One night while I was fixing dinner, Roger announced he wanted to get me an engagement ring for Christmas. I tried to continue with the task at hand while I worked through various emotional states – suspicion, disbelief, joy and giddy excitement. 

I casually asked, “Would you like me to help pick it out?”
Roger eagerly shook his head up and down, signaling that he indeed would appreciate any help I was willing to provide.

The next day, he began sending me links to Web sites specializing in diamond rings. I examined the wares carefully. About three things I was sure: I was drawn to princess-cut stones, I did not want a diamond so large it appeared as if I had trouble raising my hand from the weight, and I wanted something uniquely me. About everything else, I was uncertain. 

Many of the rings were dazzling, but the classifications were confusing and I was slightly afraid of ordering a ring sight unseen. Was it good or bad that a diamond was classified as a .40 carat, good cut, G, SI1? And, should a diamond be certified or not? I realized very quickly that I needed to learn a new language.

I had never given much thought to diamonds as I have always considered myself a “pearl girl.” I was aware of the “4 C’s” – carat, cut, color and clarity – but only as far as I could have correctly answered a trivia question asking me to name them. In practice, I doubt that I would have been able to pick out the diamond if one had been placed side by side with cubic zirconium.

It was time to get educated! I began reading the online instructional materials, pouring over descriptions of the color and clarity grades. I studied the grading scales, memorizing the different designations. I researched the two organizations that certify diamonds and considered the pros and cons. The more I learned, the more excited I became about finding the perfect ring. 

After several weeks of cramming my head with diamond jargon, I felt it was time to test my newly acquired knowledge – I was ready to visit jewelry stores. I began locally, stopping in at Saslow’s and The Stone. The staff at both stores humored me as I asked endless questions and tried on numerous rings. 

These first reconnoiters were helpful but frustrating. I had envisioned entering the first store and finding the one. I was disappointed. 

Roger suggested that we plan a trip to Greensboro to visit Jared. I teased that he had been brainwashed by television commercials. 

In all, Roger and I visited eight or nine jewelry stores. I rejected most of the wares based on price alone. At some stores, I felt too pressured by the sales people. At others, I did not receive enough attention. And, at more still, the rings were too ordinary. Roger was very patient throughout our shopping trip, but he was probably concerned that I would not be able to make a selection. Finally, we went to Jared, the store Roger had wanted to visit to begin with, and I found it – the ring I wanted to wear forever.

Roger gave me the ring on Christmas Day. Now, more than two months later, I still catch myself gazing at it in amazement. The ring meets my three requirements. It is a princess-cut stone, it is the perfect size for my hand, and it is uniquely me.  

And, what about my diamond’s “4 C’s?” I honestly have no idea. We have the paperwork if I ever need to know, but I’m not sure it really matters. In the end, I discovered that the various grades and classifications mean little if you do not love the ring and are not excited to wear it and show it off. Yes, I learned the language of diamonds, but made a decision based on the language of love.