There's a guy sitting across from me on the Google shuttle from Mountain View to San Francisco. Good-looking Asian man in a henley and tortoise shell frames. On his left hand, he's wearing a wedding ring.
A few months ago, I had a conversation with Emily at Tsunami in New Orleans. "I never notice that kind of thing," I said. "When women are pregnant or when men wear rings. Breezes right by me. But women seem ridiculously in-tune to it—like on a primal level. Every single one of my girlfriends can spot a ring from across a crowded room. But when they call it to my attention, I feel blindsided. What the fuck, I think. I can't even find myself in a group photo."
But at Coffee Culture in late-July, I noticed a wedding band on a man pointing at a breakfast pastry inside a glass display case. "Cheese," he said. "Now does that mean cream cheese or like provolone or something?"
My friend Matt's friend Brett was wearing a gold ring on his left hand while plucking ramen from a bowl at Chow on Church. I noticed it almost immediately, and then I noticed I noticed.
At this moment, there's a guy reclining across from me on the GBus, wearing a simple band around his ring finger. And if I'm being honest, I noticed the ring before I saw his face.
Part of me feels like I never noticed pregnant women or married men because I didn't live in their world. It's not in the cards, so why would I notice at all?
But now—with you—I'm sharing my present and building our future. Browsing for rings isn't a fantasy. It's something I did this morning while listening to the playlist you made me. Size 8, yeah?
Being your partner gives everything more context.
Suddenly, I've got more options; more possibilities.
You've cracked open the world.
The shuttle creaks to a stop at Market and 9th, and everyone rises to their feet. In a single-file line, we descend the steps and land on the busy, rush hour street. I watch the handsome, be-speckled Asian guy disappear into the crowd navigating the crosswalk. And then I turn away and march down 9th towards my apartment, passing exactly 12 men wearing rings.
My friend Matt's friend Brett was wearing a gold ring on his left hand while plucking ramen from a bowl at Chow on Church. I noticed it almost immediately, and then I noticed I noticed.
At this moment, there's a guy reclining across from me on the GBus, wearing a simple band around his ring finger. And if I'm being honest, I noticed the ring before I saw his face.
Part of me feels like I never noticed pregnant women or married men because I didn't live in their world. It's not in the cards, so why would I notice at all?
But now—with you—I'm sharing my present and building our future. Browsing for rings isn't a fantasy. It's something I did this morning while listening to the playlist you made me. Size 8, yeah?
Being your partner gives everything more context.
Suddenly, I've got more options; more possibilities.
You've cracked open the world.
The shuttle creaks to a stop at Market and 9th, and everyone rises to their feet. In a single-file line, we descend the steps and land on the busy, rush hour street. I watch the handsome, be-speckled Asian guy disappear into the crowd navigating the crosswalk. And then I turn away and march down 9th towards my apartment, passing exactly 12 men wearing rings.
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