Like most young women, I dreamed about meeting my Prince Charming who would sweep me off my feet and marry me. Of course, he would propose with a diamond ring befitting his princess. I had mine all picked out. A heart-shaped diamond in a plain white gold band (because I wasn't savvy enough yet to want platinum).
When I met Wingman, my list of suit-wearing, corporate job holding requirements went right out the window
because he was in a band. But that didn't stop me from wanting that ring. As time went on and friend after friend got engaged and married, I got more and more agitated. When was it going to happen to me?
