Letting your man select your ring can result in a lifetime of resentment

The gift of an engagement ring – that surprise sparkler, proffered on one knee – has traditionally been seen as the ultimate reflection of love.

But it’s no longer a gesture that’s guaranteed to please. Many women now want a say in the bling that will adorn their hand ’till death us do part’, not least because they are happy to help pay for it.

A recent poll by the Natural Diamond Council suggested two-thirds of couples choose their engagement ring together.

So it may surprise you to hear that a twentysomething influencer has gone viral for insisting every sensible modern woman should let her man make the choice totally alone – because it’s a sign that he truly cherishes you. TikTok user Jacqueline Monroe claims brides who demand input are missing a trick, with her video explaining why racking up more than 278,000 likes.

So who’s right? We asked six writers to share their own very distinct views on the best path to wedded bliss.

I DESIGNED MINE – AND MY HUSBAND’S, TOO

By Flora Gill

I love it when couples go ring shopping together, it feels like a good foreshadowing of the collaborative life they plan to lead.

But because I was proposing to my boyfriend, I did it alone, designing my ring with help from the women at Fenton, the jewellers. I went for both our birthstones – a tanzanite and emerald – sitting beside one another on a gold band. And hidden in the gallery beneath the stones are our initials, an A & F.

I also designed him a ring with tiny stones on the inside to match my own one.

I adored the whole process. It was the first part of getting married that felt truly special, and made me realise that, as much as I’d claimed otherwise, it was more than just signing a piece of paper.

I don’t think it would have given my husband an equal feeling of anticipatory joy though, in the same way that he wasn’t that into picking florals or tableware for our wedding. To him, it’s all just window dressing, not the part that really matters.

My husband knows all the important things about me – my secret dreams, my embarrassing stories, and the exact type of chocolate I need when my voice wobbles and I claim ‘everything’s fine’. But I would never trust him to pick out something I plan to wear for the rest of my life.

Women who boastfully say their partners got them their perfect ring are either incredibly delusional or had been dropping obvious hints for years prior to the proposal (a solid plan in my opinion).

By designing it myself, I’ve got a ring I don’t have to pretend to like – one I’m positive my husband wouldn’t have picked. I don’t look down at my hand and resent a partner who didn’t know me well enough. And as for his version? He professes to love it but it’s currently too small . . . so I’m wearing both.

IT WAS SO AWFUL THAT I PRETENDED IT DIDN’T FIT

By Liz Jones

Of course you should never allow a man to purchase an engagement ring unsupervised. You can’t even send him to Waitrose without an annotated list, with photos, and not expect a huge faux pas like cow’s milk instead of oat.

So, the idea that the male species is capable of navigating a jeweller’s, knowing your ring size and taste, is laughable.

My ex-husband didn’t even bother to purchase me an engagement ring, thank the Lord, given he spent his entire life in a nylon Brazil football shirt. After we were married, he did, out of guilt for cheating, buy me a ‘friendship’ ring, though. Thanks for that.

We went to my favourite jeweller in Soho, Jess James, and while he pointed out a yellow diamond, I chose a platinum ring with diamond chips. I think it cost him the advance for his novel – £2,000.

My first proper engagement ring, from my ex-boyfriend David, cost £21.99. I know this as I found the receipt twice: a paper one in his holdall, a virtual one in his email inbox.

When I challenged him on its provenance, while we were in Paris and dangerously near Cartier, he lied that it cost £40 (not much better), and was a ‘token’. He seemed outraged I had expected something that cost more than a loaf of bread from Ottolenghi.

A few years later, at Christmas, David presented me with a yellow gold ring with a diamond in a claw setting.

No! It has to be a bezel setting – far more sophisticated.

It was from a pawn shop in Denmark Hill, south London, and cost £392. It was too small. How wrong could he be? I told him my knuckles put on weight during lockdown and refused to wear it.

I marched him to a jeweller’s the day after Boxing Day to upgrade it. ‘What’s your budget? The usual amount is a month’s salary, or in your case a month’s pension.’

‘Well, after bills and rent, there’s not much left.’

‘It’s not supposed to be after bills!’

We never did tie the knot. The whole point of a ring is to show they mean it. You should want to show it off, not hide it under a plaster. And unless your boyfriend knows his marquise from his princess cut, a woman is safer choosing herself.

RECEIVING A SPARKLER MADE ME FEEL ADORED

By Adele Parks

Twenty years ago, I was in Japan and it was cherry-blossom season. My boyfriend and I were mooching around an ancient temple, when he got down on one knee and whipped out the most beautiful baguette-cut diamond on a platinum band. Reader, I married him.

I loved the ring. It was entirely me and I adored listening to how he’d designed it and found someone to make it, going to great lengths to surprise me.

I felt cherished, and it gave the moment I committed my life to him just the right gravitas.

Every bride-to-be should get to enjoy the thrill of her partner taking the romantic lead on choosing the ring.

Later, he asked whether I really liked mine. I did, but if I had not, I would have discussed the matter with him. With a lifetime ahead of us, I knew we’d have harder conversations than one about the design of a piece of jewellery.

I have heard women say: ‘It isn’t what I’d have picked out, but I love it.’ That is valid and beautiful, not anti-feminist but pro-partnership.

If you honestly love the care and thought he put into the selection (and therefore love the solitaire when you were secretly hoping for a pave), then you are in a great place. That attitude shows deep love and respect for each other.

I do wonder why people now feel a need to control every aspect of their relationships, especially the aesthetics. Is it the result of the Instagram world we live in? Is your ring a symbol of love or a status symbol?

MY MOTHER-IN-LAW’S DIAMOND WAS PERFECT

By Rowan Pelling

Like most men, my husband would rather stick a fork in his eye than have to second-guess my personal taste in jewellery.

Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to buy me an engagement ring as he already had his late mother’s modestly sized, solitaire diamond, set in platinum, to present to me – a spookily perfect fit. But I’ve had countless conversations with my girlfriends about their own horror stories.

One was given an expensive ruby ring she found so ‘vulgar and bling’ that she burst into tears and declared she’d never wear it (to my knowledge, she never has and the wedding is yet to take place six years later).

Another, who’s far from materialistic under usual circumstances, was so underwhelmed by her ‘teensy-tinsy rock’ that she told me in private she was embarrassed to wear it because it looked like it came from a cracker. If only her husband had followed the example of a clever male friend of mine, who knew getting the entire ring right was far beyond his manly nous.

Instead, he went to a sapphire specialist to choose a stone that mirrored his beloved’s startling blue eyes. A week later, he went down on one knee at the club where they first met with just the stone encased in a jewellery box, and she wept with joy on the dance floor.

A properly thoughtful demonstration of love trumps a diamond – even one that’s as big as the Ritz.

I’D WEAR A HORROR TO MAKE MY MAN HAPPY

By Libby Purves

When it comes to the topic of engagement rings, I am always reminded of an episode of Sex And The City in which Carrie discovers an engagement ring in her boyfriend Aidan’s gym bag.

She is horrified to find a pear-shaped diamond on a yellow band, and moans to her girlfriends about the misfortune of having a boyfriend who clearly doesn’t know her taste: ‘How can I marry a guy who doesn’t know which ring is me?’

Poor Aidan ends up forced to produce something chicer.

I have no doubt some women would wholeheartedly sympathise with Carrie’s plight, but as the survivor of 44 years of marriage without ever having an engagement ring (my choice), I’m stunned by this.

I don’t like wearing rings as they tend to catch on things (not least bits of rigging-wire when you’re on a sailing boat foredeck).

But if I had hooked up with a traditional type, loved him dearly and suddenly been presented with a misshapen emerald nastily set in claws, or some fiddly Victorian horror from his great-granny, I’d have accepted with grace.

Ultimately, a man putting time and effort into finding a ring he hopes you’ll like is a sweet and romantic gesture. And not one that requires micromanaging by a high-maintenance bride who thinks it should go with her Louboutin heels and designer bag.

THERE WAS NO WAY I WANTED TO BE ‘BOUGHT’

By Maggie Alderson

When you consider how far we have come towards achieving sexual equality, it beggars belief that a man is still expected to give a valuable piece of jewellery to secure an engagement to the woman of his choice. Perhaps he should throw in some goats and a couple of camels, too.

When I got engaged to my husband 23 years ago, we hadn’t long moved back to the UK from Australia and he was still building up his business here – so I was, at that point, the bigger earner.

Yet, according to the norm, he would still be expected to gouge his finances to buy me a ring.

In our case, though, he never had to do the proposal thing. Marriage was an idea we discussed and agreed upon together, and I told him categorically I didn’t want an engagement ring. We sealed the deal with a kiss.

Why didn’t I want one? Because to accept an expensive gift in return for agreeing to spend the rest of my life with someone – and share all my worldly goods with them, because that works both ways now – would make me feel bought. I didn’t need to wear a visual signal that someone had paid for me. I wasn’t for sale.

Of course, I’ve got nothing against beautiful jewellery – and I wear a diamond eternity ring as a symbol of my commitment to my husband. He has a classic gold wedding ring. We bought them for each other, in an equal exchange. This is what many gay couples do when they get engaged and it’s time the rest of us caught up.