If you had told me, even as recently as six months ago, that I would be as lost as a rudderless ship without my wedding ring. I would have told you that you’d flipped the switch and gone barking mad. My beautiful wife, Ana, would have agreed with me.
And then something crazy happened. I actually had to take my ring off the other day for some reason and went to work without it.
What a day of nightmares. It was terrible. Not on the work front, that was an incredibly productive day with lots of work done for clients and had found a couple of new ones at the same time.
But I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was wrong. I didn’t feel like my normal self and it wasn’t until lunch time that I realised that I was playing with my ring finger. A lot. An empty ring finger.
I’ve often heard men comment that their wife would be upset if they found out they had lost their ring and even heard a couple of stories of men who’ve gone and bought new ones so she wouldn’t find out.
What I now know, is that behind all that ‘ball and chain’ type posturing about nagging wives and loss of independence. We men need our women as much as we need oxygen.
Common mythology suggests that men have only a need for sex and food from our women and I want to put that lie to rest. I’ve always loved my woman but never before have I realised how much attachment a man could get from a symbol as simple as a small band of gold.
My ring screams to the world. I’m a married man. I am the lover of just one woman. I will be hers until the day I die. I am her guardian and protector. I will kill any who threaten her safety. I sleep soundly, only because I know she is safe here in my arms.
Men who state that marriage is only a piece of paper will never understand this. I know, I used to be one of them. I also now understand why some men feel compelled to tattoo themselves with their lovers name.
I also now understand why the Gay Marriage debate is so important. No-one should be denied this feeling. No-one.