It’s a pretty, tasteful ring. The diamond sits between two peridots. It looks like it belongs on her finger.

Is it hypocritical that this woman, who claimed she wouldn’t have chosen a diamond engagement herself, is now wearing one? Is it ironic or somehow a blow to feminism that a woman who didn’t want a diamond now has one only because another woman didn’t want one?

Hell, no.

When I mention that I was once engaged forever ago, people always ask what became of the ring. I told a couple of my old girlfriends, women who knew Patrick while we were engaged, about this my-old-ring-is-now-her-new-ring development. One expressed shock that a woman could wear even part of a ring that had been meant for another girl. This woman, a scientist and die-hard atheist, argued with me, saying, "Isn’t that just so unlucky?"

Things are, and will remain, just things. They're passive. But forging a meaning for something isn't passive. It's active; a creative process. That's why I think it’s exciting that someone found a happy use for that lonely stone. We all owe it to ourselves to make our own decisions, forge our own meanings.

I’m thirty-two years old and have never felt the marriage itch. My years as a serial monogamist have suited me just fine. And with divorce, blended families, and same-sex partnerships so common, I’ve often wondered if our society has outgrown traditional matrimony. I used to think that maybe I should just avoid it at all costs. That seemed like the smartest thing to do.

Then I read something Andrea pointed out in a column: this is actually an exciting time for the institution of marriage. A lot of married people she knows, she says, “really are figuring out something new.” Our generation gets “to be part of a new vanguard of couples redefining what it means to be husband and wife (or husband and husband, or wife and wife), building partnerships that are founded on romantic love, equality, and shared goals instead of politics, convenience, or obligation.”

When I read that, I smacked my desk so hard I spilled some wine. Andrea had nailed it: marriage as an institution is just another thing, and while it can be passive, the process of finding meaning in it, and what we ultimately get from it, isn't. I’m embarrassed to report that I felt a weird pride in her accomplishment, as if by dating Patrick ten years ago, I’d had some tiny, butterfly-flaps-its-wings-in-Madagascar effect on this cool lady’s life.

So, Andrea: thank you for your perspective, and congratulations on your wedding. I’ve never thought of myself as a feminist — just as an independent person who thinks for herself. But because of you, I’ve realized that those things are one and the same. I don’t need to burn my bras or eschew sparkles. Reading your work has brought me closer to who I am.

P.S. I should add that in the month since I began writing this piece (prompted by the discovery of your column), my boyfriend proposed to me. I said yes. And we moved, of all places, to your city.

I’d like to buy you a whiskey.