Wednesday, October 2, 2013

THE WEDDING SCRAMBLE - THE WEDDING BANDS - Marriage of the Rings



The planning timeline told us it was nearly time to get our wedding rings picked out. This was an enjoyable task for her. First, let me speak on the matching of the rings. If you go to the big T for the engagement ring, you better believe you are going back for the wedding band. It is the only material item from your wedding that remains with you every day, so we decided to stretch our budget.

“It just wouldn’t look right with anything else,” Christa calmly stated.

I am sure Tiffany knows this, as they were very accommodating on financing and made sure I had multiple copies of my representative’s card. At this time, we were in Cincinnati and had to visit our local store. Our initial idea was to get matching rings, with “our” meaning that I nodded my head in agreement. Having seen lots of designers’ models in bridal magazines and other publications, I was confident my preferred style was a simple solid band—no edges, no grooves, no stones, no laser-etched angels frolicking in fields of dew-glistened wheat. This sounded good to her until…

We entered the store, received a hello from the plainclothes security guard, and smelled the excessive margins wafting through the air like beer brats at a tailgate. Every Tiffany adventure began with a courtesy tour of the super-sparkle counter, where the value of an Ivy League education existed in each display. I think something like this could be her “happy place.” Perhaps high-quality diamonds would wash ashore like shells in the surf of her beach house on a tropical island.

The security guard provided all the real attention we got. We are not bad-looking people, and we don’t dress like circus folk, but we apparently don’t exude an aura of limitless credit cards and trust funds. We completed the circuit. She had noted the various “if we win the lottery” must haves. I felt bad about leaving a fingerprint on one of the display windows. Pointing is so impolite.

We were at the wedding-band counter and getting a sense of what we liked. There were only a handful of choices. I was steadfast in my preference for a solid ring. She had agreed, in principle, before surveying the merchandise. Then contact was made.

“Can I help you, or are you just playing today?” the sales rep said. Italics represent her voiced contempt. Precious time was being taken from her day, as she addressed mere mortals in the “obviously above your means” portion of the store.

“Yes, we need to select our wedding bands to, hopefully, match this lovely engagement ring we got at your San Diego store,” I said, holding out the partial-carat stunner.

Does this politely validate our presence in your store and make your time worthwhile? She almost smiled.

Then it happened. The Magic of the Sparkle took hold of Christa. First it was subtle, as she asked me, “Why don’t you try on a couple of other choices, just to see?”

She pointed at one with little diamond specks alternating around the band.

“No, I don’t like it as well. I like the plain one. Fairies twinkle; I’m merely shiny,” I replied.

I felt I had some authority here, as this was really about the only decision that affected or reflected solely on me. This was the ring that I would wear for the rest of time. In this process, she was getting 98 percent of the attention and had tried on a couple of diamond-embedded bands that looked fantastic.

“This one looks so beautiful. It compliments my engagement ring so well that they bring out the sparkle in each other,” she said with her eyes aflutter.

I could tell she had made up her mind, but her guilty conscience was getting the better of her. I am not certain if she believed she was breaking a promise, either to me or to her wedding vision of matching bands, or whether she felt bad that her ring had sparkles and mine didn’t.

“Are you sure you don’t mind, if they don’t match?” she asked apologetically.

“Get the one you want. I like mine. It is heavy. It is metal. It is man ring.”

There was the sense of “I hope you weren’t too sold on having matching rings. I know I said it was important, but those were stressful times, and I can say some crazy things under stress. Really, would you deny me the sparkle? Perhaps it is you who are breaking our bond of trust, opting for your man ring. I thought our pledge meant something.

Whoa. I was getting myself in fictitious trouble there. I had better stop. I get in enough trouble in the real world.

We learned that we didn’t have to place the order for a couple weeks and decided to postpone any additional financial burden, until the last possible moment. Our ring info was jotted down on a business card and an order summary, and away we went: the lay folk who shopped Tiffany.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival

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