Removing A Wedding Ring Changed Everything

We’ve been married for nearly three years. When our wedding rings arrived, we discovered that my husband’s ring had an issue. It was smaller than expected, and the quality didn’t meet our standards. Our supplier agreed to replace it, but the new one still wasn’t quite right, so we decided to let it go.

My husband was supposed to wear it as is while we planned to find a ring that suited him better. He didn’t want to wear it on the traditional fourth finger like most married men do. Instead, he’d wear it on his index finger one day and switch to his middle finger the next. Whenever I asked him why, he’d respond with humorous remarks and laugh it off.

He’d say things like, “I’m starting a new trend,” or “I’m just experimenting.” He’s a good man, and I have no reason to doubt him or suspect infidelity—at least, I have no evidence to suggest that. Throughout our three years of marriage, my husband has never worn his ring for a full twenty-four hours. He shifts it between his fingers for a few hours, and then it disappears again. “The ring isn’t high quality, and it doesn’t catch my eye,” he often complains.

I reassured him, “This is just temporary. We’ll get a new one soon, so there’s no need to feel embarrassed.” One day, he took the ring off and held it over the flame of the stove. I asked, “What are you doing?” He replied, “I’m testing it to see if it’s real.” He watched as the ring burned. Can you believe that? Clearly, he couldn’t wear a burnt ring, which meant he’d have to go around with a bare finger. I can’t make sense of it.

Last year, after several heated arguments and serious discussions, I gave him until January of this year to get a new ring. Now it’s July, and there’s still no ring on his finger. He says, “I’m still saving up because the ring I want is quite expensive.” I practically had to drag him to see another jeweler recently, but he insists on waiting until he has enough money for the pricey ring he desires.

I’m exhausted from discussing it and have decided not to bring it up again. I even started taking off my own ring, hoping it would prompt him to act, but he said, “Marriage isn’t about the ring, and I don’t mind if neither of us wears one.”

These days, I don’t wear my ring. After all, he doesn’t seem to care. But the issue for me is that I can’t go out without my ring. It’s starting to attract attention, and friends have begun to give me curious looks. They haven’t said anything outright, but I know they’re forming their own theories about my marriage. That’s what troubles me—people thinking my marriage is falling apart just because I’m not wearing a ring, while my husband remains indifferent. So, I’ve decided not to wear my ring until he wears his.

—Candy, Ghana

I remained a virgin until I was twenty-two, during my second year of university. I wanted to keep it pure until I met the man who would take me to the altar. When I met Kobby, sparks flew, and my love for him made me weak. He said, “It’s great that you’re saving yourself for marriage, but the man you’ll marry is right here, so why not give it to him?”

He said it playfully, but my naive heart believed him. One day, when we were alone, he made his move, and I didn’t resist. I gave everything to him, convinced he was my present and future. He was in his fourth year while I was in my second. A few months later, he graduated and left campus. Not long after, he returned as a teaching assistant for his department. We continued our relationship, trusting that our love would carry us through.

Just as I was nearing graduation, Kobby received a scholarship to study abroad, leaving me behind. I was happy for him; he was building a solid future for us, which filled me with joy. However, while he was abroad, it became increasingly difficult to stay in touch. He was juggling four jobs to cover rent and living expenses, along with attending classes and studying. It was hard to get him on the phone for even five minutes; he was always busy.

We thought our love could withstand the distance, but over two years, we slowly drifted apart. I lost contact with him and couldn’t find him on social media since he had deactivated all his accounts. Time passed, and I eventually healed from the wreckage of a relationship that couldn’t endure. I found myself single again, navigating the uncertainties of being alone.

I had dated for five years, but I wasn’t experienced in relationships since Kobby was my only partner. I was apprehensive about starting over and unsure of where it would lead. Then I met Josh one day—a refined man who had just returned from abroad. I admired his politeness and how he treated women. After a few months together, he proposed, and I accepted. I fell in love with him, especially with his plans for our future.

He said, “I came back to Ghana to build a life. If everything goes well, I’ll stay here forever. If not, we’ll move abroad together.”

A little over a year later, we got married. I felt proud of myself. While I couldn’t bring virginity to the marriage, I was happy that I had only transitioned from Kobby to Josh. That was all it took for me to become a wife.

I was working in a government job, and life was decent. Josh had started his own business, and while things were okay, he expected more than what he was getting. A year and a half into our marriage, he said, “This place isn’t suitable for the kind of business I want to run. I want to go back abroad.”

I thought we would go together. I believed that “two become one” meant we should share our journeys, but when the time came for him to leave, he went alone, promising, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you before you know it.”

Two or three years later, he was still abroad without me—living life as if I didn’t exist.

In my confusion and distress, I unexpectedly ran into Kobby again. Our meeting was purely coincidental. He was surprised to see my ring, but I explained that it wasn’t serious because the one who put it on my finger couldn’t keep a simple promise. Kobby still had feelings for me, and after several nights of reminiscing, I visited him and spent the night.

“You should have been mine,” he said. “I should have been wearing your ring,” I replied.

He looked at my finger and noticed I wasn’t wearing a ring. He asked, “What happened to your ring?” I told him, “It doesn’t deserve to be on my finger while I’m with you, so I took it off.” I never believed Kobby would ask me to leave Josh and marry him. But if I were to cheat, it was easier to do so with someone who already knew my vulnerabilities. Kobby—Josh—Kobby doesn’t count as three; it still counts as two, and that’s fine.

From that day on, I stopped wearing my ring. My husband heard through gossip that I had removed it. He was furious and used it as an excuse to end our marriage. I was prepared for him. “I’ll send my family to yours to end this marriage. Clearly, you don’t want it anymore,” he shouted. True to his word, he sent his family over, and soon the traditional rites to dissolve our marriage were performed. The court proceedings took a while, but eventually, that too came to an end. I was free once more.

I didn’t expect Kobby to marry me, but I stayed with him. It felt safer until one day, he too left. He traveled abroad again and never looked back. Now, I’m still single. No, I’m not waiting for a man. I’m living my life as if I’ll remain single forever. If a miracle happens along the way, we’ll consider marriage again.

—Annette

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