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Here is a little sampling of some of my least favorite comments I’ve received from people who have seen my ring:
“Oh! That is so…unusual.”
“Rings these days are so different…”
“Well, I have never seen anything like that.”
“Uh…that is really something.”
Let’s just say it: choosing a bridal party is equal parts sucky and joyful.
I’m more of a “small group of close friends” than a “big group of acquaintances” gal. I was thrilled to ask my closest friends to stand next to me…but I am still—STILL—feeling the sting of not being able to include everyone. I’m lucky, though, and every single person has been a gem about it.
I mostly just asked them on the phone, but I did send out three different versions of a card, which said on the inside, “Will you be a bridesmaid?”
I was a little surprised to find that Mr. PD had designed a ring himself. I always knew he would take great care in picking out a ring—he devotes a lot of thought to all major decisions. But he’s not exactly the “design” type, nor is he “artsy.” Turns out—you don’t need to be.
Like many women, the first ring that ever really stunned me was Lady Legacy:
(source)
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Once upon a time, I did a brief visual-design stint with my favorite store. And how perfect for a bibliophile like me that at the time I started, the medium for their art was books. Glorious arches of books.
I figured I’d just dive into the deep end, right?
I don’t *love* the idea of talking about this because it seems so against the norm. But you know what? I don’t believe in “normal” in relationships—there are just things people talk about more than others.
Spoiler alert…it wasn’t lifelong commitment that freaked me.
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We had agreed to exchange one “small” present before traveling to our hometown for holiday break. I gave him a few pairs of boxers. He gave me a diamond ring. Underwear vs. Jewels…it’s hard to say who came out victorious.
“The ring isn’t the present!” he told me after we calmed down a little. “The ring is independent of Christmas. THIS is the small present.”
A weighty, rectangular package revealed the most recent issues of The Knot and The Knot: Ohio. What can I say? The guy knows his audience.
Then we drank the bottle of champagne he had hidden in the refrigerator. We danced and giggled and took pictures and started to talk about wedding stuff. I laughed about how I had given him underwear, which he had feigned enthusiasm for—not letting on that he was going to propose minutes later.
“I wasn’t faking!” he insisted. “I like them a lot. They’re my fiance boxers!”
(Double chin/fiance boxers + crazed happiness/gratuitous ring flash…at least we have fun.)
I’ve been dating the guy for almost eight years. I can feel any shift, even a minor one, in the tectonics of our relationship. He had been a little off—I could feel it in my bones. I asked him a few times if he was holding something back. I’m not sure what I thought it was—nothing serious. Maybe his work research wasn’t going the way he had hoped. He shrugged it off with careful wording.
One night a few weeks later, he looked over at me and asked, “Do you know how you asked if I’m keeping something from you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have been.”
Wow. SO NOT the way to start this conversation. While I am lightheaded in panic, he continues:
“For the past few weeks, I’ve been designing a ring for you.”
Well hey, hive! Delighted to (internet) meet you. Weddingbee and I had our meet cute during my stint as an MOH, and I’m happy to share my humble documentation of stumbling toward the altar. Thanks for having me during the caffeine-addled frenzy that is my life in wedding planning.
I’m supposed to start out by telling everyone why I chose Prairie Dog, right? How I am like a prairie dog or something? Well, here is my lofty, metaphorical reason: I’m smitten with the icon. She’s got mad curves and her heart in her hand—that’s my kind of gal.
When I told my fiance he’d be referred to as Mr. Prairie Dog, he was like…that’s awkward. So I said maybe I’d call him Almanzo “Manly” Wilder instead and then proceeded to cackle like a banshee at my own hilarious joke. He shook his head at me while I recovered from my solo giggle fit, and then said, “I have no idea who that is.” Luckily, he loves me for my lame book jokes and how heartily I laugh at myself.
I met my future mister on a roof at volunteer camp the summer before my junior year of high school. Sometimes I still think to myself, “great job, sixteen year-old me. Your hair was regrettable, but you knew what you were doing.”
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Mrs. Prairie Dog, Cincinnati Age and Occupation: 24, Program Coordinator Fiance's Age and Occupation: 25, PhD/Biomedical Engineer Engagement Date: December 18, 2009 Wedding Date: May 2011 Venue: Glendale Lyceum About Me: I'm a pilgrim soul of a girl with a house full of books and a coffee addiction that could slay Juan Valdez. My life is a whirl of grammar correction, good music, glue-gunning, and two pets named Hazel and Winston Churchill. I'm marrying my high school boyfriend in a formal-ish spring affair, roughly themed: "Elizabeth Bennet crashes a party co-hosted by Jay Gatsby and Cath Kidston, and loves it."
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