Will he? Won’t he? Is that big diamond engagement ring just a ‘humiliation ring’?

An engagement ring has long been seen as the ultimate symbol of commitment—a promise of everlasting love and companionship. And while most people will swear the size doesn’t matter, social culture keeps whispering the opposite: the bigger the diamond, the bigger the commitment. And we've all been witness to the snide comments that a relatively smaller stone can spark (cue in The Summer I Turned Pretty). So, does an enormous diamond automatically mean absolute commitment? What if that blinding diamond isn’t just romance, but redemption?

When Cristiano Ronaldo bought his long-time girlfriend—and mother of his child—a blindingly monumental diamond ring, was it a sign he was finally ready to commit? Does the size of the stone erase years of waiting and uncertainty? 

We’ve all seen it: those jaw-dropping diamonds that suddenly appear on Instagram after months (or even years) of “Are they still together?” In cases like this, the engagement ring risks becoming a "humiliation ring." It’s less about romance and more about timing, presenting it like a reward or a sparkling apology after public doubt, fights, or heartbreak. The humiliation is swept under the rug, conveniently hidden beneath a few carats of glittering reassurance.

So why a humiliation ring? Because it doesn’t arrive during the happy, steady days of love. It lands after the messy part—after she’s been left wondering if he’ll ever commit, after she’s endured the withdrawal, the rumours, the cold silence. By the time the diamond shows up, she’s already emotionally wrung out. And suddenly, the pain becomes part of the love story. The humiliation isn’t erased; it's merely packaged as the “journey” that made the reward possible. 

If it sounds like the plot of a heartbreakingly beautiful movie, trust me, it is exactly that. Think about The Summer I Turned Pretty. Belly might not have gotten the big glittering diamond, but even then, the commitment came after the humiliation; after Jeremiah confessed to sleeping with someone else, not once but twice, while they were on a very brief break. While she sat with the heartache of that so-called break, he devoured it with an affair, and used the ring as redemption to win her back. 

Look at Leap Year. Amy Adams’ character had been in a relationship for four years—clear, stable, adult-level relationship goals. So her expecting him to propose was not a far-fetched idea. Sadly, the proposal only came when it was convenient to him: his promotion, their dream apartment, perfect timing for his convenience. Again, the ring arrives after a period of waiting, disappointment, and emotional tension.

Even Titanic makes the list. Think about the stunning blue diamond necklace. It was the ultimate symbol of desire and obsession. And although it wasn't technically an engagement ring, it still embodied the same “reward after longing” dynamic: withheld, coveted, and ultimately transformative. The principle is the same: delay makes devotion and desire feel more intoxicating.

And let’s not forget Carrie Bradshaw and Mr Big. Their engagement in Sex and the City didn’t happen overnight. Years of on-and-off dating, breakups, and emotional suspense left Carrie questioning whether Big would ever truly commit. Like Rose in Titanic, Carrie too got a closet instead of a big fat diamond ring (in this case, it's what she actually wanted) as a form of redemption, that too because she asked for it. Her walk-in closet was a metaphorical humiliation ring that was a reward for her endurance. The waiting, the heartbreak, the uncertainty: all of it made the final commitment feel monumental.

Psychologists have a name for this: intermittent reinforcement. Basically, when affection is withheld and then suddenly delivered in full-blown, jaw-dropping fashion, it hits harder, feels more addictive. It’s the same trick that keeps people glued to slot machines; you never know when the jackpot’s coming, so you hang on tighter. In relationships, it plays out as waiting, doubting, surviving the tension, and then finally being handed the “prize,” often in the form of a ring. The twist? It trains women to believe that their endurance equals love, when really it’s a setup for control.

A woman who swallows her disappointment gets labelled selfless, while the one who speaks up is branded as demanding. Society loves to sell us the idea that true love means settling, that you have to put your dignity on hold in the name of devotion. That’s exactly how the humiliation ring works—it’s not just a piece of jewellery, it’s a power move, tying affection to endurance and making scarcity feel like something glamorous.

Pop culture obviously eats this up with fairy tales, rom-coms, and even blockbuster love stories, all teaching us that humiliation is just the necessary prelude to happily-ever-after. But let’s be real, love that only shows up after prolonged pain is not a fairy tale; it’s a strategy. It’s endurance being packaged as virtue, and humiliation as romance. 

Maybe it’s time to ask: should devotion really be measured in carats, or is love worth having the kind that doesn’t need to sparkle at someone else’s expense?

Lead image: Leap Year/IMDb

Also read: Taylor Swift finally posted couple pics with Travis Kelce… and yup, they’re engagement photos

Also read: Elsie Hewitt and Pete Davidson make a playful red carpet debut post baby reveal