Ringing true

I’m not  a jewelry kind of gal. He’s not a jewelery kind of dude. The whole ‘wear something around your finger’  kind of business that comes with commitment has been rather odd for us. I’m very grateful I live in a place where people don’t really do engagements, let alone engagement rings. Well, people do ‘ do’  engagements, these days, but it’s a new-ish custom that I (quietly and sometimes less quietly) contribute to having our eyes westward, when we look towards what’s fashionable.  A couple of acquaintances of mine got engaged over the last few months. Most of them don’t plan to get married for a good long while, though.

In any case. Beloved not proposing, his not giving me a ring and the decidedly unglamorous announcements of our plans have raised less eyebrows than I feared. That’s good 🙂 I hope that upon meeting his extended family, we will get the same kind of mildly but pleasantly surprised responses.

So, no engagement ring, for which I am glad. We talked about not doing wedding rings either. Or maybe tattoo wedding rings. Then we didn’t talk about it for a while, and I consulted the internet regarding such tattoo rings. I have not been able to find one that looked appealing. They’re either ‘ squiggly’  and will fade badly because they’re so small and the lines so thin, or they’re very ‘heavy handed’. Also, while I appreciate the romantic thought behind a tattoo ring, I’m just a teensy bit too practical to really feel comfortable with it. So then I thought about no rings. Which made me sad, which surprised me. I suppose that despite all the traditions I don’t care about, this one somehow means something. Maybe it’s because I so clearly remember my mom and dad showing me theirs and fitting one into the other  with room to spare (my mom has teeny fingers, my dad has big ones). Maybe because it’s the one marriage custom that I’ve always been around? I don’t know. I don’t really care either (I’ve at least decided I don’t). If I feel like wearing a wedding ring is important, that’s okay. I get to feel that way and (yes) I get to tell Beloved that it’s important to me and that I’d appreciate it if we could get wedding rings.

To soothe Beloved’s mind, I promised that I’ll buy him a dower which will take the shape of a sturdy necklace. If even after trying for a while, the ring feels uncomfortable to him, he can put the ring on the necklace and wear it like that.

All that said and done, we went looking at rings last Saturday. As I mentioned before, we’re not jewelry wearing people, so we had no idea where to go. In the end, we just walked into the main shopping street and found the closest shop. Dude. That was a fancy-ass place. An impeccably suited lady opened the heavy weight outer door remotely, letting us into an airlock-type room. Once the weighted door had closed, she used a key to open the inner door and let us into the shop. Everything was carpeted, everything shone and everyone was dressed to the nines (I felt rather out of place with my shaved head and my hoodie).

We had an idea of what we wanted in terms of looks (white metal, no stones, rather narrow and most of all: comfortable(read: flat)) and the suited lady let us try on a few different types of bands and widths. Then, I asked for the price of the ones we liked best and nearly fell off my chair. Over a thousand euro for two simple bands? But I get to stay in an expensive hotel and drink champagne for breakfast (no, seriously, that’s what you got as a present when you bought the rings). Naa-awwww..

Somewhat stupefied we walked back out of the over-carpeted place of shinyness, back to the ordinary world of street food and sunshine. We’ll find rings somewhere else., I’m sure.

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