Ring Me

10/2006

I love a man. He gave me a pretty ring. I love this man. Sometimes he makes me cry.

Love may equal tears. Love may equal laughter. But I’m starting to understand what other women have known for decades – Love equals a Pretty Ring.

Recently, the man I love asked for my advice on a flamboyant purchase. He said it would cost 27 Pretty Rings. Two – Seven! Well, with phrasing like that, I had to advise against it. He made the purchase. What did I do? I came up with a quiz:

One: How long have you been in love with me?

Two: What is our signature bed and breakfast?

Three: Where were we when I showed you how cool uncool can be?

Four: What song reminds me of you (in the shower)(on a snowy day)(in Canada)?

Five: Do you think I’m funny?

Six: Do you think I’m pretty?

Seven: Do you like the way I cook?

Eight: Do you want to get married?

Wha-Huh?

He gave me a pretty ring. I asked for a size eight. I received a size seven. So, in essence, the man I love makes me wear the pretty ring on my wedding ring finger. I have no choice. I love it. And no matter what happens from here on out, I’ll never forget it.