I got married recently. For the first time.
There are many pros and cons to committing myself to this.
One unexpected benefit I discovered the day after the wedding was at Enterprise rental.
When I was adding my girlfriend—oops, I mean wife (sorry, my brain still needs time to adjust)—as an extra driver, the employee asked, “What’s your relationship?”
We hesitated, exchanged smiles, and then I answered with confidence, “She’s my wife!”
That felt weird but oddly satisfying.
“Oh, then she’s automatically added for free.”
What? I didn’t know that. Apparently, that’s a solid financial reason to get married!
Downsides?
There could be many.
But there’s one minor thing, not exactly a real downside, just unexpected, that I feel almost embarrassed to admit.
Wearing a ring is uncomfortable.
Yeah. I haven’t worn accessories since I was a kid. No rings, no necklaces, no earrings, not even a watch. Probably because of my family. We’re just not accessory people. The only thing everyone in my family wears, unfortunately, is glasses.
My wife, on the other hand, enjoys accessories. Nothing extravagant, but she wears them for dates or when she’s just in the mood. And considering the ring was quite expensive and from some big brand—according to my guests, because I had no clue and my wife didn’t tell me—I figured I should at least make a real effort to get used to it.
So I started wearing it.
Which finger? This is easy. The ring finger. But which hand? Right or left? I’m right-handed, so based on my very early childhood experience of briefly wearing a cool Ultraman digital watch that broke just hours later because I thought it was waterproof and wore it into the bathroom, I assumed I’d wear the ring on my left hand to minimize any inconvenience. Accessories should go on the non-dominant hand, right? But then, I also knew that according to Islamic teachings, the left hand was considered “unclean”, so the ring should go on my right hand.
You can guess where it ended up.
Before the wedding, I thought I had the perfect ring finger, narrow enough at the base to keep a ring from feeling too tight but with a big enough second knuckle to stop it from slipping off. I’ve always been slightly self-conscious about my second knuckles because they seem a little too big to make my fingers look smooth and straight. Some told me it was because I always popped my fingers. But I don’t believe that theory. The popping sound came from the first and third knuckles, not the second.
Anyway, I assumed a ring would sit well, not too tight but secure enough to stay in place. It wouldn’t have to clamp onto my skin.
Turns out, I was wrong.
I can’t stop adjusting it. Touching it. Feeling it. It’s not painful, just… always there. Constantly. A tiny distraction whenever my mind drifts.
And though I have no scientific backing for this, I swear my finger’s size fluctuates throughout the day. When it swells, the discomfort becomes impossible to ignore. When it shrinks, it becomes too loose and starts moving around.
It even makes me wonder: why were wedding rings invented in the first place? I mean, sure, they symbolize commitment, but did anyone consider the constant fidgeting and discomfort? The only way I can convince myself is to think of it as a chastity device, just a lot more subtle and appropriate.
So, will I keep wearing it?
The first day I returned to campus after my wedding, at least three people asked, “Where’s your ring?” I said I wasn’t wearing it. “Oh, is that not part of your culture?” “Haha! No, it is. I just don’t find it comfortable.” To my relief, a guy in the office who got married a few years ago admitted he felt the same way, and it took him four months to get used to it. Four months!
So does it actually affect me? I’ve tried skiing, solving a Rubik’s cube in 10-ish seconds, using Vim, driving in snow and potholes, and washing dishes without gloves. Nothing changed. No measurable impact on performance.
For now, I wear it on and off. I’m trying to keep it on while sleeping, hoping my unconscious self will handle the adaptation process for me.
Let’s see how long it takes.