My Four Engagement Rings

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A little-known fact about me is that I have been engaged four times, and there is a pretty crazy story about the four rings which were associated with each engagement. The proposals occurred over a span of many years, with the first taking place in 1990, followed by one in 1994, one in 1998, and one in 2005. The engagement which took place in 1998 culminated in a wedding the following year, but the other engagements fell apart for different reasons.

The first man I cohabitated with suggested that we have rings custom made for our impending engagement, to which I agreed. He stated that he wanted to be able to wear his band on his right hand while we were engaged, to which I also agreed. We had our rings custom designed and crafted, and because my boyfriend had poor credit, I opened an account at the jewelry store in my name. Shortly after we had the rings made, my guy lost his job, and because he was a raging alcoholic, he stopped making any effort whatsoever to secure new employment. As a result, I had to cover all household expenses, and was stuck paying for my own engagement ring. I ended up breaking up with the loser because I couldn’t see myself being financially responsible for him for the rest of my life.

Shortly after I broke up with Scott, I met a wonderful man, and he ended up moving in with me after about a year. I mentioned to him that, should he decide to propose to me, he could take the credit from my first engagement ring (which was for sale on consignment) and use it towards the purchase of a ring. He ended up using that credit, purchased a ring, and proposed to me. We remained engaged for a year and a half before he broke off the engagement, stating that his mother told him he wasn’t ready for marriage, yet he insisted on remaining in the relationship. I endured what I could for two years, then ended things because I couldn’t justify being with a man who seemed to want our relationship to regress rather than progress.

Then it was off to medical school for me. At the beginning of my second year of medical school, I met someone who truly swept me off my feet, and we were engaged three months later, albeit without the formality of a ring. I told my fiancé that I had an engagement ring which we could sell so that he could use the funds towards the purchase of a new ring. When we visited the jeweler whom we had chosen to design and craft our rings, the jeweler stated that it would be better to use the same diamonds from the old ring. I didn’t like the idea of using the center diamond, but agreed to use the two trillion diamonds which flanked the center stone. I asked the jeweler what the extra cost would be if we were to switch out the center diamond, and both my fiancé and I balked at the figure we were given. My fiancé insisted on using the center diamond from the old ring, declaring, “If you’re a good wife, I’ll get you a bigger diamond when we get to our 20th wedding anniversary”.

We were married for 3 years when I insisted on getting a divorce, and it took a year and a half for our divorce to be finalized. Once our divorce was finalized, I elected to put my wedding and engagement ring set on consignment, with the mindset that if it ever sold, I would just pocket the money. What ended up happening was that I met someone very special, and when it looked like things were getting serious, I told my man that he could use the credit on my wedding set towards an engagement ring if he was so inclined. He of course went for the credit, bought a beautiful ring, and proposed to me.

Our relationship didn’t work out, so I once again was left with a ring on which I had equity. Once I realized what a curse that ring was, I sold it and used the funds to pay bills.

For any woman who is willing to either do the foolish things I had done in the past, or who is even willing to purchase her own engagement ring to help her guy out financially (this actually happened with my best friend’s daughter when she decided to marry), I URGE you not to do it! You are worth more than that!

One Of My Worst Dating Experiences

Copyright: belchonock

If you’ve been in the dating world for any span of time, I am willing to bet that you have at least one story about a bad dating experience. There have been a few doozies in my dating life, but one in particular was particularly aggravating. I’ve gotten so many laughs from relaying the story about Max that I figured my subscribers would also get a chuckle out of it.

I met Max (and yes, that was his real name) at a Halloween party in 2009 at the Skirball Center on Sepulveda Blvd. While I was at the party, a very nondescript man who was not at all my type approached me, began talking to me, and followed me around. You guessed it, this was Max. He refused to leave my side, cockblocked a number of men who were my type, and just annoyed me to no end. When I decided to leave the party, he hounded me for my phone number, and for some utterly stupid reason, I gave it to him.

Max called me the next day, asking if I was free, to which I replied that I was watching Sunday NFL Football with my roommates. Without hesitation, Max invited himself over, and because I was so distracted by the activity in the house, I relented and gave him my address. When Max showed up at my place, he was empty handed, and promptly asked if we had beer or some other libation he could enjoy. I opened up a bottle of sake and poured two glasses. About 30 minutes after Max showed up, my two roommates stated that they were planning to put some burgers and chicken on the grill, and invited Max and me to join them in consuming the food. Once the food was cooked, the four of us sat in front of the TV, eating, drinking, and watching the game. A big smile broke on Max’s face, and he said, “Wow, this is awesome! I’m getting free food, free booze, and I’m watching football!” which made me cringe and also triggered concerned expressions on both my roommates’ faces.

Once the afternoon game was over, I told Max I had an early day the next day, and thanked him for coming over. Max stated that he would make it up to me the following week by taking me to dinner, to which I reluctantly agreed. Two days later, Max called me and we made plans to meet at a restaurant called Firefly in Studio City that Friday. For those of you who don’t know the restaurant, here is a portion of the current (2022) dinner menu:

Fried heritage chicken with mashed potatoes & gravy, horseradish slaw
and a damn fine buttermilk biscuit (or just as fine GF cornbread for the intolerant)   29 

Potato kugel with king trumpet mushrooms, roasted carrots, tofu creamed spinach and truffled demi   28
Red chile braised pork with crinkly sweet potatoes, collard greens, crispy mushrooms and pepita–cilantro salsa   30

 Zucchini, corn and poblano enchiladas verdes with black beans, romaine, pickled red onions and cashew crema   27

 Moqueca Baiana of rockfish, mussels and scallops with watercress–watermelon radish salad and jasmine rice   31

 Dijon crusted ocean trout filet with seared asparagus, quinoa–pine nut pilaf and sauce gribiche   33

 Baked mac ‘n cheese with cheddar, gruyere and parmesan bread crumbs   12

On Friday, Max and I met at the restaurant and were seated at a lovely al fresco table. The waiter brought menus and took our drink orders, which consisted of two similar mixed drinks on the rocks. Max perused the menu for several minutes, then looked over at me with a dissatisfied facial gesture. I asked him what was wrong, to which he replied, “I just don’t see anything that is grabbing me, ya know? I think I want to see if they can make a burger for me.” Since I wanted to be a good sport, I told him that if the chef was willing to accommodate his request, I would also have a burger. Well, Max got his wish, and we ordered burgers. We also ordered a second round of drinks.

The burgers were delicious, and our conversation flowed better than I thought it would, but since I felt no romantic spark with Max, I just wanted to get through the date without any awkwardness. Then the waiter placed the bill on the table while Max and I were talking about something that made us both laugh. While still laughing, Max picked up the bill, glanced at it, scowled, threw the bill onto the table, and remarked, “Oh, I can’t pay this!” I picked up the bill and saw that the total was $75, and because I wanted to be accommodating, I suggested that we split the bill, to which he agreed.

Two minutes later, Max scowled (this time at me), said “Wait a minute!”, and grabbed the bill. He studied it for a minute, then remarked, “The drink you ordered is $1 more than mine, and you had two of them, which means you owe $2 more than me.” I just sat there, dumbfounded. Was this guy really that cheap? I was so disgusted and so intent on getting out of that restaurant that I told him, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll pay the whole thing.” I proceeded to pay the entire bill plus tip, because Max didn’t even offer to leave the tip.

When we walked to the valet area to pick up our cars, Max said, “I’ll pay your valet fee if you let me come over” to which I replied, “No thank you, keep your $5.” Needless to say, there was no third date with Max, but he continued to call me, begging me to take him with me to Preview Night at the L.A. Auto Show. I had purchased two tickets (at $100 a pop), and mistakenly mentioned that I was going to the event and was waiting to hear back from a friend who said he wanted to join me. Max truly believed that I would have been willing to take him, on MY dime, to the event. I asked him to please stop calling me, and when he refused to leave me alone, I blocked his number.

I’d love to hear about your nightmare dating stories, so please share in the comments!