Elegant Engagement Ring

My ex and I were together for four years. Three and a half years in, things had been tanking for about six months. She got offered the opportunity (through her incredibly interfering family) for a great job in a part of the UK that I had absolutely zero desire to live in. Being the mug that I am, I sorted out a transfer, paid for most of the move, let her talk me into thinking that this would be just what our relationship needed. She started the job, the employment terms turned out to be for way less money than her brother and her employer had told her. Fine. Swallowed that. Worked more hours, had my promotion confirmed. Kept us afloat. Paid all the bills. All the time she’s pushing me away, withholding affection (not just sex, but hugs, kisses, any contact – kicking me onto the sofa a lot) telling me I don’t show her I love her enough. Bollocks I don’t. But I push it down. Keep trying to be better. She stops me going out with friends, seeing people I like, puts me on a curfew. Has no appreciation for the fact that my work means I get home at gone midnight some days and need to cook food, eat, generally unwind when I get in. I walk two and half miles to and from work every day, and often work weekends. She has weekends off, and can drive (I can’t) the car that I helped pay for. I have to beg and plead for a lift, and she still says no 95% of the time. You’d think after two of the last four years being like this that I’d have walked away by now. But I’m a tenacious sod. I loved this girl, despite how she was hurting me. Then a week before Christmas she tells me she’s breaking up with me. After uprooting my life, moving hundreds of miles to a place I hate and can’t afford to move out of. And she can’t afford to live alone either. So now we’re broken up, forced to live together for the last six months (seperate rooms thank god – guess who ended up on a single bed in the box room? That’s right, muggins over here). But in four days time I’m moving back home with my folks, pride be damned. My link to this girl will be gone, and I’ve demanded the engagement ring I gave to her back, and given her back the one she gave to me. I thought about re-using it on a future girlfriend, but decided that would be pretty crappy for the girl involved. And frankly, I don’t want to see it again. Which is why option #2 (mounting it on to a plaque reminding me that all lesbians – myself included – are a little crazy and to be more careful) is out. So I’m putting on sale for here.