For Christmas this year Todd got me the Lego Architecture set of the United Nations building. I worked on it at night after Mae went to bed. It was an incredible three days.
The other gift he gave me was even better.
He said I was finally allowed to pawn our wedding rings.
I had been asking to do this for years*, but Todd, such a romantic, didn’t want to.
Now, I actually do enjoy gasping at the wedding rings of others. Those of you who have watched commercials with me might note my irritating penchant for loudly pointing out which minor characters are wearing or not wearing a wedding ring. But for some reason I never really took to mine. When we got married, the only traditional thing we did was buy rings. We spent, combined, what was in my eyes a ridiculous amount of money for jewelry, but it just seemed like something we should do. I remember being at Zales in the mall and pointing to the cheapest one. The woman working behind the counter said, “That looks just like my first wedding ring.” It was very small, thin, gold-looking. $60. A little rich for my blood, but anything cheaper I’d probably have to walk over to Hot Topic.
If I could go back to that Zales in St. Joseph, Missouri, Future Meg would grab the ring out of Old Meg’s hands and say, “Think logically. This isn’t your scene! What are you doing here?”
One reason it doesn’t make sense for me to buy anything even vaguely expensive is that I lose everything. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost my wallet. I’ve been known to set down my purse in Target when I’m looking at Legos and then just walk away, Lego set in hand, purse on the floor. This is why my sunglasses come from thrift stores and I’ve all but stopped buying earrings. So it is a miracle I never lost my wedding ring.
We both wore our rings the first year, but gradually we just sort of stopped. Todd didn’t wear his to work, afraid he’d lose it behind the bar, maneuvering glasses in and out of the dishwater. That was a good reason, way better than mine, which was just that I forgot and didn’t care. Interestingly, Todd got questions and strange looks when people noticed his bare hands. They asked him if “everything’s okay,” as though we were in the midst of a trial separation. No one asked me anything.
Before you start thinking that we are hard up for cash, alternating who has to take the bus down to donate plasma, let me be clear my desire to sell our rings had little to do with money. I just didn’t want one anymore. If we got married today, and someone was like, hey, here’s some money. Do you want to buy wedding bands or have a memorable dinner at a new restaurant? I’d choose the memorable dinner.
We decided our first attempt to sell the rings would be at our local pawn shop. I got really geeked out to do this, and folded this task into a day of random tasks I was looking forward to accomplishing. First I had to go to the Social Security Office to get a card for Mae. (Did you know they have an armed guard?) Then I had to get an oil change for our faithful Pontiac. After that, I had to get a sandwich and a cup of hot tea at an adorable, tiny restaurant.
So, have you ever been in a pawn shop? They are 95% a gun shop, 3% a Jerry Maguire DVD storage bin, and 2% chainsaws/tree stumps carved into bears.
I am not even going to tell you the dollar amount me and Todd had decided we would need in order to sell, because it is so laughable, now, considering the amount the guy at the pawn store offered us, but let’s just say I’d been looking up prices of iPad Minis. This is the conversation that transpired between me and the guy who for the purposes of this blog we’ll call Ron.
Me: “Do you guys buy wedding rings?”
Ron: “Everyday.”
Me: “Okay. I have two.”
Ron: “How much you looking to get for these?”
Me, internally wondering, is that how this works?: “I don’t know.”
Not that long of a story made short, Ron offered me 27 dollars.
I did not take the offer. Instead, we got a really delicious pizza that night for dinner.
Briefly we considered some other hillbilly-deluxe way of selling our rings, but in the end it seemed like a lot of work for very little pay off. Who knows? Maybe years down the road I’ll look at my ring and be glad I never got rid of it. Maybe I’ll give it to Mae so that when I’m dead she can try and pawn it.
I’d argue that I am romantic, but perhaps in ways that aren’t as celebrated. While Todd and I never do anything on Valentine’s Day, we do believe in surprising each other. Todd once offered to organize my closet. It was like I was falling in love with him again. One of the most romantic things Todd can do for me is offer to organize varied realms of our apartment. (You should see our kitchen cabinets.) I am trying to think of something I do for Todd, but I’m drawing a blank…Maybe I let him watch his sports-related programming if I’m watching a nature documentary on Netflix?
I think this is what can make a couple successful: eschewing tradition. It can be more personal, less expensive, and more interesting. (Emphasis on the word “can.”) If you asked Todd if I’d rather have a new bracelet with matching earrings OR a dozen really good chicken wings and creative storage solutions for all of Mae’s bi-products, I think the answer is clear.
* We've only been married four years.
