I fake being married when travelling solo, wearing two gold rings on that finger. Some may say its bad luck; bad luck superstition from an old wives tale that purports wearing a ring on your wedding finger before getting engaged brings bad luck. I have been ‘three times a bridesmaid never a bride’ so I guess my luck has run out anyway. As a general rule, I keep my wedding finger free just in case my curse is broken and Mr Right shows up unexpectedly one day, however, there are situations when I damn those superstitious rules. I typically only wear my two gold rings on that finger; which when worn together resemble a wedding band and engagement ring. It was never my intention to marry-up the two rings; both came into my life at different times and one day wore them together for extra gold bling, my left wrist and hand demanding statement gold-glamour jewellery. And later, adorning rings on my wedding finger for an entirely different reason altogether.
When travelling overseas as a single female, I started to wear my two gold rings as a protective talisman in an attempt to ward off unwanted and unwarranted advances. Especially when taking taxi’s alone to-and-from airports; seemingly I am a magnet for weird experiences that linger in taxis driven by men. It all began with a harrowing experience in Dallas when in fear of my life, I was forced to spin a bullshit story to a middle aged, overzealous taxi driver. After four fun days attending a leadership development workshop, I was in good spirits on the Friday morning of my departure from the Omni Dallas hotel at Parkway; excited about my first visit to New York before heading home to Australia. An early morning flight to New York meant I was practically alone in the hotel lobby at 5am besides the reception staff and concierge; who kindly called a taxi for my brief, 20 minute journey to the Dallas Forth Worth airport.
After five minutes hurtling down the Lyndon B Johnson Freeway and normal-ish taxi conversation, prying questions came flying rapidly from the taxi drivers mouth: what was my name, was I married, what type of food did I like, did I like Indian food, would I like to go out with him for dinner, can I have your number. I went into horrified panic, petrified mode. Darkness blanketed the taxi distorting my sense of direction; was he taking me on a long detour, was he driving me to a secluded location, would I make it to the airport alive if I forcefully rebuked his unwanted, creepy advances. My fight or flight senses kicked into survival mode and for my own safety, silently panicked on the inside all the while keeping a calm face, smiling and politely repeating ‘thanks but no thanks’. And with no rings on my wedding finger, told the taxi driver my fake little-white-lie story that I was married and my husband was eagerly waiting for me in New York. After an eternity, the taxi finally arrived curb-side at the departure gate. Hastily paying my fare I quickly escaped the frightening confines of the taxi, grateful the nightmare taxi journey had finally ended.
At the time I wished I was wearing my two gold rings to corroborate my married story, but they were safely hidden away in my jewellery box at home. After this harrowing incident I started wearing my two gold rings on my wedding finger whenever travelling alone; predominantly in taxis and airplanes as physical symbols to corroborate my made-up, fake story about being married. Originally I wore them together for practicality as the diamond ring stops the gold band sliding off my finger; and I admired the way they looked as a pair. Serving an entirely different purpose as well, I damn the superstitious ‘wedding ring finger rules’ for piece of mind as a female solo traveller, should I ever again need to conjure up a story about an imaginary husband waiting for my safe arrival.
Michael Kors watch | Aurélie Bidermann bracelets | Gemma Baker Jeweller rings | Country Road top
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