CON

Money cannot buy health, but I’d settle for a diamond-studded wheelchair.

—Dorothy Parker

I have been called a sparkle diva and a glitter critter and a magpie. The fashion world’s current preoccupation with all things sparkly is only just catching up to me. Bejewelled shoes, rhinestone pins, twinkling earrings—I’ve been wearing them for ages, darling. Glass, rhinestone, crystal, diamond, zircon, ruby, emerald—I’ve donned the faux and the real, the precious and the semi.

But three days ago I was given the most beautiful bit of dazzle for my finger that I have ever seen: an engagement ring of diamonds and a single sapphire. Yes! Tyler asked me to marry him!

So began my search for my inner bride, my search to uncover the true meaning of holy matrimony. It has always made me feel slightly nauseous to read about the latest teenaged celebrity sporting a huge diamond engagement ring that cost as much as a small mansion. And I can’t stand shallow chicks who flash their rocks at the grocery store as if proud to be owned by someone who can afford such a thing. I was pleasantly surprised to find a ring with a difference in that little box. A large, clear, deep-blue gem surrounded by twenty or so little diamonds, all displayed in a classic gold setting. It matched my eyes, Tyler said. And it spoke of his unending love for me.

He told me he’d searched long and hard for this ring. Knowing I’m not a traditional sort, he didn’t want to give me a traditional ring. Indeed, long-held customs often ring empty in the smiling face of love. Give me true love, not rote vows; give me fresh sparkle, not dusty old traditions; give me your heavenly self, not your hell-bent ego. Take me to the altar, but take me daily with your passionate, unbridled loving.

You see, a nicely cut but generic diamond in a nicely appointed but generic setting would not do. Not to mention that the price of such a nicely turned-out ring could feed a family of four for years. Hence the regal sapphire and her circle of dazzling friends.

Last night Ty’s band was the entertainment at a party I attended, and I wore that humungous hunk of hot-pink crystal I’d conjured with orgasmic spells. Next to it sat my new engagement ring. Pink dazzle threatened to upstage its blue glow, but the engagement ring far outshone the pink bauble with a glorious purity of refracted light and a depth of radiance that was downright heavenly.

The very giving of this ring was an expression of love. And that’s my idea of marriage: a daily expression of love and faith and trust. If you truly love and trust your partner, then you need no legal binding, no formal vows, no signing of contracts, no flashing of jewelry. Then, and only then, can you hold a ceremony with words (vows) and gestures (kisses) and objects (rings and papers) to share your divine and everlasting love with friends and family, or simply whisper the affirmation to each other.