Why your marriage is more likely to last if your husband DOESN’T wear a wedding ring – and the depressing spotlight it shines on other women

When my husband-to-be Sam first told me, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t going to wear a wedding ring, I thought he was joking.

Looking up at his face, however, which bore the countenance of a person about to deliver a eulogy, I realised this was no laughing matter.

I stared at him for a minute, my head cocked in confusion. I had many questions whirring through my head, all of which stemmed from the most simple: ‘But why not?’

I had never heard of a man not wearing a wedding ring. Like getting married in a bikini, or mid-bungee jump, it was something I’d never considered to be an option.

It seemed akin to refusing to ‘kiss the bride’ after being instructed to.

Why would he object to something so generic? I wasn’t asking him to change his religion, political beliefs or gender; I was merely asking him to wear a ring (of his choosing) on his wedding finger – like every other married man I knew.

Growing up I was told that a wedding ring is a declaration to the world of your bond with another person. You only need to look at the speculation sparked when someone is spotted not wearing their ring – as was the case this week with actress Keira Knightley’s husband James Righton – to see the significance.

As for choosing not to wear one at all? Well, that’s viewed with inherent suspicion.

Though my initial reaction to Sam’s announcement was one of shock and mild hurt, I never viewed his choice as nefarious. Even in my darkest moments, when I look like an electrocuted llama and act like a feral squirrel, I feel confident that his eyes aren’t wandering. The mere thought of cheating on me, I believe, would be enough for him to have a panic-induced heart attack.

And so, with the most obvious reason for not wearing a ring out of the way, I was left again asking: ‘Why?’

For one, he ‘did not want to wear jewellery’ he said firmly, as though I was asking him don a pair of statement earrings.

I argued that a wedding band transcends the realm of ‘jewellery’ and is more a wearable symbol of your unity, of a relationship that cannot be abandoned without legal ramifications.

Besides, many people find wearing a wedding, or indeed engagement, ring a bit strange at first. But they all just, you know, get used to it. So it seemed like a flimsy argument.

But his main reason, it transpired, was tradition.

Sam is a man who mentally lives 200 years ago and knows more about his dead relatives than his living ones. He has a deep love of history and in his family, according to him, none of the men have ever worn wedding rings. Not his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, nor, we assume, any man prior to that. It was a tradition he wished to continue, furthered by his obstinate desire not to adhere to current societal norms.

When I pointed out that his younger brother, who’d got married two years prior, wore one, Sam rolled his eyes.

‘He’s weird,’ he claimed, ‘he doesn’t count!’

I rolled my own eyes and glared at him, but he declared his brother’s choice was ‘irrelevant’. He reminded me that men didn’t generally wear wedding rings before the Second World War, and happily pointed to a slew of his friends who are equally unspoiled by finger jewellery.

He could also, off the top of his head, cite a long list of public figures who don’t wear wedding rings: Prince William, and every male Prime Minister after Harold Wilson (except Rishi Sunak) to name but a few.

Had I felt strongly enough, then perhaps I could have talked him round, or forced him to wear a ring.

But, once my initial shock had worn off, I realised I didn’t care enough to have what would surely become a recurring, never-ending philosophical debate.

I did, however, sense that I could gain something from ceding to this argument – and my bargaining chip was to suggest that I got an extra ring instead ‘to wear on his behalf’. My acquiescence was literally bought in gold. While my friends initially had some questions, when I told them about the second ring I was getting as a consolation prize, many changed their view.

One friend nudged her then-boyfriend in the ribs and exclaimed: ‘That’s what we should do!’

Essentially, I found that most women were open to forgoing their husband’s ring if it meant extra jewellery for themselves.

My family, however, was less distracted by shiny objects, and appeared slightly concerned at the prospect of my husband being ringless.

The news was met with a puzzled silence, which was finally broken by my grandmother exclaiming: ‘But how will anyone know he’s married?’

My father seemed to think that he’d misheard us, and spent the ensuing months repeatedly asking Sam if he was going to wear a ring, as though he was sure he’d imagined it and had to reconfirm if he’d dreamt the whole thing up.

Even on our wedding day he asked, with the same curious look as he had six months prior, ‘So, are you going to wear a ring?’ Some days I fear he’s still waiting for Sam to put one on.

After we said our vows, it was slightly strange to have two boxes for me and nothing for my husband; the uneven wedding ring exchange was a slightly awkward interaction. I was given one ring for my ring finger and another to sit next to it on my pinky, while Sam happily received nothing.

My additional ring is a Russian wedding ring, featuring three bands to represent the past, present and future. While I’d like to say I chose it for its symbolism, it was mainly because I liked the look of it.

Six years on, I can’t remember the last time I’ve noticed that Sam doesn’t wear a ring. I certainly don’t feel I need a thin band of gold to ‘prove’ our marriage. Living together and being endlessly tortured by the two children we created is more than enough confirmation to me that he is, indeed, my husband.

I don’t really consider what other women think when they see his ringless finger. To me, it seems mad to equate someone’s fidelity to wearing a ring.

After all, they can be quickly removed should anyone want to appear single for underhanded reasons. And it’s hardly as though affairs only occur when someone’s hidden their marital status. If you have a genuine concern that your partner’s ability to be faithful hinges on whether or not they wear a ring, then you probably shouldn’t be marrying them.

Like any relationship, a lot of negotiation is required to keep ours well-oiled and drama-free. From where we live to our children’s names, there’s always something that requires meeting someone halfway, conceding a win, or sticking to your guns if you feel strongly enough.

To me, my husband’s lack of a ring is just one of those situations where I chose to let it go – just as he begrudgingly allows me to watch a horror movie every night in October, or paint our bedroom a new colour on a whim.

If anything, I’m beginning to come round to his point of view. More and more, you see married men who have made some truly questionable choices when it comes to their wedding ring.

Perhaps the world could actually do with one or two fewer bedazzled husbands.

By comparison, as I look at my own extra ring, I’m thankful that I not only have a husband whose choices I trust implicitly – but who is also willing to pay me off in precious metals.