Oh, diamonds.  I love diamonds.  I love them so much, I was born an Aries and would swim in diamonds if it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

When I first met my husband, he showered me in them.  Not literally, because that’d hurt REALLY bad, but he still spoiled me rotten.  We were young and carefree (meaning we drank a lot and didn’t have kids) and had nothing but time.   I worked for the airlines, so we flew free and his company gave him six weeks of vacation time each year, so life was pretty kick ass.

It all began on or about December 14th.  There’s a story behind that but I’m limited on time and space so I’ll cut to the chase.  For the first year or so of our courtship (I always wanted to apply that to myself, there was no courting required as neither of us knew the meaning of the term), I got a piece of diamond jewellery from him.  You can hate me now.

Valentine’s Day,  just two months after we met, we went on vacation and he managed to get a teddy bear on our hotel bed before I noticed it.  I guess me having no idea how he did it isn’t that big of a shock, but I was thrilled to walk in to find it there and completely believed it was provided to us by the hotel.

I’m not going to tell you the whole story because this is a sponsored post from 77 Diamonds and it ends up being a fairly saucy tale,  but I about peed myself when I saw a diamond necklace around the bear’s neck.  In that moment, I honestly believed that the hotel put the bear on the bed and didn’t realize there was a diamond necklace around it’s neck.   It took me a few moments to realize that wasn’t the case and I’m ending that segment right there, only adding that I immediately showed my gratitude.

Two months after that came my birthday, April 14th (take note, that’s next week), and I’m pretty sure he got me a diamond ring then.  It was a platinum three stone, I loved it.  The purpose of the ring was so that when we went to Vegas, we could tell people we were newlyweds and would get free stuff.   He says Vegas is America’s Disney World, only with “Less mouse and more beer”.

June 14th is what ended up being the day we chose to get married years later, because we figured we may as well keep up the every two month holiday trend and that first June 14th of our relationship, he somehow slipped a diamond watch into the mix.  I’m such an asshole, I don’t even remember how or why it was presented and can guarantee if you asked him he wouldn’t remember why or how either due to the copious amounts of alcohol we used to consume.

I have to say, I cut him off after that.  My ears weren’t pierced, so I didn’t need earrings at that time (but they are now and I got some from my mama) and he covered the hand, neck and wrist so I actually asked him to stop buying me jewelry when a diamond tennis bracelet was given to me on or about August 14th, because of the whole “every two month” thing.  I have the smallest wrists ever and bracelet’s and I don’t get along, so I actually made him return it and we decided to get drunk instead.

Once he got the diamond cut off, that man continued to randomly surprise me with gifts for the few years before we got married, had children and became instantly poor.  I came home from work more than once to find an entire outfit -including shoes- waiting for me on our bed and we spoileded ourselves by taking lavish (free flight, cheap hotel) vacations around the globe.

As the years went on, the random gifts continued until the big rock showed up a few years later.  People hate me for telling this story so I’ll make it brief.  I actually hate surprises, which is why I liked knowing I could expect something on the 14th and he likes routine, so it was a win-win situation.

He didn’t propose to me.  That would require a surprise.  Instead, I told him exactly what I wanted and I told him I wanted it by December 14th of that year.   On December 14th of 2003, he decided he was never going to go and buy me something on his own ever again.

That’s when you know it’s love, people.  We were at dinner and I was patiently (ha) waiting for him to hand it over, so he did.  Literally.  He handed me the box with a VERY uncomfortable look on his face.  Not because of the whole “will you marry me” thing, because that’s not our style, but he actually hated the ring he got me and knew I would too.

I was very specific when it came to my rock.  I wanted a three-stone custom engraved platinum diamond ring with a round center and superman shield on each side.  I actually stuck my arms out and sang the song when I described it. What he presented was five carats of confusion.  Five effin’ carats.  Nuh-uh.  No way.  I like big, but I don’t dig tacky.

As soon as we finished eating that afternoon, we went to the designer and I handed it back.  I sat him down and in great detail explained what I want and told him he had two weeks to do it because I was furious that this guy couldn’t follow the same directions Ryan gave him weeks before.

Two weeks it was.  It may not have been on the 14th, but we’re classy so when the finished ring was completed, we decided to hit up the Olive Garden, where I believe I repeatedly said “Gimme, gimme, gimme”.

A bit terrified over the fit I threw before, he made me put my hand under the table and he put it on my finger.   Holy shitballs, do I know how to describe a ring to a designer.  I somehow managed to lift my hand up just as the sunlight was coming in the window and when the light hit my hand, rainbows shot across the restaurant.  There it was, a two carat round with custom outer engraving and the superman crest on each side (Pause as I stick my arms out to fly).

After that moment, life went on as usual.  We went crazy places, did crazy things and got married in Las Vegas on a Monday because it was June 14th.   After that day, my husband decided to never purchase anything without me by his side again.  He refuses to even go to the grocery store with a detailed printed list because he believes he’ll screw it up, which is astounding, because he actually always does.

So I got a credit card.

Be Sociable, Share!

•