One Ring to Rule Them All

One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. . .

It was given to me quite by chance actually, by someone who, whether through genuine sympathy or an insatiable voyeristic streak, couldn't bear the thought of not witnessing every misfortune and misadventure that would eventually befall its owner. It was my precious. My one. My own. And then something happened that the ring quite clearly did not intend. . .

You see, after I got married, I started meeting women. Lots of women. More women than I ever met in college or any time before (not that I ever met many before, what with being such a doofus and all), and I'm not talking about tupperwear party going, stitch-and-bitch women either. Not like the women I got to dance with at the senior center when I was 12. I'm talking about women. The ring brought them, and it controlled them. And they wanted me, my precious. Finally, after all those years. And I couldn't do a thing about it. . .

The Fellowship of the Ring
I had been married for maybe a few weeks, and the ring's power had yet to fully assert itself. We were going out to dinner with friends, and asked for a table for four once inside the restaurant. The waitress was looking at me funny. She was pretty. I liked her. She's still looking at me. What does she want? Did we go to school together? This is kind of creepy. . . 'Right this way, folks' she says. Okay, she can talk. Good. Normal enough for me! She stops by the table that she's planning to seat us at, and puts her hand on my shoulder and puts the menus all across the table. Then she decides to rest her hand in the crook of my arm while we get seated. She's playing me for a tip. I like her, she's nice. Okay, she wins. I am nothing, if not easy. I sit. Arm moves back to my shoulder. 'The drink menu is here' she gestures, 'Is there anything that I can get started for you right away?' Arm now around my neck. I look up. She's looking at me all funny again. Everyone else is being ignored. 'Errr...' I manage to spit out. It's the best I can manage (it's a doofus thing, just go with it). 'We'll need just a minute.' my wife says curtly. My wife is mad for some reason I think. 'Ok, back in a few!' says the waitress cheerfully, giving my neck a last little covert rub before departing.

Wife: 'She. Did. Not.'

Wife's friend: 'Oh. She. Did. And did you see those fuckme eyes??'

Wife: 'Bitch.'

Wife's friend: 'Slut.'

Me (You know in the movie Bambi where the little girl rabbit is scratching Thumper behind his ear, and Thumper's foot starts thumping uncontrollably, and he gets a big grin on his face? That's me right now): 'Oh, she's just being nice...'

Wife: 'You're an idiot.'

Me: (Still dazed): 'Yyyyeeeeeah. . .'

And the rest of dinner pretty much went the same way! It was wonderful, fabulous in fact! She was fabulous. Her eyes were fabulous. The food was fabulous. The fact that my wife was jealous was also fabulous. I had never seen that before, and for all I knew would never see it again - and in fact, had things gone any more swimmingly, she probably would have lunged across the table and gouged my eyeballs out with a fork. Heh. I spent the rest of the meal, and well into dessert wondering. . . what it would be like if they got into a cat fight, or a pillow fight, or maybe. . . Ah, nevermind. . .

Her Two Towers
We were at a bar, a bunch of us, for some reason. Not that we needed a reason, but I think that this may have been a weekend at least, 'cause other people were there too. My wife was meeting us at the bar. Larry and I (who's Larry?) and a handful of others were drinking Martians (martinis) and telling stupid jokes, and having a great old doofus-fest of a time. I had been paying attention to nothing but the table I was at for the evening, so it was quite a shock to be cornered by three women when I came out of the mens room on my way back to our table - not that it wouldn't have been a shock at any other time either, it's just that I hadn't noticed they were in there. One of them touched my chest and pushed me back into the corner near the men's room door.

Her #1 (big smile): 'Hi.'

Me: 'Errr. . .' <--- dammit!

Her #2 (fuckme eyes): 'How many people have you slept with?'

Me: 'Um, I guess about [a respectable average number]. . .'

Her #3 (cornering me on the other side of 'her #1', looking at her #2): 'See, that's not too many!!'

Me (wishing I had lied just a little): 'How, uh-'

Her #1: What's your favorite position?

Her #2 and #3: *giggle*

Me: '[Immediate and truthful answer], but I'm married so I - '

Her #3: 'Oh, that's okay, we don't mind that at all . . .'

Her #2 (lifting her shirt): 'Do you like these??'

Me, inside my own head: Where the HELL were you guys five years ago, huh?!? HUH!?!?

Me: 'I should really.. I, uhh.. I have to go. I'm sorry. Really.'

Needless to say, when I got back to our table, no one believed me. I decided not to belabor the point, as my wife arrived shortly thereafter, and we left after sharing another appetizer and drink. I did hear about it the next day though, as apparently 'her #2' and 'her #1' decided to flash the entire bar before they left later that night. And that's a pity, because I was actually kinda interested in what was behind door #1. . .

...Could Have Been King
I was out of town on training, minding my own business, sitting in the hotel bar writing some song lyrics when out of nowhere two girls came up and asked if they could share my table. It's one of those tables that sits low, with cushy chairs all around it, kinda loung-ey, but in an upscale east coast kind of way, not a skeezy sleazy 70s kind of way. I was a little bit taken aback by how forward they were, but I figured maybe people on the east coast actually talk to strangers like they do in the midwest. Heck, I've had strangers sleep on (on, not with) me in movie theaters in the midwest, so I kinda go with the flow, yannow? You know what? This time I managed to let out a 'Sure!' instead of an 'Errr...', so, so far I had them fooled.

They sat down and fiddled with their drinks a little nervously for a few minutes, making polite small talk. They were from out of town, and staying in the hotel. My, isn't the weather nice. We have a conference tomorrow with so-and-so. You know, the usual crap. No fuckme eyes, no nothing. Then they got quiet. And then the blond one turns to the brunette -

Blond: 'So, ask him...'

Brunette: 'I, okay...'

Blond: 'Well?'

Brunette: 'Okay, so like, my friend here? We'll, we're together, you know...'

Blond (squeezing brunettes hand): 'We're seeing each other.'

Brunette (smiling): 'Yeah. And I've been with a man before, but April here hasn't.'

Blond (looking at Brunette, lovingly): 'Yeah.'

Brunette: 'And she wants to at least try it once, and so then I thought that maybe it could be something that the two of us could share together...'

Blond: (smiling at Brunette, then looking at me) 'Yeah, and that sounded so sweet. And so... would you?'

Me (inside my head): 'Check please.'

Me: 'Would... I... You mean. You mean, would I? Errrr. . . .'

Them (giggling and nodding, kind of embarassed): 'Yeah.'

Me (inside my head - head about to explode): 'Check please. Just SAY IT! HOW HARD IS IT TO SAY IT!?!?!'

Me (in disbelief, looking around for Ashton Kutcher or some other joker with a camera): 'Errrr....'

Me: 'I'm sorry, I really am, but I'm married, and -

Me (inside my head - head threatening to strangle throat): 'YOU IDIOT!!!!!!'

Me: ' - and I can't be -'

Brunette (hurt): *sigh* 'Well, I can sure respect that. We hope to get married some day too, as soon as we get all of our crazy kinky ideas out. You know how it is.'

Me (lying my ass off): 'Oh, yeah. I know how it is. . .'

Blond (looking very hurt): 'Come on, let's just, go. . .'

Me: 'I'm sorry, really!!!'

Brunette (consoling): 'Come on hon, let's go pick up those handcuffs you saw earlier.'

Me (inside my head, which has now turned against me and taken on a life of it's own): 'IDIOT! IDIOT!!! IDIOT!!!!!!'


It was painful and disorienting to have these things happen. Much like being bandied about the head with an axe handle would be painful and disorienting. I couldn't believe what had been going on. What had changed? Had I lost weight? Hair look especially good that day? New aftershave? Confused me with Brad Pitt? Okay, maybe Will Ferrel? Thought I was rich? I couldn't figure it out until I was experssing my confusion to Sarah (who's Sarah?) one day, and she replied that I was deemed 'safe' because I had that one ring - my wedding ring.

Sarah: 'It says that like, you aren't going to get all weird on them. You're seen as more stable, reliable, and attractive with that ring on. It's kinda like being pre-approved.'

Me (slowly dawning): 'Really? Boy, that's like.. That's like the biggest lie in the world, isn't it?'

Sarah: 'Oh yeah. Huge in your case.'



Single and lonely? Buy yourself a one ring!