In the early days of our relationship, Alan used to take off all my rings at night and put them in a little wooden trinket box he bought just for that purpose. It was very tender/sexy and I don’t know why/when we stopped doing that. Now the box is on top of my bookcase, and I just put my jewelry in a little cluster on the bedside table by myself each night.
Now that I have a fabulous diamond ring, I tuck it in to sleep back into its black velvet box, so it looks like I’m being proposed to night after night. The first thing Alan saw me doing that, he looked shocked. “You don’t keep it on all night?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. I don’t really know!”
I was going to ask the ladies of my book club and/or watch movies very closely to see who wore theirs to sleep, but never got around to it. I do know that I take it off to do dishes and to go to the gym: just common sense.
On our camping trip this weekend, we were tramping through the woods when this little dialogue happened.
Alan: You know how you take the ring off at night?
Alan: And sometimes you’re not wearing it?
Alan: So you won’t be angry now and then if I don’t wear mine?
Erika: Sure, as long as you wear it when you go clubbing.
Alan: I’ll wear two just in case the dingbat I’m hitting on doesn’t know which hand to look at.
And then we saw a bear!
Actually, we did see a bear but that was on a different hike and deserves its own post.
Ed. note: Alan does not go clubbing. And it’s wrong to refer to women as dingbats.