As a man, I’ve never particularly cared about the engagement ring. While the women all ogle over the thing, I stand back with the rest of the guys and laugh at the poor bastard who spent all his poker money for the next 20 years. (Let’s face it though, it’s not like she’s going to let him play poker ever again anyway.)
Now that I’m in that spot, I can see just how quickly things spiral out of control.
It wasn’t 2 minutes into looking at the first store when the first vulture stopped circling and rested down on us. I don’t take the term vulture lightly here, either. Some are nicer than others, but at the end of they day, they look at all us men as dead meat available for the taking.
I’ll never forget the moment she pulled out the “box of extras” from below the display case. That’s the moment when I knew my carcass was being picked apart for every loose morsel.
Who needs 5 diamonds on an engagement ring anyway? Seriously, people, when was 1 not enough anymore?