What started as a sweet, romantic gesture somehow turned into one of the most memorable—and painfully awkward—moments of our lives.

Before our trip to Paris, we decided we wanted to place a lock on one of the city’s famous love lock bridges. I found an old, unique lock and carved our initials into it, which felt very romantic and symbolic at the time.

When we arrived at the bridge, we attached our lock among the thousands of colorful locks left behind by other couples. Then, in true romantic fashion, we tossed the key into the Seine, officially locking in our love forever.

Or at least that was what I thought the big romantic moment was.

Apparently, Sarah had other plans.

As I stood gazing over the bridge, admiring the beautiful city and feeling extremely pleased with our symbolic declaration of love, Sarah began rummaging through her bag behind me. I heard something drop, turned around, and saw her standing there silently with a shiny object in her hand.

Naturally, I asked the most romantic question possible:

“What’s that?”

Sarah replied, “Well, I knew you wanted a diamond.”

I stared at her.

She stared at me.

The diamond stared at both of us.

After several seconds of complete silence, during which I attempted to determine whether I was being proposed to, given a gift, or unexpectedly recruited into a jewelry commercial, I finally asked:

“Well…what does this mean?”

In true Sarah fashion, she responded:

“Well, what do you want it to mean?”

Nothing prepares you for being asked to define your own proposal in real time.

This was clearly my opportunity to say something heartfelt and life-changing.

Instead, I said:

“I don’t know.”

Somewhere nearby, a French couple probably witnessed the whole thing and immediately felt better about their own relationship.

So there we were, standing on a love lock bridge in Paris—the romance capital of the world—holding a diamond ring and apparently negotiating the terms and conditions of our own engagement.

Sarah eventually asked if I liked the ring.

Still completely shocked and unsure whether I had just become engaged, I responded with the enthusiasm of someone reviewing an average sandwich:

“It’s okay.”

Yes. Sarah surprised me with a diamond ring in Paris, and my official review was, “It’s okay.”

Rather than throwing me into the Seine, she calmly replied, “Well, if you don’t like it, we can take it back and get you a different one.”

Because nothing says romance like discussing the return policy during a proposal.

Despite my less-than-fairytale reaction, I put the ring on my finger that day and wore it for the entire trip. It was slightly too large, so I had to hold it in place with another finger while walking around Paris, terrified that my new possibly-engagement ring would fly off my hand and join the key at the bottom of the Seine.

I have never taken it off since.

Looking back, I cannot believe that was my reaction to one of the sweetest and most romantic gestures imaginable. A normal woman probably would have cried, screamed, hugged her partner, or at least said something more enthusiastic than, “It’s okay.”

But then again, we have never been normal women.

Our love was officially locked in forever that day.

Our engagement status, however, required additional clarification.