Diamonds. Rubies. Sapphires. Pearls.


There is very little I miss about my (ex)husband.I don’t miss the unmistakable sound of his good shoes clomping up the staircases to our third floor apartment. I don’t miss the way he flopped around the bed tossing and turning all night, some nights being so floppy, I would have to take my pillow and blanket and sleep on the couch. I don’t miss seeing his hunched body over the computer screen for 6 hours a night doing God knows what. I don’t miss his ten million newspapers cluttering up our small Brooklyn apartment or the pile of wire hangers he had to return to the dry cleaners each week. I don’t miss his smile. I don’t miss his laugh. I don’t miss his scent. I don’t miss his voice.

But I can not tell a lie.

I do miss the jewelry.

Please don’t get the wrong idea. I am not a materialistic gal by any stretch of the imagination. I live in a tiny apartment. I shop for my clothing at The Gap. I drive a Honda Civic. The basics–and I am and have always been very happy with the basics. I didn’t grow up wealthy, so I was never used to anything extravagant anyway. Even my Engagement ring wasn’t something to die over. It was a simple 3/4 carat princess diamond with a plain white gold band. He put it on a credit card. That’s before he started making the big money and buying me the big gifts.

A pair of diamond earrings for our first Christmas together after we were engaged.

A sapphire and diamond “evil eye” bracelet for our second Christmas together. (I’m half Turkish, I believe in that shit…)

A diamond snowflake necklace for our third Christmas together.

Matching pearl necklace and bracelet for my first Mother’s Day.

And the anniversary gifts…

I can’t count the little blue boxes with the white bows that are scattered around my jewelry drawers. Every girl’s heart melts just a little when she gets one of those. You know whatever it is, it’s gonna be good.


Several pairs of earrings. Bangles. A silver cross on a chain. Never got a Tiffany’s ring, but we were only married for five years before he ran out on me.

And the very last Christmas gift he gave to me exactly one month before he served me with divorce papers evicting me from my home on the day I was diagnosed with cancer? A tremendously gorgeous white sapphire and diamond ring that blew the shit out of my engagement ring and any other piece of jewelry he gifted me during our marriage.

So, dear (ex)husband, I don’t miss your insanely loud and slightly worrisome monologues while you shower. I don’t miss washing your socks and boxers. I don’t miss cooking, cleaning and keeping things neat for you to come home to.

But, darling, I miss the jewels. I can only pray that the next female you start buying them for is our daughter. Because she deserves them more than the next wife.


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