teclo

So, we found a sapphire. We found the most beautiful, oddly shaped (it's a very long oval), oddly cut (so it's more "brilliant" on one side than the other), gorgeous thing I have ever seen. The jeweler allowed me to take the stone outside, a $1,500 stone into the street, and look it in the sunlight. My stomach flip flopped and I lost my breath for about thirty seconds.

We discussed how wide the band would be, how the stone would be set, and now the whole thing is in motion. We might go back next week to see if he has any more stones.

The jeweler is this crazy guy who runs his own shop, buys his own stones, makes his own rings, tells silly stories, and we both love him.

I looked at the boyfriend when we both found the sapphire we both loved and all I could think of was "Oh my god. I am actually going to get married. I am going to marry this man." And I was filled with love and confusing feelings and joy.

And there's the feminist in me who says that I shouldn't want a ring, and I shouldn't want to get married. And then there's me: the girl who wants to have the punk rock wedding, me with my tattoos and the boyfriend with his sideburns and we will make out all night long.

But it's okay for a feminist to get married, right?

(Oh yeah, and we aren't engaged yet, we're just that much closer)