I Once Found the Trend of Marrying Yourself Tragic – Until I Bought a £28 Fake Ring and Was Blown Away by Men's Reactions!

MOST of us grow up with the fairytale dream of meeting the perfect man, falling in love and one day being presented with a sparkling engagement ring.

That hasn’t quite been my story.

Samantha Rea, 44, raises a glass as she tries out the growing trend of marrying herself Credit: Sonja Horsman Sam headed to a nail salon for a much-needed manicure Credit: Sonja Horsman

I’ve been proposed to twice before and have turned down engagement rings from men I knew weren’t right for me

As a single woman in my forties, I always assumed the next ring I’d wear would come from Mr Right. I certainly wouldn’t be buying one for myself.

Or so I thought.

After reading about a growing – and rather tragic-sounding – trend where single women splash out on engagement rings for themselves, I decided to try wearing one for the day, just to see what happened.

The reactions were not what I expected.

Apparently, some single women are spending between £1,000 and £3,500 on engagement-style rings as part of the growing , where they make a commitment to love themselves, celebrate their independence or even .

In today’s crazy world where and women now , I yearn for a time when men proposed with a ring and, if the woman accepted, she then wore it to show she was engaged to be married.

So why are so many single women flaunting their self-bought engagement rings on and ?

Content creator Nelly London, 32, who has 716,000 followers on Insta, spent £1,000 on a diamond ring after her of nearly nine years ended.

I can’t imagine anything more depressing.

Yet Nelly was flooded with messages from women who found her inspirational – and she’s not the only one buying her own rock.

“I got engaged to myself because life is too short to find a worthy man,” declared one singleton on Instagram, while another wrote: “I am the love I’ve been waiting for and I’ve honoured myself with a ring.”

Jewellers are reporting an increased interest in women buying their own engagement-style rings, but as a single woman myself, I find the whole thing bewildering and bleak.

If women are buying their own engagement rings, then romance really is dead.

I can only assume these women have lost hope of ever meeting a good guy, because once you’re wearing that “engagement” ring, most decent men aren’t going to chat you up.

And if that doesn’t bother you, then perhaps you’ve already given up on men.

The writer showing off her huge ring which she bought for £28.35 online Credit: Sonja Horsman Sam says the gym is a place where she’s used to being chatted up, but with her shining rock nobody came near her Credit: Sonja Horsman

It’s one thing to buy yourself a ring – although, frankly, I don’t think a woman should ever buy her own – but calling it an engagement ring and wearing it on the fourth finger of your left hand comes across as slightly delusional to me.

But one thing about this trend got me thinking.

Followers of the say that if you want to manifest the car of your dreams, you should go to a showroom and test-drive it so you can picture yourself behind the wheel. Then, supposedly, the universe makes it your reality.

So by that rationale, if I want my dream man to propose to me with my dream engagement ring, perhaps I should simply start wearing a massive rock.

Will the universe then make that my reality? I decided to find out.

I go on freemans.com and start scrolling through their engagement rings. There are more than 200 to choose from, ranging in price from under £20 to more than £3,000.

I want one so blingy that if I scratch my nose, bystanders will have to shield their eyes from the glare.

It also has to be so big that when I wave my hand around, in start sniffing the air, convinced they’ve caught the scent of .

Sam enjoying lunch with her friend Sonja, who celebrated her ‘engagement’ Credit: Sonja Horsman Content creator Nelly London, 32, spent £1,000 on a diamond ring after her relationship of nearly nine years ended Credit: Instagram/_nelly_london

Unfortunately, diamonds like this are out of my price range, so I settle for a princess-cut cubic zirconia ring reduced from £32 to the bargain price of £28.35.

When the little black box arrives, it’s exactly what I’d want to be proposed to with.

But the moment I place the ring on my finger, my attention is drawn to my , which are so many different lengths they resemble the Hong Kong skyline.

So, like all newly engaged women, I head to a nail salon for a much-needed manicure.

As I sit down at Iris Avenue near Tottenham Court Road in London’s West End, I explain my predicament to nail technician Rebekah. She tells me that lots of women wear rings that aren’t “real”.

I confide that I hope my ring is a signal to the universe but, in truth, I’m terrified no men will approach me because this giant gem will put them off.

But Rebekah tells me that when she got engaged, men continued to ask her out. In fact, it’s even continued since she’s been married. Maybe I shouldn’t be too worried.

Pleased with my pretty pink manicure, I leave to hail a cab to Covent Garden.

While I’m waiting, a scabby-looking man in his mid-forties who’s eating an egg sandwich stops and says: “I wouldn’t normally do this, but would you go out for a drink with me? Maybe one weekend when your other half’s away?”

Eurgh. As if. While I want men to approach me, I’m certainly not interested in meeting those who are happy to cheat.

I finally arrive for lunch with my friend Sonja, who has come to celebrate my “engagement”. But it isn’t long before I spot a lookalike sitting in a nearby booth.

My friend tells me he keeps looking over, only to turn away whenever I clock him.

Normally, when a guy’s interested, he’ll come over to me or send a bottle to my table, but this guy does nothing.

He’s clearly noticed my massive rock, but there’s no way I can tell him I’ve bought the ring myself, because how mad would that sound?

I’d rather Jason think I’m unavailable rather than unhinged, so I finish my tiramisu and leave. Then, stepping out into the sunlight, I walk smack-bang into a handsome gentleman wearing a gilet.

Like something from a film, we laugh nervously and lock eyes. But as his gaze moves to my left hand, his expression changes slightly.

“He’s a lucky guy,” he says. This ring has scuppered my chances – again.

Later that evening, before heading home I dropped into Pure Gym Piccadilly to take out my frustrations.

The is a place where I’m used to being chatted up, but with my shining rock reflecting in the mirrors, nobody comes near me.

It’s then that I decide that, as much as I love my super-bling ring, I won’t be wearing it anymore.

Yes it made me feel more glamorous, especially with my newly polished nails, but the reality is that no decent guy will approach you if he thinks you’re taken.

Instead, I’ll keep my ring finger free and hold out for the real deal.