Does the Ring Mean a Thing?

“That’s your problem! You don’t want to be
in love. You want to be in love in a movie.”

SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE (1993)

On Friday, June 26, 2015, the Supreme Court ruled to make same-sex marriage legal in the United States, effectively opening a whole new world of possibilities for those of us in gay relationships. I turned thirty shortly thereafter. I’m young enough that I was confident gay marriage would be legal in my lifetime, but the reality came speeding toward me like a freight train in 2015.

My boyfriend and I had spent five years together at that point, give or take some tiny breaks where I would dramatically break up with him and spend a couple of days listening to Adele and texting other men before I would come back to my senses. We also broke up once after seeing the movie Blue Valentine simply because the movie was so intense and made me feel like true love was impossible, or maybe it was because I thought I would eventually run off with Ryan Gosling, WE’RE NOT SURE. Despite the drama, I knew my boyfriend and I would eventually end up together. He’s not perfect—he wears hats to special occasions, he has more collectibles than my three-year-old niece, and he’s #TeamJolie/#TeamKristin (I’ll always be #TeamAniston/#TeamLC). That said, he’s also super smart, he continues to surprise me, he gets along with my family, and he’ll listen to me talk about Katherine Heigl’s old ZzzQuil commercials every time I bring it up (approximately biweekly). If you want a lifelong partner, he’s the one you want by your side.

So, now that I knew I wanted to marry him and marriage was legal, I just had to figure out the next step. Easy, right? Not for me. Marriage is an institution that’s been around forever, and because of that, there are traditions that make little to no sense when applied to me as a homosexual. These traditions sent me into a spiral that had me questioning whether or not I even wanted to get married or if I even believed in marriage. Sure, I fought for the right for same-sex marriage, but that had more to do with equality than it did for my personal need to walk down an aisle. We are so conditioned to think that marriage equals aisle, when in reality, it doesn’t have to.

Which brings me to the ring situation. I started to confide in a few close friends that I was going to ask this man to marry me. Everyone had opinions about who should ask whom, but I always knew it would be me asking him, so I just had to get a band. But wait, men don’t traditionally wear engagement rings. Heterosexual men usually get one for the woman to wear during the engagement period, and then they get new rings when they actually get married. It’s tradition! This is where I started to question the whole institution. Why do women need two rings to symbolize their love? Why don’t men need any? I did what any normal person would: I put on an episode of Vanderpump Rules and worked in a conversation about engagement rings while we were watching. We decided it would be weird for one person to wear an engagement ring and the other not to wear one, so that issue was settled.

Now that I knew he didn’t want an engagement ring, what was I going to do? If you don’t have a ring to propose with, then the moment seems unofficial. I started telling my close friends that, and each time I did, it felt like I was letting them down. I could feel the judgment. They would respond with, “I guess that makes sense, but what will you do?” Everyone in my life equated proposing with an actual ring, and there was no changing them. My head became littered with their judgments, and soon my decision-making skills were compromised. I started to think I needed a ring. Because I was compromising my own beliefs to please others, I became confused. I also worried that anything short of fulfilling the promise of an engagement would look like a flaw in our relationship, and I didn’t want other people to think that. I knew that would lead to friends and family writing off our love, dropping hints to move on, and introducing me to potential new suitors. I internally compromised, concluding that I would get a ring to symbolize the moment, but neither of us would be compelled to actually wear the rings after the asking.

I put on another episode of Vanderpump Rules and shopped online. Turns out you can buy rings to be delivered right to your door, and they are perfectly nice and come with a wonderful return policy. Since I feel cheap even typing that sentence, please remember that I was looking for a diamond-less male ring simply to symbolize a proposal and not to actually wear. I shopped as I watched the two Toms, and I ended up buying a black tungsten band that seemed alternative enough for my boyfriend (who is looks-wise described as “creatively tattooed” by my mother) and simple enough for the traditional proposal. I ordered two, convincing myself that I should have a couple different size options, but I realize now I only bought two so we could have the option of Instagramming both of our hands with rings on them (we live in a sick time).

The rings arrived in a couple days, and now I just needed the perfect moment that would impress the people rooting for us. His birthday was coming up and we had a trip to Mexico planned with some friends, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity. The closer we got to the vacation, the more excited I felt. I stopped worrying about the politics of rings and marriage and felt ready to commit my life to one man. I even had time to plan personal touches without the influence of others in my head. He likes Legos, so I had some little Lego guys made to look like us, complete with cute little Lego tuxes. The plan was to give the Lego men to him and then when he questioned why they were in tuxes, I could present the ring and say, “Will you marry me?” I didn’t have the other details or words planned out, but I knew they would come to me when we got to Mexico.

His birthday week finally arrived, and we packed for our Cabo San Lucas getaway. I’ve never been to Mexico, but I assumed it would be exactly like the Sex and the City movie where the girls take Carrie’s honeymoon trip after Big fails to show up on time to the altar. Perhaps it was because I associated Mexico with Carrie drama, but as soon as we landed, I started to feel internally crazy and things took a dark turn for me emotionally. All those people I told about our special moment were texting or calling to find out the details, asking me when I was going to ask him to marry me. All the pressure froze me and caused me to panic. I was putting on a brave face, but inside I felt like Carrie when she couldn’t eat anything and Samantha has to come in and feed her pudding. I wished I had someone to feed me pudding, because instead I ate ALL the food at the all-inclusive resort, which led to a stomach parasite. So romantic. Regardless, I called my mom for some guidance.

Mom tried to calm me down, and in between trips to the bathroom, I did my best to psych myself up for the proposal. Lots of other friends were calling and texting, asking me how it was going to go. I couldn’t back out now, but I did finally snap. In the words of the poster for Snapped, an Oxygen series, “Everyone has a breaking point.” I texted all my people to stop asking me anything about the engagement, and I retreated to my hotel room.

The next day was his actual birthday, and we had group dinner plans. Everyone was expecting me to quiet the room and get down on one knee at the restaurant, but I refused. Instead, just the two of us went back to the room after dinner and stripped down to our more comfortable outfits (oversize house shirts and underwear). Without anyone else around, I went to the bathroom one last time—a mix of nerves and that nasty stomach parasite.

When I went back into the main room, I saw my boyfriend lying in the hotel bed, playing a word game on his iPad, and everything became clear again. It was just him and me, alone, and a sense of calm came over me. The nerves were still there but buried a little deeper. Stronger than that though, was the assuredness that his love would make everything okay. In that moment, I felt like I could lose everything else—my home, my money, my stuff. It wouldn’t matter as long as I didn’t lose him. I told him to close his eyes, and I put the little Lego guys in his hands. He opened his eyes and smiled. For a few seconds, his lips curled upward, he flashed his beautiful teeth, and inspected the two of us in Lego form. Like a child, he played with them as if they really were me and him. Just like my niece would do, he put the little arms together and made them kiss. I hadn’t even asked him to marry me yet, but in that moment, he said yes. It was in his eyes that he wanted to be with me forever, and the fact that I wanted to be with him forever was radiating from my own. None of that other stuff mattered. That was the moment for us when we got engaged. I followed by getting on one knee and pulling out the ring I bought online. I asked him, he said yes. That was the moment for everyone else. The ring part of the story was enough to please our friends and family when we went back to tell them, but the moment before was enough to please me when I look into his eyes again in twenty or thirty or forty years.

The entire experience made me realize that love, marriage, and tradition are meant to bend, to be flexible. You can’t propose for other people or fall in love in the way you see in the movies. After I saw the warmth in his eyes, I made a conscious effort to strive to do everything in our own way. Instead of rushing to call or tell other people, we celebrated the way we wanted. We lied in that Mexican hotel bed, ordered room service, and watched HBO’s The Comeback (which is the greatest TV show ever) on an iPad. I put my head on his chest, relieved that nothing changed. We eventually got around to posting an update online and calling our friends and family. Their love and support was appreciated, but it didn’t mean as much to me as it did before. We have no plans to get married at the moment, but we do have a commitment that we understand and that I’m glad I made. It turns out the ring didn’t mean a thing after all.

Detour

A good loved one is always just a phone call away.

Phone calls with Mom are usually me ringing her when I lose a job opportunity, or when my boyfriend and I get in a fight. Really any big life moment. Half the time she’ll answer her cell from the grocery store or a TJ Maxx, because she, too, is a certified Maxxinista. Like clockwork, she gets distracted by the world around her, even if she answers my call from her own home.

“Hello?” she’ll say as she picks up my call.

“Hi, Ma! My anxiety is really bad right now, I’m not sure what I should do about—”

“Hold on, Dan, that bold-ass woodpecker is back at the window. (Yelling to my father) Gary! The bold-ass woodpecker is back at the window!”

Here I was thinking she would simply pause the competition for the Mirrorball trophy that she was watching and focus on me.

“Is now a bad time, Ma?”

“No, I can talk, but this bold-ass woodpecker is driving me nuts! It pecks at the window…(imitating) ba-ba-ba-ba-ba! I can’t hear it anymore, I’m sick of it. But I’m good now, what do you need?”

“It’s the ring, I—”

“Hold on, Dan, your Aunt Joanne is calling on the house phone.”

“(To Joanne) Jo, yeah, I can’t talk long, Dan’s on the other phone, but you’ll never guess who’s back…the bold-ass woodpecker! I’m gonna have to start chargin’ it rent! Ya know what, I’m gonna have to call you back, Jo, Dan’s on the other line.”

“(To me) Dan, sorry, that was your Aunt Joanne, had to tell her about the woodpecker. These critters are gonna have to start paying the mortgage! We got a deck squirrel, a slinky cat that’s been coming around. Your Aunt Joanne’s got a smiley raccoon that’s always smiling! You know what it’s smiling about? It gets to live rent free!” she says then turns her attention to my father.

“(To Dad) Gary, go spray the window with Windex to get it out of here, or at least ask it for a rent check because it acts like it owns the joint!”

“(To me) You know, Debbie next door feeds the critters. She’s got the bird feeder and I saw her put out a plate of food! Leftovers! And they still come to my yard, not hers. Imagine if I started feeding the critters here, it’d be a zoo! I’d have a Noah’s ark if I put out my world-famous potato salad. Anyway, what does my Danster need?” she finally asks.

“It’s—”

“Hold on, Dan!”

“(To Dad) Gary, you’re at the wrong window!” she shouts at my father through the glass.

“(To me) Your father is at the wrong window. I gotta go out there and tell him. I mean, he’s cleaning the window, at least I finally got him doing that, but I need that bold-ass woodpecker gone. They don’t like the smell of the Windex, so it goes away when you spray around it. Ya know what, I better go, congrats, or hope everything’s okay. Love ya!” she says, hanging up on me and leaving me with no choice but to smile.

As I get older, I see that we’re all in our own little worlds, dealing with not just the big life events, but also the minutia of an everyday existence. Our friends and family may want us to give them their undivided attention, but it’s not always possible. As life gets busier and busier, I’m grateful to have people in my life who will answer no matter what the circumstance. I count myself lucky to know that I have even just a handful of family and friends I can call in the middle of the night, the break of dawn, or when a bold-ass woodpecker is at their window.