to the bank and deposit the check back into my savings. It told me to be smart, to be mature.
I told that voice to shut up. I drove straight to the Ford dealership. I walked in with the energy of a man who had nothing left to lose.
The first salesman who approached me, a young guy named Dave with an incredibly earnest tie, asked,”Looking to upgrade?””Something like that,” I said, pulling the check out of my pocket. I’ve just liquidated a failed long-term investment, and I’m looking to reinvest the capital into a more reliable asset.
Specifically, that cactus gray Bronco over there.” Dave’s eyes lit up. He probably thought I was insane, but he also smelled a commission.
An asset with 300 horsepower and an optional snorkel. I like it. Two hours later, after the most liberating round of paperwork I’ve ever signed, I was the owner of my dream truck.
I peeled out of that dealership with the windows down, blasting Queen at a truly obnoxious volume. The new car smell, the rumble of the engine, it was glorious. I got home around noon.
Jessica was in the kitchen nursing a mug of coffee with a deeply put-upon expression. She was expecting me to come crawling back full of apologies and maybe a new less cheap ring.”There you are.” she said, her voice dripping with condescension.”I was starting to think you were ignoring me.
Are you ready to apologize and talk about how we’re going to fix this disaster?” I just looked at her, pulled the new Ford key fob out of my pocket, and gave it a little jingle. The Bronco chirped happily from the street below.”Can’t talk right now.”
I said.”Got to go run some errands.” I turned and walked back out the door, leaving her standing there in a state of complete baffled silence. The look on her face was better than any apology I could have ever received.
Final update. Evening, everyone. For those of you following along on this emotional roller coaster, welcome to the last stop.
The final confrontation happened about an hour ago. I came back from a victory drive and Jessica was waiting for me, arms crossed. The benevolent queen act was gone.
This was pure CEO-level fury.”Liam, we are going to talk about this right now.” she commanded.”I’ve decided that I am willing to forgive you for the pathetic proposal. We can work on it.
But we need to go back and get the ring.” I had to stop myself from laughing out loud.”Oh, the ring?” I said, keeping my tone light and breezy.”Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
I returned it this morning. Got a full refund. Turns out the jeweler has a no taste in partners return policy.”
Her jaw actually fell open. It was comical.”You returned it without asking me? What did you do with the money?””Ah, see?
That’s the best part.” I said, leaning against the kitchen counter.”I took that $10,000 and in a moment of extreme financial clarity, I used it as a down payment on a brand new Ford Bronco. She’s parked outside.
Her name is Bessie and she’s not cheap, she’s just built Ford tough. I have never seen a human face contort in so many different shades of rage. It was like a mood ring having a seizure.”You spent our money on a truck.”
she shrieked, the word our doing some very heavy lifting.”Nope.” I said popping the P. Let’s be crystal clear.
I spent my money, which I saved for a year, for your ring, which you called cheap and embarrassing, on my truck, which I think is awesome. You made your choice at the overlook. You didn’t want the ring.
So, I exchanged it for something that would never look at me with disappointment unless I forgot to change the oil. The argument, if you can call it that, devolved quickly. She called me a child.
She called me selfish. She said I was throwing away five years. I corrected her.”You threw it away when you valued a public spectacle over a private moment and a price tag over a promise.”
She did what I knew she would do. She got on the phone with the brunch brigade. A minute later, my phone started buzzing.
It was Tiffany. I answered on speaker phone.”Liam, Jessica is in tears. How could you be so immature and cruel?””Well, Tiffany.”
I said cheerfully.”She said my lifelong commitment was cheap, so I invested in a V6 engine instead. It’s called diversifying your emotional portfolio. Tell her to have a nice life.”
I hung up and blocked her number, then Madison’s, then Jessica’s. I told her I wanted her and all of her curated belongings out of my apartment by the end of the week. The real finale, the petty little bow on top of this whole thing, came this afternoon.
I was heading out to grab some celebratory pizza and beer. I fired up the Bronco and as I pulled out onto the street, I saw her standing on the sidewalk surrounded by three suitcases furiously tapping at her phone. Waiting for her Uber.
I couldn’t resist. I slowed the truck down just to a crawl. She looked up and saw me.
Our eyes met through the windshield. I gave her a big friendly unbothered grin. I gave the horn two cheerful little taps, honk honk.
Then I hit the gas leaving her and her luggage in a cloud of my dust. Watching her get smaller in my rearview mirror felt like the first day of the rest of my life. She wanted a status symbol, but she didn’t realize the man offering it was supposed to be the prize.
I guess I’m a fixer-upper. But at least the Bronco comes with a warranty. Thanks for listening Reddit.
Time for that pizza.
