Let’s say your girlfriend of three-and-a-half years heads off to Europe for seven weeks–without you. You can’t believe she’d do such a thing. Again.
You heard all her jabs about getting married, and you’d really been considering it. Well, at least I’ll have seven weeks to find the right ring, you think. You want this to be a surprise, so not once did you ask her anything about what she would like. What’s the surprise if she picks the ring out herself? you think.
Lucky for you, your girlfriend is not one of those women who designs her ring on the Tiffany web site every once a while “for fun.” In fact, she hates shopping. The sheer number of options would paralyze her.
You, however, know exactly what you want. Oval diamond. Pear-shaped sapphires on either side. So you go on-line and begin your research. You learn about the four C’s. The bow-tie effect sometimes seen in oval diamonds. On Amazon.com, you buy a set of six tweezers with which to handle diamonds. On BlueNile.com you look at pictures, then videos of diamonds spinning around so you can see their sparkle. You order one.
The diamond arrives. You head into the bathroom, where there is the best light, to view it. Then realize handling a diamond on the counter beside a sink which doesn’t even have a stopper in it is probably not the best idea.
You go to four different jewelers to get their opinion on your diamond. You call Blue Nile and have them do a “vault analysis” whereby they pull oval diamonds from their vault and give them a bow tie rating.
You return the Blue Nile diamond. Thankfully, buying diamonds on BlueNile is like buying tools on Amazon. Not happy? Return it in thirty days for a refund.
You decide to go with Jimmy at John Laughter Jewelry. He orders one batch of diamonds for you. You are not satisfied with any of them. He patiently orders another batch. Then a third. And finally you find your diamond.
“What’s her ring size?” Jimmy asks. You have no idea. You go home to find some of her rings. You look in the bedroom. The closet. Her office. Nothing. Not a one.
“I’ve seen her wear rings before,” you tell Jimmy. “I have pictures of her with rings on. But I can’t find a ring anywhere in the house.”
“Send me the pictures,” he says. You send six pictures of her to Jimmy. “I’m pretty sure she’s a five-and-a-half,” he says. “But we’re going to make a six because you want it to fit on her finger when you propose.”
You tell Jimmy exactly what you want. You email him pictures of ring designs, with arrows pointing to features you want to change, your instructions typed above the arrows.
On August first, five days before she’s due home, you pick up the ring. It’s exactly what you wanted. You thank Jimmy and that evening you head to Jargon, a new restaurant in town you’ve both liked. “I”m looking for a place to propose and I want to test the lighting at the table by the window,” you tell the hostess. There’s a couple sitting at that table, but that doesn’t phase you. You walk over and repeat your story. “Would you mind if I just pulled out the ring for a second?” They don’t. So you do. Nope. Not the right amount of sparkle.
Then you go downtown to Zambra’s, another favorite place of hers. “I’m looking for a place to propose to my girlfriend,” you tell the hostess. She brings you to a table she thinks is just right. Again you pull out the ring. Again there’s not enough sparkle. So you move to the seat on the other side of the table. Nope. She brings you to a second table. Then to the outside patio. Nope.
Over the next few nights you go to four more restaurants. At Rezaz, they bring you to the back, where a large ball of lights hangs down surrounded by six tables. “I can adjust it to however bright you want it,” they tell you. And you have them do just that. You sit at the table they recommend. Pull out the ring. Then you move to the other seat. And finally, you know where she will sit on the night you propose.