Sometimes, if I care to pay attention, I can be reminded of the things that made me believe that The Husband was the man for me. I knew when I married him (well before that, actually) that I was not making an easy choice (what marriage is, really?). We're both incredibly stubborn and independent, used to getting our own way and unwilling to compromise. We're also both very emotionally guarded. I don't share my feelings easily, and I have an incredible fear of being hurt that ties in nicely with all of my emotional scarring left over from my relationship with my father. It's not that I don't want to talk about how I feel, I've just been conditioned over the years to be the girl whose walls are impossible to scale and who's "perfect" because she doesn't have that cliche emotional side.
Anyway, back to my reminder.
When I was about 13, a friend of mine gifted me with a simple silver Claddagh ring. In order to avoid a long explanation, suffice to say that Claddagh rings (for those who don't know) have varying significance depending on how they're worn. I instantly fell in love with the classic Celtic design (not surprising considering my love of Celtic things).
With very little exception, I wore a Claddagh ring on my right hand, heart facing out (signifying that I was single/my heart was available) for the majority of my life. As a teenager, I always had a dream (I believe it began as an actual dream) that I would meet someone who would know what my ring meant and just turn it around instead of having that awkward (I don't care how old or mature you are, it's always awkward) "define the relationship" discussion. The older I got, the more I knew that dream was ridiculous. It was a teenage fantasy, though, something that I'm sure I've written into some long-forgotten short story or Pride and Prejudice fanfiction at one point or another.
When I first met The Husband, I was unimpressed. We were at a bar, I was more than slightly tipsy, and he was annoying me because he would not stop invading my personal space. I didn't even think he was all that cute. I merely put up with him because the friend with whom he was at the bar was a regular drinking buddy of mine (that drinking buddy turned out to be The Husband's best friend and is now our brother-in-law). When my friend, the bartender, told me a couple days later that The Husband wanted my number, I told her he could have it because I was bored. Seriously. I thought maybe I'd get a free meal out of him and some good times. I was certain at that point in my life that I was not going to get married, so any kind of serious relationship was completely out of the scope of my imagination.
Several nights later, he invited me at the last minute to come hang out at his best friend's house, which happened to be just around the corner from my own house at the time. I hung out around a fire pit with some friends of his, had a few drinks, and then decided to head home. The Husband walked me to my car...and he kissed me. I was not incredibly experienced in that arena, but I can say without hesitation that I never felt instant chemistry with any of the men I'd kissed before. It was a short drive home (less than 5 blocks), but I had been home for several minutes before I stopped shaking.
It was only a few nights after that when I was at The Husband's house. We were talking, and he asked about the rings I was wearing (in addition to my Claddagh ring, I was wearing a vintage opal on my left hand and one of his friends had made a comment about my left hand ring). I explained the significance of my Claddagh ring and assured him that the opal was just a pretty ring I'd found in a thrift shop. He seemed satisfied that I wasn't cheating on some hapless fiance, and the conversation progressed to other topics. After a few moments, we were sitting in comfortable silence. He reached for my hand, and I assumed he was just going to hold it. Instead, he removed my Claddagh ring, turned it around (heart facing in), and put it back on my finger.
I swear to you, I never once mentioned my ridiculous teenage fantasy while telling him the significance of the ring. I hadn't even thought of it myself in years.
That night, I knew our relationship was something bigger than my original plans.
And sometimes, when I'm ready to beat his head in with a frying pan or smother him with a pillow, I can remember times like these in our relationship and feel slightly mollified (not completely, of course, because I do enjoy paying him back for his bouts of assholeishness).
My Claddagh ring back in December 2009, the day after he turned it around
How sweet is this!!!! I remember you telling me this story at mama cafe <3 love your blog!
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