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We were floating on a luxury boat in Positano on a golden afternoon, with a Prosecco in hand, over water sparkling like it knew it was being watched. It was the kind of trip I’d dreamed about for years, one that I’d had pinned on my ‘Wanderlust’ Pinterest board since I was 21: a romantic European summer with the love of my life. Bliss, right?
And yet, there I was, quietly spiralling because there was absolutely zero sign of an engagement ring.
I wasn’t spiralling because of anything my partner had done. Or because I was questioning how he felt about me. We know where we stand, and talk about our future often so I know it’s coming, but still, something had shifted the mood. My mood.
“Each message lodged itself in my brain like a ticking clock. A countdown I hadn’t set, but somehow felt responsible for meeting.”
It was subtle at first. A text from a friend saying, “Omg, imagine if you get engaged in Italy!” Then it was amessage from a family member excitedly saying, “Tell him to hurry up, we’re all waiting!” and then the DMs, hundreds of them, came pouring in. “Is this the trip??” one person asked, with another saying, “I’m manifesting a proposal for you!” The message was loud and clear, and it said, “Surely it’s happening soon?”
Each one was sent with love. But each one chipped away at my peace. I’d show Ned the messages and we’d laugh, joke about how I couldn’t open Instagram without being digitally proposed to on his behalf. But soon, I wasn’t laughing anymore. Instead, I was agitated. Resentful. Embarrassed. And honestly? A little anxious.
I found myself mentally scanning each day for proposal potential, even though I rationally knew that this wasn’t the trip.
We were in Italy to celebrate someone else’s wedding. A wedding Ned was MCing, and it’s not his style to steal the spotlight (rightfully so), and yet, every romantic dinner brought a flicker of hope. Every scenic overlook felt like a potential Instagram engagement backdrop. Quickly, I wasn’t living in the moment; I was trapped in a loop of what ifs.
“I wasn’t relieved when nothing happened. I was disappointed in myself for feeling disappointed.”
Because the truth is, nobody wants it to happen more than me. But the pressure, both external and internal, was beginning to ruin what should’ve been a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. It was a trip that didn’t need a diamond to be meaningful, so I asked myself what was I actually feeling.
Was it embarrassment? Maybe. Shame creeps in when people are waiting for something you can’t deliver. Like I’d been cast in a rom-com, and the final act — the one with the tears, the ring, and the flash mob (Ned, if you’re reading this: please no flash mob) -— had been delayed.
Was it fear? Absolutely. I turn 38 in October, so if we want to have children — and we do — we’ll need to get a wriggle on. I’ve already frozen my eggs and have (mostly) made peace with the fact that my path to motherhood may not look like I once imagined. But still, every month without a ring feels like one less domino falling into place.
“There’s the biological clock — but now it feels like I have a digital engagement alarm going off, too.”
And look, I get it. Engagements are exciting. Joyful. Instagrammable. A way to celebrate love and commitment in a world that sometimes forgets to celebrate the good stuff. But what I’ve learned is this: pressure doesn’t always come from inside the relationship. It seeps in from the edges, disguised as hope, curiosity, and excitement.
And that pressure can make a woman doubt herself.
I started questioning everything. Had he thought about it? Did he not want to? Were we on the same page, or had I misread all the signs? Suddenly, it didn’t matter how many conversations we’d had about our future, about rings and kids and forever — I felt off-balance. Like I was waiting to be chosen, despite the fact I already had been.
“Our love is not on hold. Our future is not delayed. And my worth is not measured by a sparkly (oval, please) rock.”
I know I’m not alone and I know there are women reading this in beautiful, healthy relationships who still feel like they’re behind. Who feel the weight of invisible deadlines or have been told — explicitly or not — that their love doesn’t count unless it comes with a ring and a hashtag. It’s exhausting.
So I’m writing this not just for me, but for you too.
Let’s normalise being wildly in love and not yet engaged. Let’s stop treating proposals like content. Let’s remember that timing is personal and a ring doesn’t validate a relationship — the connection does. The love, loyalty, consistency, the unwavering support no matter what life throws at you — that is what’s important.
For what it’s worth, I know my proposal will come. I know it will be thoughtful and intimate, and perfectly us. I also know that when it does, I’ll be ready. (Let’s be real: I’ve been ready since we said “I love you” and got matching tattoos ten days in.)
But I’m done letting strangers on the internet dictate my timeline and letting lovely-but-loaded questions cloud my joy. And I’m definitely done scanning every Italian sunset for someone on one knee.
So to everyone wondering when it’s happening… it is happening. Just not today. And that’s okay.
Because today, I’m here. In love. Living the dream I once thought I’d missed out on.
And that is enough for me.
The post ‘Are You Engaged Yet?’ Was The Question That Haunted My European Summer appeared first on ELLE.
