The sun falls on our already sun-burnt skin as SharkBoy and I leave yet another overly AC-ed jewelry store in some Caribbean port, disappointed with the selection and prices. Our search for new rings isn’t like our first time selecting jewelry in the sunny islands (images missing. Sorry!). We’re coming across $1000 gold rings (whoa) or $10 cheap Le Chateau knock offs that some nightclubbing twink would wear. No middle ground.

Our original rings of Medical Grade Titanium have become tarnished and no longer have that bright shiny look they had years ago, however, make no mistake, their meaning hasn’t. We both agreed that fresh rings would be nice and an update was in order. Sometimes SharkBoy surprises me with his ability not to attach too much meaning to inanimate objects. Just the things that count to us, like our 50″ plasma TV.

After 6 sunny island ports and a brief nosey around NYC, we found nothing. Although I’m very confident that if we put much more effort into it, NYC would have yielded some fine rings, but time restraints held us back.

Last weekend we’re wandering through an underground mall and out of the corner of my eye I see a row of masculine rings: brushed metal and silver, the two elements we were looking for. Brushed, to hide any scrapes and shiny because we’re magpies at heart. The second thing I noticed was a sign proclaiming “40%” which didn’t hurt at all.

Not that I’m cheap but I don’t put a lot of money into things that I know I have a good chance of losing, like sunglasses, bikes or hats. Jewelry has a tendency to leave me like my hair did when I was 21.

I reiterate: the meaning is no less important.

We silently look at the display for a style we like. As we’re looking, the clerk, offered us a 2 for 1 if we were getting two, possibly noticing we had matching rings on, or just eager to talk to someone – the store wasn’t busy. After a few minutes of debating we choose the ring we like and start picking out our sizes.

The new rings might be considered a bit of a downgrade: from Titanium to 18/10 Stainless Steel. As I removed my wedding ring I did feel a twang of remorse for swapping out the old ring for the new. Wasn’t I suppose to have a symbol of permanency that has “No Do-Overs” stamped all over it? A forever binding reminder of my promise to SharkBoy? Does purchasing these rings weeks after our vacation in a nameless hole-in-the-wall jewelry kiosk erode the symbolism of these rings? Does it erode our love?

As the cash register rings I notice that the Pet Shop Boys are playing. Our favorite band was on the radio playing their first big hit, West End Girls. I take it as a sign and gladly stab the new bling on my finger.

I reiterate: the meaning is no less important.