So, we bought these rings in Germany. Lloyd’s is a guy’s ring – plain gold band, but the cool thing is that the edges are kind of squared off. It was unique, so that was the choice. My ring is just the same, only smaller.
It’s the middle part of my now-ring:
So, I was happy enough with it. I spent the months before looking at them side by side in the little box. They looked so cool together. When I tried mine on, though, I realized it was a little lacking in the ‘wow’ department when viewed solo.
No matter. I was fine.
We got married. Right before the wedding I drew a dotted line on my ring finger with pen so Lloyd would know which finger to put it on. We went through a year of college and I was fine. During my student teaching experience I had lots of observation time due to a scheduling error, so as I would sit for hours at the desk in the back of the room, I looked at my ring. I had a similar ring that I had bought years ago, and I tried wearing them together. I liked it. It bulked up that skinny band.
We moved to Maryland. We were young and stupid and the internet had not been invented yet, so I spent an inordinate amount of time obsessing about my ring. I had two cheap silver-ish earrings that were the same size as the ring, so I tried putting one on each side.
(re-enacted here with Lloyd’s ring)
I liked it. I liked it a lot. It really beefed up that puny little band. I strongly hinted that this would be a cool thing to do. I strongly hinted often. I strongly hinted more. (It was early in our relationship, and I had not learned how to properly strongly hint, i.e. – do it myself.) Nothing was happening.
Then came a moment that I am not proud of. We had walked through a local mall where there was a jewelry store, and I must have strongly hinted as we walked by, but Lloyd said nothing. As we left the mall, I remember stopping in the entry, bunching up my fists and bursting into tears. “What is wrong with you?” Lloyd asked in shock and fear. With shame, I remember that I sniveled like a little kid, “I just *sniff* really want *sniff* my ring to have *sniff* some other rings soldered onto *sniff* it.”
“Oh…..kay……” Lloyd said cautiously, fearing for his safety. Then he did nothing. Grrrrrr.
Now you should know that in our tiny little apartment, I would take off my wedding ring to wash the dishes. (I don’t know what I was worried about.) Several days after my hissy fit he came into the kitchen as I was cleaning up after lunch and said, “I’m really thirsty for some 7-Up. I’m going to go buy some.”
He was gone for hours, and when he came home he was holding a child-sized cup of 7-Up from McDonalds.
Oh, Lloyd from the Past. You thought you were so sneaky. I looked at the cup and said, “Where’s my ring?”
He feigned surprise, then showed astonishment at my powers of deduction. Long story short, ring was at the jewelers.
And the moral of the story, children? Throwing a fit totally works.