I’m selling my wedding set, later this morning.
In preparation, and because I’d never had “professional” ring photos taken, I decided to do some, myself, earlier tonight, using my “good” camera and a crinkled camisole.
This is oddly cathartic, and oddly sad. I’m glad the rings will no longer be in my possession, but I hate that they were mine, but never “mine.” I hate that the rings I loved so much never fulfilled their purpose, and that I didn’t get to wear them forever, as I’d planned. I suppose that’s what happens when you view marriage as a set of symbols and rules, rather than as a partnership (*cough*wasband*cough*).
Engagement and wedding rings have a weird place in my life, at this point. Former boyfriends and good male friends keep telling me how wonderful I am, and how much they’ve always wanted to be with me, just before becoming engaged to someone else (no, seriously – I HAVE A LIST). The two times I’ve been engaged, only one ended in marriage, and that marriage ended in divorce.
The ring has stopped being a simple of love, and has instead become a symbol of settling, and of broken promises. I hate that. I suppose when your only experiences with something have been repeatedly negative, though, you’re bound to get bitter.
I mean it, though, that I want this ring to have a happy future. It’s a gorgeous set, and it deserves to be worn proudly, shown off shamelessly, and paraded around by a giggling woman completely sure of herself and her relationship, with a man who’s also completely sure of those things, and willing to fight to keep them safe and whole.
So long, symbols. Be good in your next life.