My Precious.

I love hearing about engagements. I love reading proposal stories and I love seeing how thought out, or how random and spontaneous, they are. In the midst of my latest quest to learn about all things wedding, I've been trawling through photography websites and I always (always!) end up hunting for the ring shots.

Rings are just so personal, you know? They are so different for everyone - there's no one perfect ring. The important stuff is what goes into the purchasing, creating or handing-down of the ring, and that's why they mean what they mean. But then there's the creation itself: what style, what size, what colour, what cost? For some, it's a whopping two-carat piece of bling. For others, it's a simple gold wedding band. Maybe it's both? Maybe it's neither.

I remember the first ring Jason gave me, as an anniversary present a good few years back. It was a beautiful ring, and one that I still own - a white gold band with a gorgeous little diamond stone. I remember sometimes, on the sly of course, parading around with it on my left hand, trying it on for size and seeing what it felt like to have a ring there. I remember thinking how perfect it was, and wishing that it was an engagement ring.

And more recently in my 'woe! I am not engaged yet' phase, I remember hunting down my future non-existant engagement ring. I found one I liked on the internet and eventually went and checked it out in person. In more than one store. On more than one occasion. In more than one continent. (What? We were in the vicinity of Tiffany & Co on 5th Avenue! How could I not check it out!)

If you're curious, this is the ring I lusted over for a very long time.

I know what you're thinking, right? Bling! High hopes much? But believe it or not, I'm not a big girly girl. I didn't specifically want a ring from that store. I just liked the style, and figured it was a starting point. I saved it to my bookmarks. I may have even dropped the occasional subtle (?) hint every now and again. I think I may have even dragged Jase into the Bond St store here in London, casually hinting that 1-carat would be just fine, thanks.

(Oh my goodness, just typing that makes me feel like such a cow. I had no shame!)

It's not the ring that I'm wearing on my finger right now.

The boy tells me that he went and checked out my dream ring and wasn't that impressed with it in person. He then went on to choose one that he liked, and that he thought I'd like too. I have loads of people asking me how he chose it, and at the end of the day - it was all him. I think that's what I love the most. I love that he knew me well enough to know I'd love the ring, regardless of me never laying eyes on it before.

At the end of the day, whether he proposed to me with my dream ring or with a token gesture, my response would have been exactly the same: something along the lines of 'OH MY GOD! ARE YOU SERIOUS? OH MY GOD. QUICK! PUT IT AWAY!' (We were standing near water, people. I was terrified it was going to fling off my hand and into the murky depths, or something.)

I got my token gesture. I wore my £10 ring with pride while my official ring was resized. For nearly three months, I proudly flashed that hand and shared our happy news.

The rest is history.

My engagement ring is the perfect fit for me - in all senses of the word.