I broke my ring!

My and my friends showing off our wedding rings. We all got married in the last year.

Matching Wedding bands my wife had made for us

One of the biggest fears for every married man is loosing his wedding ring. My fear level is higher than most men because my wife had my ring made just for me. I like to tell people she designed it for me. It’s white gold with turquoise inlayed in the band. Very pretty (yes I said a man’s ring is pretty, it looks good on me. I’m told it compliments my skin). It’s very important to me because of who made it for me and it’s meaning. My life time commitment to my wife.

When I feel I may damage or possibly have the ring slip off of my finger, I put it in a safe place. I love wearing it because of it’s symbolism. Plus I like saying “I’m taken.”

On our cross-country trip this summer, we stopped at a truck stop to gas up the car and use the bathroom. I went to the men’s room and did what I had to do. Of course you have to wash your hands, so I did. They was no hand dryer and the paper towels were empty, so I did what anyone would do, I waved my hands to dry them.

That was the wrong move. The soap and water loosed the ring on my finger and it went flying. It hit the floor and made a not so good sound. When I picked up the ring, I discovered that piece of the ring was missing. “Oh Sugar” cam out of my mouth. Actually, something worse came out of my mouth, but I’ll keep this PG-rated.

I immediately looked down to the floor to see if I could find a little piece of stone smaller than head on a nail. Amazingly I found it. When I picked it up, I discovered it was only half of the stone. “Fudge” was the next word out of my mouth. I started to think how I would explain to Kelly how I broke my wedding ring. So, I got down on the bathroom floor and started to look for the rest of the stone. I’m lucky no one walked in wondering why there was a man crawling on a dirty truck stop bathroom floor. It was like searching for a contact lenses. I wasn’t going to fail. After a few minutes of searching, I found the other piece. The back of the stone was the same color of as the floor.

I was able to put the two small pieces back into the band. I washed my hand again, but not with the ring on. I also used my shirt to dry my hands.

When I got back to the car, Kelly asked, “What took you so long, are you feeling ok?” That’s when I told her my story. She suggested I not wear the ring until we got it fixed.

A few days later we took the ring to the jewelry maker and retold my truck stop adventure. They were amazed that I found the stoned and got them back into the band. I was just happy they could fix it.

It’s amazing what you can do when motivated by fear! =0 )