{The Most Terrifying Sight.}

I was in Penn Station, at Starbucks, rifling through my bag for my wallet, so I could just buy my damn latte and get on with my day. I had been jostled on the train, and had had a stroke of brilliance that I almost didn’t write down in time, because of all the jostling, and you know what? For a Friday, the 17th was sort of being an asshole.

Then I looked down, and I almost vomited in public. Because you know what I saw? I saw the most terrifying sight. I saw this:


The guys out there are going, “Huh? I don’t… get it… What’s that?” The women out there have fainted, because they know what I knew– THAT IS WHAT AN EMPTY ENGAGEMENT RING SETTING LOOKS LIKE.


I panicked. And I mean like, I totally lost my shit, right there, in the middle of Penn Station Starbucks. Because that ring… That ring is the ring that James saved up for for almost a solid year. It’s the ring that is the single most valuable thing I have ever owned – and I am not just talking monetarily {though, yes, I am talking monetarily, also}. It’s the ring that’s in the photo he used when he asked me to marry him, and the diamond that I have stared at a thousand times because it’s the exact ring I had always dreamed out.

It was the ring that held all my sparkly hopes and dreams, and I was the moron who had lost it IN STARBUCKS.

Or on the train.

Or in the hallway of Penn Station.

I wasn’t sure. All I knew is that it was not on my hand, and the only logical thing I could come up with to solve the problem was cry and sputter and empty out my purse and hope that it had fallen out in there when I was grabbing for a notebook to write down my brilliant ideas.

I called James, who rushed down to Penn Station. I called Jennifer, and through choked sobs begged her to please go scour the floor of our bedroom, and the hallway, and also just to take a peek down both of the cats’ throats and look for ANYTHING shiny. She is a lovely girl, and heartily and hastily agreed to all my pleas.

I tracked down a police officer. They’re much nicer to you if it’s obvious you’re crying. I showed him my empty setting, sitting lifelessly on my left ring finger. “I lost m-my d-diamond…” I said pitifully. He escorted me briskly back down to the track where I had disembarked the train and held the train there in the station while two conductors enthusiastically helped me pull all the benches off all the seats around the area where I sat. He even sounded like he was going to kick James out of the area until I introduced him as my fiance and then cried a lot harder because boy did I feel bad.

It was a harrowing half hour.

And you know what? Let me stop you right there. I know that you’re going to tell me that it wasn’t my fault. {You’re right, it wasn’t.} And you’re going to tell me that it’s just a ring, and that we could always buy another one. {You’re right, it was, and sure… eventually we could have. Maybe.} But James and I…

The ring is James and I. It’s this beautiful thing that sort of just sits in the middle of the rest of our chaos. It’s the proof that he listens to the little things I say, even when I don’t think he’s aware of my voice. It’s what we’d lay in bed and look at when we talked about how we’re going to raise our children, and what kind of house we’re going to buy after we get famous and pay off our debts and the debts of our family. It’s what I’d play with when he was at work and I missed him.

I loved my ring, because I love my future husband. It’s not just a piece of jewelry to me. It means something so much more. I know that all the other stuff is still there, even if the ring is gone. I know they’re not divinely linked. I know that everything would have been fine, and life would have soldiered on, and I’d have figured something out and put on a brave little face and pretended not to be heartbroken. {Until I talked to my mother. I never pretend not to be heartbroken if I’m talking to my mother. Bless her heart.}

And then a miracle happened.

My phone rang, and it was Jennifer. In my haste to answer it, I hung up on her. I called her right back.

Jen: … What shape is it?
Jen: Square? Good. I think I have it. It’s big, right?
Jen: … Yes, Mom says that’s the diamond. I have the diamond.
Me: ;asdhfjklashdfjlkhsdfkjanbsjkdfhasljkdfhlakshjdfasjhfajshkdfajsdfhajkshdf … OK. *click*

And I hung up on her again. I called her back once just to be sure that she was sure that it was, in fact, the diamond. {It was. It was sitting in our room, on top of a stack of Save The Dates that I haven’t had a chance to send out yet because I’ve been slammed with meetings all week.}

I got home and rushed up to our room and cupped it in my hands. It looked big and small and perfect and lonely all at once.


And then I cried some more. Because seriously… I’m the luckiest girl on the face of the planet. Of all the horrible places I could have lost that ring today – getting out of the car, on the train, in Penn Station – there it was, sitting on my Save The Dates, waiting for me to come home and claim it.

*Huge Sigh of Relief*

It will henceforth live in a plastic baggie until it’s re-set and insured {which, don’t even get me started, there was a big miscommunication between The Groom and The Jeweler and all I’ll say is that he’s going to deal with it because we won’t have enough money to pay for it to be re-set and to bail me out of jail}.


And in the meantime, I’ve come up with a creative solution to being ring-less.


I let James choose the button. He thought I was kidding when I told him he could propose with something from a gumball machine and I’d still say yes. I proved today that I’d walk that walk. What can I say? Even when it comes to buttons, the man has great taste.

xo -MM.


  • [...] You’ll never believe what happened to me on Friday. [...]

  • Nichole Black wrote:

    That was scary. When I saw the empty engagement ring setting this emotion came over me and like when you read a really good book and something good just happened and you can’t wait to see what happens next. You should write a book. Seriously.

  • Sara Pascal wrote:

    Holy crap, I know your panic. I got this ring in France, which means a whole lot to me. Its no engagement ring, of course…but I get the whole attachment and feelings and memories that go along with it. After my Office party last night, I went to a bar afterward with some friends and look down at my finger and its GONE. I started crying right on the spot and my girlfriends with me were trying to console me, but I was just so upset. I walked over 20 blocks in the city that night and when I tried to retrace my steps all I saw was hundreds and hundreds of people walking all over the sidewalks, and my heart sank. All I could picture is someone picking it up and pocketing it, or it being kicked into the gutter. I called the place we were at initially to see if they found a ring, and they said they would check for it. This is as I’m scouring through a foot locker store that I had walked through beforehand. I started to walk back to Penn Station to catch my train back home with probably the saddest look on my face and the place called me back and they found it! Im a lucky girl too :) I’m so glad you found your diamond!

  • OMG. Catching up on your blog posts today and I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FOUND IT. You must have some angel or something watching over you – and I’m not one to say stuff like that.

    Thank you for lighting a fire under my ass to get my ring insured. I’m doing it today.


Post a Comment

Your email is never shared. Required fields are marked *

Powered by WP Hashcash