“No. What if I lost it? I’d feel horrible. Like I was careless and didn’t protect it. What if it went down the drain, or I lost it in the pool? No, I’m definitely not a ring guy.”
“You haven’t lost your collar bracelet,” he reminded me.
“It’s wrapped around my wrist twice and securely clasped to me. Besides, this is my most prized possession. It means more to me than anything I own.”
I turned my head to look at him; he was smiling. He had liked what I’d said. And I meant it. The bracelet he’d given me, claiming me as his, meant more to me than anything materialistic. This bracelet was a constant reminder that I was more than good enough for him and that he loves me, no matter how fucked up I am.
“I’ve seen pictures on social media of traditional ring alternatives,” I blurted out. I quickly tried to recover because I didn’t want him to think that I wanted a ring or marriage. “Not that I want a ring, because I don’t,” I reiterated.
“You mentioned that a few times.”
“Good. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”
“Tell me about the alternatives you’ve seen.”
“Tattooed rings.”
Some had been nothing more than a thicker black line. On some women, though, I’d seen 3D diamond rings.
“Some are pretty involved,” I explained. “Though, I’m not sure tattooing on a ring would be a good idea.”
“No?”
“No. What if they separated? A tattoo of a ring you’re stuck with. It’s not like you can chuck your finger into the ocean like a ring.” I picked my coffee cup up with my other hand and took a few sips while I gazed out the window. “Though, I guess you could just get a different ring to actually wear to cover up the tattoo. But it would always be there.”
“True,” Russell agreed.
“Unless you had the finger removed,” I mentioned.
Russell laughed and let go of my hand to reach for his coffee cup. After he took a sip, he said, “Your extremes make me shake my head and laugh.”
“What? If it was a failed marriage, I wouldn’t want to stare at a permanent reminder of it.”
“Having a finger amputated is a bit extreme.”
“I guess I could wear a Band-Aid over it all the time.”
“This is you now?”
“No. Just figuratively me.”
“Well, I’m glad the figurative version of you has decided not to amputate your finger and simply wear a bandage.”
“Would you rather have a tattoo removed or your finger amputated?” I asked. I was suddenly energized with the newfound game.
“Ryan—”
“No, it’s a game! Play with me, Russell.”
Realizing what I had just said, I looked at him and laughed when I saw him smiling.
“I’ll gladly play with you.”
“My game first,” I said. “So, which would you rather?”
“Either my finger be amputated or to have a tattoo removed?”
“Yes! Which one would you pick?”
