Did you ever wonder why wives want their husbands to wear wedding rings? In reality, it works against their marital interests. As many married men already know, wedding rings are chick magnets. I never really understood the basis of this phenomenon until I stopped wearing mine. You would think that wives would know this because at one time they were chicks. It’s almost like they forget everything they know once they walk down the aisle. I still can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.
When I married, my ex-wife and I exchanged wedding rings, among other things. Bodily fluids may have been involved. I weighed in at about 155 pounds when I made the plunge. Over time, and I blame her good cooking for this, I gained weight. Too much weight. I simply couldn’t resist the food. And, she seemed genuinely pleased that I enjoyed her cooking. Well, as good as the food was, that token of eternal love was strangling my finger. So, out of respect and love, and a deep, abiding sense of what is right, I had the ring resized. Besides, I had a cousin in the jewelry business.
Life is not static, and at some point in my marriage, I decided to stop wearing my ring. Years later, I can only speculate on why I unceremoniously ended this aspect of commitment. I can’t even remember when it was or the exact circumstances under which I made my decision. Maybe I had an argument with my ex-wife. The ring may have been a little tight. Again. Ordinarily, that is not a significant problem, but I lived in a traditional Jewish household. On Friday night (the start of our Sabbath), we make blessings over wine and bread. It’s that scrumptious braided, challah bread, by the way. Yummy! However, before we partake, we first wash our hands and say a blessing. The point is spiritual purification rather than mere fear of germs. That’s my mother’s phobia. When we wash, we are not supposed to be wearing any rings. According to Jewish Law, metal absorbs spiritual impurity. Viewed sarcastically, we are contaminated by our wedding rings, and by extension, marriage. Whatever the reasons, taking my ring off each time became a hassle. I put on some more weight, okay? In any case, it’s off now. Permanently, now that I got divorced. In further support of my decision not to wear the ring, I relied in part on some old adages - like father, like son and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, etc. etc. My father never wore a ring. According to my mother, because my father never confirmed this, he has an allergic reaction to his ring.
One more thing you need to know about me before I get to the heart of this ring controversy. I like to go out. Out and about that is. To bars. I like the atmosphere, even if it’s no longer smoky here in New York. And, I don’t even smoke! I enjoy listening to live music in clubs. Most of all, I love talking to people. After a few drinks, people open up and reveal amazing things. Sometimes, I hear a story that is worthy of being included in a book.
Let me backtrack. When I first got married, I didn’t go out by myself. I stayed home like a dutiful husband. If I went out at all, it was only with my wife. That changed one Thursday night. Not quite revelatory, but close. My ex-wife, if you recall, is a great cook. I mean really fantastic. People often went so far as to ask me to invite them for dinner because they heard about her culinary skills. As I mentioned, we had big Friday night Sabbath meals. Since Judaism dictates that we are not allowed to cook on the Sabbath, all foods have to be prepared before sunset. So, in order to put on a dinner of grand proportions and portions, my ex-wife started her cooking on Thursday night. Normally, I would come home from work, eat dinner and plunk myself in front of the television. My ex-wife would be in the kitchen all evening. Over time, however, I came to hate the nerve-grating, loud whir of the mixmaster. Something in me snapped. I lost all ability to tolerate it. Like mosquitoes at dusk, it annoyed me to no end. Why, you ask? After all, I did enjoy the end result. Well, I just couldn’t stand to hear the process anymore. For starters, it interfered with whatever I was doing. It was a sound which I could not escape in my then modest dwelling. It also was a stark reminder that I was basically alone for the night while my ex-wife toiled in the kitchen. Toiled or reveled, I am not sure which. Alternatively, I could have helped cook, but if you tasted her food, you would understand. My contributions, if any, would have been minor and may have even detracted. In essence, the mixmaster became of symbol of alienation. I wanted the company of my ex-wife, but it was denied to me.
I know, big deal. It was only one night out of seven. Well, for whatever reason I had, it became a big deal to me. That’s how metaphors and symbols work. So, I came up with my own solution. I started hanging out on Thursday nights after work. There were a couple of nice bars near the office which attracted a professional crowd. As a new lawyer, I convinced myself that it was important to go out and meet new people - maybe drum up some business while having a few drinks. At home, the mixmaster could whir away to my wife’s ex-heart’s content. And so, the concept of "Thursday nights out" was born.
Let’s make this clear. Crystal clear. My purpose in going out on Thursday nights had nothing to do with picking up women. In a way, just the opposite. I was getting away from one (and her noise). Notwithstanding, women do go out. Unless you are hanging out at a gay bar (and even there you can run into women), then you will have some kind of contact with the opposite sex. If you are not a total asshole or an uncompromising dork, you will be talking to women at some point. Why wouldn’t you? She could be a bartender, or a friend of a friend. She might be someone you know from work. She might just happen to be the person you sat down next to at the bar because it was the only seat left (especially if she was pretty).
Even though you may resist believing me, I really wasn’t going out with any agenda except to relax. To escape. I always wore my wedding ring. I expected it to act like a magic shield to keep women at bay. It often worked, especially with younger women. I am not sure if it was their tender age or the fact that they weren’t married. They simply weren’t interested in me. I think they were looking for husbands, or at least long-term relationships, more than they were seeking married lovers.
I said it often worked. I admit it. As much as I thought I understood women, I was baffled by the reaction of some to my wedding ring. It really did seem to attract them. If not attract, then at least it didn’t discourage them from initiating a conversation. Oh, I bet you thought I was going to admit that I actually had an affair with one of them. Ha! I am talking about the psyches of women, not sex. And wedding rings, of course.
Let me break this down for you, just in case you never get out of the house. It works like this. You have a favorite bar that you go to after work. Over time, you get to know the bartenders, they get to know what you like. You get to know the regulars. When you walk in, people say hello, how’s it going, Sid? You sit down and have a drink. You chat with the regulars and the bartender. You talk a little sports. You might even comment on the blonde and her friend who just walked in. What happens when your single buddy decides to buy them a drink? Sometimes, they come over and say thank you. Sometimes they even stay to chat. For the sake of this essay, let’s say one happens to sit down next to you. Innocent enough - so far.
Before I discuss what happens next, let me just say this. It’s common for women to complain that men stare and are too obvious. I agree. We do have that bad habit of ogling and gawking. For the most part, women can look at anything they want without being noticed. They are extremely discreet when checking out a man’s ass. In one area, however, women are deficient. I always knew when they were looking at my wedding ring. Even if I didn’t notice right away, they would give themselves away with their first question. "Oh, you’re married?" When it happens, you expect them to get up and leave. But no. They stay. They talk. They flirt.
Don’t forget. I was happily married when I first decided to go out. It’s not that I didn’t like the flirting. It was flattering. It was even fun. Especially if the woman was attractive. And it passed the time until the mixmaster would be put away for one more week.
Maybe this would be a good time to discuss the dilemma a married man might face. The dilemma I faced on some Thursday nights out. Should I cheat or not? Getting a little on the side was not my purpose in going out. I just wanted to have a few drinks and some laughs. I loved my wife. I just hated her mixmaster.
To be honest, some of the women were quite tempting. They never actually solicited me directly. No one ever came out and said - "Sid, take me." Still, it was obvious that all I needed to do was ask.
I will let you in on a dirty little secret. Years ago, the bar I frequented the most after work was T.G.I.Friday’s. I know. It's a bit lame, but it was the most popular place in my office park. On a positive note, there is one very good thing about going to T.G.I.Friday’s when you are married, especially if you want to remain faithful. It’s a fishbowl. A cold shower. Everyone passes through there at some point, at least in my city. Talk about paranoia. You never knew who was watching. You might as well have had your wife looking over your shoulder. Spies, everywhere!
Even in this threatening atmosphere, women would still flirt. Either they were too naive to appreciate the fundamental difficulties of courting at T.G.I.Friday’s or they simply didn’t care. Maybe they were even trying to cause marital problems between unsuspecting husbands and their wives. You could never be sure. Or too careful.
What have I established so far? You can be a married man, wear you wedding ring, and pick up chicks at Friday’s. Oh yeah. And people will rat you out to your wife.
If this is what happens when you wear your wedding ring, then it must be worse when you aren’t. Right? Wrong! Why? Who the hell knows for sure? However, I can speculate for you.
It goes like this and it pisses me off even while I sit here thinking about it for you. If you are wearing your ring, you are putting the world on notice that you are married. You are not trying to hide anything.
Now, consider what used to happen to me after I stopped wearing my ring. I would start a conversation with a woman at the bar, or vice versa. During the preliminaries, the "where are you from, what do you do" phase, I would mention that I was married. Right up front in the very first minute of the conversation. Pretty damn honest if you ask me. So, what is always the first question that pops out of their lip-sticked mouths? "So, why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?" I am thinking, who cares? I was honest about my marriage. I just told you for crying out loud.
It never matters. Sometimes it even spells the end of the conversation. But why? It makes no sense. Think about it. If I am wearing a ring, then she knows I am married without asking me, but she might sleep with me anyway. In other words, she is ready to commit adultery. On the other hand, if I don’t have the ring on, she won’t sleep with me even though I was completely honest about my marital status from the very first minute of our conversation. Talk about a paradox.
Adding insult to injury, it doesn’t even matter if the woman totally agrees with me after I point out the folly of her logic. She gets even more upset with me. Yikes!
To complicate matters even more, there is yet another level to this lunacy because not all women are alike. If you wear your wedding ring at the bar, you risk being subjected to sneers and looks of disgust just for being there. The mere fact that you would even consider going to a bar without your wife is grounds for scorn. Yes, there are women who don’t want to date married men. Imagine that.
On the other hand, if you aren’t wearing your ring, those same women will smile approvingly. Maybe one will even want you to initiate a conversation or buy a drink. Until they discover you are married, that is. So, if you are married and want to pick up chicks, wear your chick magnet.
I have only one explanation for this behavior. More than anything else, women do not like being deceived, not at any point, and not even if you admit to being married. The mere fact that you walked into a bar without your wedding ring is a form of deception, no matter how soon you might correct the misperception. Apparently, whether they are the kind of woman who will sleep with a married man, or the kind who won't, women simply can't abide a man who has any potential for being deceptive. In other words, the ones who will sleep with a married man want to know of the marriage without having to ask or without being advised of the nuptials. The ones who won't sleep with a married man just think you are a shmuck. And in the end, maybe they are right.
When I married, my ex-wife and I exchanged wedding rings, among other things. Bodily fluids may have been involved. I weighed in at about 155 pounds when I made the plunge. Over time, and I blame her good cooking for this, I gained weight. Too much weight. I simply couldn’t resist the food. And, she seemed genuinely pleased that I enjoyed her cooking. Well, as good as the food was, that token of eternal love was strangling my finger. So, out of respect and love, and a deep, abiding sense of what is right, I had the ring resized. Besides, I had a cousin in the jewelry business.
Life is not static, and at some point in my marriage, I decided to stop wearing my ring. Years later, I can only speculate on why I unceremoniously ended this aspect of commitment. I can’t even remember when it was or the exact circumstances under which I made my decision. Maybe I had an argument with my ex-wife. The ring may have been a little tight. Again. Ordinarily, that is not a significant problem, but I lived in a traditional Jewish household. On Friday night (the start of our Sabbath), we make blessings over wine and bread. It’s that scrumptious braided, challah bread, by the way. Yummy! However, before we partake, we first wash our hands and say a blessing. The point is spiritual purification rather than mere fear of germs. That’s my mother’s phobia. When we wash, we are not supposed to be wearing any rings. According to Jewish Law, metal absorbs spiritual impurity. Viewed sarcastically, we are contaminated by our wedding rings, and by extension, marriage. Whatever the reasons, taking my ring off each time became a hassle. I put on some more weight, okay? In any case, it’s off now. Permanently, now that I got divorced. In further support of my decision not to wear the ring, I relied in part on some old adages - like father, like son and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, etc. etc. My father never wore a ring. According to my mother, because my father never confirmed this, he has an allergic reaction to his ring.
One more thing you need to know about me before I get to the heart of this ring controversy. I like to go out. Out and about that is. To bars. I like the atmosphere, even if it’s no longer smoky here in New York. And, I don’t even smoke! I enjoy listening to live music in clubs. Most of all, I love talking to people. After a few drinks, people open up and reveal amazing things. Sometimes, I hear a story that is worthy of being included in a book.
Let me backtrack. When I first got married, I didn’t go out by myself. I stayed home like a dutiful husband. If I went out at all, it was only with my wife. That changed one Thursday night. Not quite revelatory, but close. My ex-wife, if you recall, is a great cook. I mean really fantastic. People often went so far as to ask me to invite them for dinner because they heard about her culinary skills. As I mentioned, we had big Friday night Sabbath meals. Since Judaism dictates that we are not allowed to cook on the Sabbath, all foods have to be prepared before sunset. So, in order to put on a dinner of grand proportions and portions, my ex-wife started her cooking on Thursday night. Normally, I would come home from work, eat dinner and plunk myself in front of the television. My ex-wife would be in the kitchen all evening. Over time, however, I came to hate the nerve-grating, loud whir of the mixmaster. Something in me snapped. I lost all ability to tolerate it. Like mosquitoes at dusk, it annoyed me to no end. Why, you ask? After all, I did enjoy the end result. Well, I just couldn’t stand to hear the process anymore. For starters, it interfered with whatever I was doing. It was a sound which I could not escape in my then modest dwelling. It also was a stark reminder that I was basically alone for the night while my ex-wife toiled in the kitchen. Toiled or reveled, I am not sure which. Alternatively, I could have helped cook, but if you tasted her food, you would understand. My contributions, if any, would have been minor and may have even detracted. In essence, the mixmaster became of symbol of alienation. I wanted the company of my ex-wife, but it was denied to me.
I know, big deal. It was only one night out of seven. Well, for whatever reason I had, it became a big deal to me. That’s how metaphors and symbols work. So, I came up with my own solution. I started hanging out on Thursday nights after work. There were a couple of nice bars near the office which attracted a professional crowd. As a new lawyer, I convinced myself that it was important to go out and meet new people - maybe drum up some business while having a few drinks. At home, the mixmaster could whir away to my wife’s ex-heart’s content. And so, the concept of "Thursday nights out" was born.
Let’s make this clear. Crystal clear. My purpose in going out on Thursday nights had nothing to do with picking up women. In a way, just the opposite. I was getting away from one (and her noise). Notwithstanding, women do go out. Unless you are hanging out at a gay bar (and even there you can run into women), then you will have some kind of contact with the opposite sex. If you are not a total asshole or an uncompromising dork, you will be talking to women at some point. Why wouldn’t you? She could be a bartender, or a friend of a friend. She might be someone you know from work. She might just happen to be the person you sat down next to at the bar because it was the only seat left (especially if she was pretty).
Even though you may resist believing me, I really wasn’t going out with any agenda except to relax. To escape. I always wore my wedding ring. I expected it to act like a magic shield to keep women at bay. It often worked, especially with younger women. I am not sure if it was their tender age or the fact that they weren’t married. They simply weren’t interested in me. I think they were looking for husbands, or at least long-term relationships, more than they were seeking married lovers.
I said it often worked. I admit it. As much as I thought I understood women, I was baffled by the reaction of some to my wedding ring. It really did seem to attract them. If not attract, then at least it didn’t discourage them from initiating a conversation. Oh, I bet you thought I was going to admit that I actually had an affair with one of them. Ha! I am talking about the psyches of women, not sex. And wedding rings, of course.
Let me break this down for you, just in case you never get out of the house. It works like this. You have a favorite bar that you go to after work. Over time, you get to know the bartenders, they get to know what you like. You get to know the regulars. When you walk in, people say hello, how’s it going, Sid? You sit down and have a drink. You chat with the regulars and the bartender. You talk a little sports. You might even comment on the blonde and her friend who just walked in. What happens when your single buddy decides to buy them a drink? Sometimes, they come over and say thank you. Sometimes they even stay to chat. For the sake of this essay, let’s say one happens to sit down next to you. Innocent enough - so far.
Before I discuss what happens next, let me just say this. It’s common for women to complain that men stare and are too obvious. I agree. We do have that bad habit of ogling and gawking. For the most part, women can look at anything they want without being noticed. They are extremely discreet when checking out a man’s ass. In one area, however, women are deficient. I always knew when they were looking at my wedding ring. Even if I didn’t notice right away, they would give themselves away with their first question. "Oh, you’re married?" When it happens, you expect them to get up and leave. But no. They stay. They talk. They flirt.
Don’t forget. I was happily married when I first decided to go out. It’s not that I didn’t like the flirting. It was flattering. It was even fun. Especially if the woman was attractive. And it passed the time until the mixmaster would be put away for one more week.
Maybe this would be a good time to discuss the dilemma a married man might face. The dilemma I faced on some Thursday nights out. Should I cheat or not? Getting a little on the side was not my purpose in going out. I just wanted to have a few drinks and some laughs. I loved my wife. I just hated her mixmaster.
To be honest, some of the women were quite tempting. They never actually solicited me directly. No one ever came out and said - "Sid, take me." Still, it was obvious that all I needed to do was ask.
I will let you in on a dirty little secret. Years ago, the bar I frequented the most after work was T.G.I.Friday’s. I know. It's a bit lame, but it was the most popular place in my office park. On a positive note, there is one very good thing about going to T.G.I.Friday’s when you are married, especially if you want to remain faithful. It’s a fishbowl. A cold shower. Everyone passes through there at some point, at least in my city. Talk about paranoia. You never knew who was watching. You might as well have had your wife looking over your shoulder. Spies, everywhere!
Even in this threatening atmosphere, women would still flirt. Either they were too naive to appreciate the fundamental difficulties of courting at T.G.I.Friday’s or they simply didn’t care. Maybe they were even trying to cause marital problems between unsuspecting husbands and their wives. You could never be sure. Or too careful.
What have I established so far? You can be a married man, wear you wedding ring, and pick up chicks at Friday’s. Oh yeah. And people will rat you out to your wife.
If this is what happens when you wear your wedding ring, then it must be worse when you aren’t. Right? Wrong! Why? Who the hell knows for sure? However, I can speculate for you.
It goes like this and it pisses me off even while I sit here thinking about it for you. If you are wearing your ring, you are putting the world on notice that you are married. You are not trying to hide anything.
Now, consider what used to happen to me after I stopped wearing my ring. I would start a conversation with a woman at the bar, or vice versa. During the preliminaries, the "where are you from, what do you do" phase, I would mention that I was married. Right up front in the very first minute of the conversation. Pretty damn honest if you ask me. So, what is always the first question that pops out of their lip-sticked mouths? "So, why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?" I am thinking, who cares? I was honest about my marriage. I just told you for crying out loud.
It never matters. Sometimes it even spells the end of the conversation. But why? It makes no sense. Think about it. If I am wearing a ring, then she knows I am married without asking me, but she might sleep with me anyway. In other words, she is ready to commit adultery. On the other hand, if I don’t have the ring on, she won’t sleep with me even though I was completely honest about my marital status from the very first minute of our conversation. Talk about a paradox.
Adding insult to injury, it doesn’t even matter if the woman totally agrees with me after I point out the folly of her logic. She gets even more upset with me. Yikes!
To complicate matters even more, there is yet another level to this lunacy because not all women are alike. If you wear your wedding ring at the bar, you risk being subjected to sneers and looks of disgust just for being there. The mere fact that you would even consider going to a bar without your wife is grounds for scorn. Yes, there are women who don’t want to date married men. Imagine that.
On the other hand, if you aren’t wearing your ring, those same women will smile approvingly. Maybe one will even want you to initiate a conversation or buy a drink. Until they discover you are married, that is. So, if you are married and want to pick up chicks, wear your chick magnet.
I have only one explanation for this behavior. More than anything else, women do not like being deceived, not at any point, and not even if you admit to being married. The mere fact that you walked into a bar without your wedding ring is a form of deception, no matter how soon you might correct the misperception. Apparently, whether they are the kind of woman who will sleep with a married man, or the kind who won't, women simply can't abide a man who has any potential for being deceptive. In other words, the ones who will sleep with a married man want to know of the marriage without having to ask or without being advised of the nuptials. The ones who won't sleep with a married man just think you are a shmuck. And in the end, maybe they are right.
1 comment:
Good points to ponder. I may be that one in a million woman who looks the other way when I see a man with a wedding ring. I think, oh they are taken and I don't look back. I know what you said is true though about wedding rings. I have girlfriends who do it- married girlfriends who do it too.
Interesting thoughts.
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