My Wedding Ring

This is a piece I wrote over a year ago.  I found it, and realized it is not posted publicly.  So, here it is, just as I wrote it back then.

When I was growing up, I was subjected to the usually comical routine of the Wedding Ring Dropped Down the Drain. The ring would be dropped or put or misplaced somewhere ridiculously difficult to get to, and the rest of the show/episode/story would play out the mishappenings of whoever was supposed to retrieve it, usually before Significant Other found out it was lost.

I was never understanding of why the wedding ring was a big deal. Then I learned how much they can cost… and “realized” that losing a wedding ring was the equivalent of accidentally dropping thousands of dollars into the sewer, never to be seen again. And that, to me, was the justification for said attempts at retrieval of said item.

I had been thinking recently, looking at the wedding ring on my left hand, thinking of my wife, gone thousands of miles away. I find it interesting to note that until now, I never ever considered the emotional attachment of a wedding ring.

I began to think and realize how important it was for me to have and to wear it, especially while my wife is so far away. And then I started to realize exactly how important it is to my life, what it does for my peace of mind. It’s become a part of me, a ritual I live through everyday that keeps me going while my wife is gone.

Then, as I went through the days, I started noticing in greater detail the attention I paid to my ring during a normal day.

First, I sleep with it on. I used to not do that, it was weird wearing it at all. But what I realized that without it on, in my sleep, as I missed my wife, my thumb would check the bottom of my ring finger to ensure it was there, that she was not a dream, and when it wasn’t I HAD to wake up and check the nightstand to make sure it was there still, that I hadn’t misplaced it. It wasn’t long before I needed to wear it. I would feel its cornered edge against my thumb, and go back to sleep immediately.

I won’t wear it in the shower. That’s weird… I don’t know what the effects of soap and shampoo and water are on jewelry, but for some reason I’m afraid it will rust or something. (I don’t think gold does that, but, meh.) But, when I do take it off, I place it next to my glasses so I won’t forget where it is, and I won’t put it back on until I’ve showered, brushed my teeth, shaved, and put gel in my hair, so that way I can wash my hand clean of everything, and put my ring back on.

There were a couple times while I was in a rush when I didn’t grab my ring right away, getting dressed before heading back to the bathroom to perform the latter actions above. And until I started paying attention, I never realized my thumb was constantly checking the ring finger again, as if it were missing something. I do it every time my ring isn’t on.

As I drive to work, if I drive with my windows down, my hand will tap the side of the vehicle while driving. The metallic “chink” of my ring against the car reassures me that it is on there. I am also very careful to not point my hand downward, so as to not allow it possibly slip away. (It won’t ever do that, it’s a firm fit, but it was an unconscious movement.) It was funny, I never realized until then that I did it every day I could, needed to know that I had that ring, had a right to wear that ring.

At work, when I’m alone, frustrated, or in deep thought, I tap my ring and pinky fingers on the desk, hearing the noise. Again, it was unconscious until now, but I need to know its on there for me to think straight.

You know those sick habits we all have that make us feel good? Some people squash bugs, or bite our nails off, or pop zits, or pick on scabs? You know that feeling you get when you do it? That rush of “ha.” I do it constantly with my ring. I find myself taking it off sometimes, its removal giving me that same rush. Looking at the not-tanned skin that lay underneath the ring; seeing its permanent mark on me. Taking it off, knowing it’s not supposed to come off. When I put it back on, I can actively feel the difference, what its like while its off, what its like while its on, knowing for certain once again, that its supposed to be on there.

Another thing that I didn’t realize I did until I started paying attention is that when I speak to women, I will touch my face with my left hand, as if in thought, so that the ring is readily apparent. This usually starts the comment that I’m married, and then I brag about my wife. This is interesting for me to find out, because I have always known that I have used that “thinking” motion with my right hand, and I didn’t realize until I was looking for it, that when I talk to women, I knowingly use my left, hoping on some level that they will see it and react in someway.

(That is also vain on some level, hoping they will react in a negative way to the marriage, to prove the fact that all women want me on some level, and they are disappointed that I do not return the feeling. Though it feels good to know someone thinks you are attractive, especially when feeling attractive is a rare occurance for a man such as me.)

Other weird things:

I sometimes make a fist and look at my hand from the front, wondering what it would look like if I punched a man like that.

When I wash dishes, I always clean off the top of the microwave first, so I can put my ring there, since it is within eyesight of where I’ll be doing dishes. Same thing happens whenever I am doing cooking where I need to use my hands for meat or dough, etc.

My cats check for the ring on my finger too. If it’s ever off, one of them paws at the non-suntanned region of my finger when I pet them.

I keep the business card of the person who sold the ring to us in my wallet, in case its ever lost. The only mark on the ring is the jeweler’s engraving on the inner side (we got it from a local jeweler) and I want to make sure I can prove its mine if I lose it, by showing the card that matches the marking.

And then, I go to sleep, and I begin the process all over again.

My wedding ring is much more than an investment that really means nothing else to anyone than myself. It is my protection against insanity. It is my reassurance to my loneliness. It is the symbol that I was able to participate in a relationship that actually made it this far. (Keep in mind, I have been engaged a total of three times. 4, if you count the informal “We’ll get married once we see each other again.”)

It’s a symbol of my love and trust. It represents my fear at losing my wife, and my constant struggle to keep her with me, to be good enough for her. It calms me, and brings out the confidence in me when she smiles at me, and the reminder that she does still love me even after we have yelled at each other.

Now, when I see those episodes on TV… they’re not that funny anymore. How could you make a joke like that? Its like accidentally leaving your child on the public transit system and your funny exploits to find him or her again. It isn’t funny. At least, in my weird mind.