The Holy Trinity of Coco, Louis, and Tiffany

"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination." -Oscar Wilde

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"Oh, my Lord, isn't that beautiful!" I cooed to Corey as we peered into the glass case at Tiffany & Co.

Corey looked at me and murmered a guessed price. Having looked at the same ring weeks prior, I murmered back. "You're close. Give or take a grand." We shared knowing smiles and walked on.

When my Corey come to town, we occasionally trip to Green Hills Mall, which in a town of malls (seriously, Nashville has like twenty malls) is the elite of the elite. Green Hills boasts a Tiffany's, a Louis Vuitton, and a Burberry, just to name a few. In a mall where money and status symbols reign, Corey and I love to just soak it in and pretend we belong there. (Ignoring the fact that two liberal wannabe hipsters probably will never belong in the Blue Blood Society, of course.)

"It's really not bad, considering that's like, what, a 2 carat diamond?" Corey asked. I nodded, Starbucks straw still in my mouth.

"You know, I pointed that ring out to John last time I was here," I commented. "Do you know what he said?"

Corey looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"He said," I paused for emphasis, "that there was no way a ring should cost the same amount of money as the down payment on a home."

Corey gave me a look. Not meant for me, but for my poor boyfriend. The Look was the same Look the prom queen gives the valet. The Look said it simply: How could he possibly be so simple?

"Wow," Corey said. "He didn't Get It. It's Tiffany's."

"Exactly," I said, glad someone shared my shock, and personal sense of offense that someone could possibly accuse Tiffany's of being over priced. It was simply worth it, wasn't it?

"Well, when you and John are married, and I have a fabulous boyfriend, we will have to go shopping together and leave those nagging wives at home," Corey declared. With a rich Southern drawl, he added, "And when we are rich, we shall buy you two of those rings, dahling; one shall be in platinum and one in yellow gold so that you can tickle your fancy however the day carries you."

I grinned, happily. We walked around further, commenting on this or that, including the $895 pea coat and Burberry that Corey tried on and had to be persuaded to take off, commenting, "That price is very doable." We argued over what was made for a more prestigious and impressive pair of sunglasses, the Burberry or Louis Vuitton logo, who made a better men's wallet: Coach or Chanel, and bemoaned the lack of a Dolce and Gabbanna in town.

Later that night, I came home to my beat up car that I can't drive over 30 miles an hour, the empty refrigerator, and my too-small bed.

Yes, John is the dreamer in our relationship. Yes, most of the time he has to tell me to quit being so practical, when he talks about things to do and see and experience in our lives together and I ask how to arrange it around our jobs and responsibilities. But that day, I realized I'm more of a dreamer than I knew. It's just a different type of dream.