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by Maya Halpen
I’m back from a girlfriend getaway in paradise. Traveling with a best friend off the beaten path awakened joy in me and soothed my soul, but it also left me wondering: Why can’t I capture that sense of fun and wonder in everyday life? Why do I feel so stuck here in Boston, yet I was free as a bird in Mexico?
One idea: I took off my wedding ring while traveling. I think my naked ring finger gave rise to more open responses and deeper interactions than I would have otherwise experienced.
One afternoon my (single) traveling companion, Maddie, a 35-year-old dear college friend who lives in Los Angeles, pointed out something peculiar in the heavy surf. As we watched, a lone snorkeler emerged onto the beach holding a spear and a wire laden with fish. We dropped our beach novels, marched over to investigate, and found a young Mexican man pleased to show us his catch of red snapper, octopus, and lobster.
In bits of English and Spanish we learned they were snacks for a gathering of friends at a nearby cabana that evening. He told us if we brought some beer, we were welcome to hang out and share. Quite a tempting offer.
Unfortunately, we had other plans. But if we had taken him up on his offer I think we would have enjoyed a relaxed evening on the beach with some new friends. If we don’t travel for this kind of experience, why travel at all? But were a ring on my finger, would the same offer have been made?
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1 ohkwarimama // Aug 12, 2008 at 11:39 am
When my husband and I got married we had no money and a young child. We bought cheap rings and my finger reacted badly to the metal, so I stopped wearing mine. We got new equally cheap rings which we wore for a couple years, and then my husband crushed his (saved his finger) in a work accident, so he stopped wearing his. I took the opportunity to stop wearing mine as well (as I had never liked the look of the cheap ring). We are now waiting to have our new, not so cheap rings made. Our marriage has not been effected at all by wearing or not wearing rings. They are a culturally specific symbol, something that matters only if you think it matters. I know lots of people who do not wear wedding rings at all (happily long married people). In many cultures rings are not a part of making a promise to be someone’s partner, get over it!
2 kenneth // Aug 12, 2008 at 6:41 am
Concealing your wedding ring is not much different from being unfaithful (especially if you believe in wearing the wedding band as sign of fidelity). Why should you still marry if all your looking for in life is happiness, meeting other guys where a lot of temptations arise?
3 watcher77 // Aug 12, 2008 at 2:54 am
well, how does one find the right words to describe extreme selfishness, self-delusion, betrayal, egocentrism, vapidity, airheadedness, superficiality to the max, poor excuse for an adult, never grew out of high school, britney-clone, slut-fiend. Sorry, I just can’t find the words.
4 Married & free in Mexico // Aug 12, 2008 at 12:42 am
I managed to go to Mexico with a group of my girlfriends and we all kept our rings on and guess what? We had a blast, had guys hitting on us left and right (the ring doesn’t matter) It’s just a THING. While us girls didn’t act on any of the advances, having the rings on our fingers sure didn’t stop the attention. Oh and BTW, it’s ok digruntled hubbies……we told our hubbies all about our excursions. I guess for me, if my ring WAS to be off, it would be more obvious I suppose as I have one hell of a tan line on my ring finger (I think that call that the “cheater’s ring”). Bon Voyage….
5 Insulted in NJ // Aug 11, 2008 at 3:31 pm
Nicole,
I have a very sexy marriage, thank you very much. As per you comment on assigning so much importance to a piece of jewelry— my whole commentary, not judgement focuses on the ideal behind the concept of marriage and the symbology of the ring. It was the author of this article who attached a superfluous significance to wedding rings and wedding bands and their relative importance to the substance of her own marriage. As a husband myself, who is only privy to one side of the story as articulated here, I empathize (believe it or not) with the author’s husband. I’m insulted for him.
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