Naturally Tan_A Memoir by Tan France

Author:Tan France [France, Tan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, lgbt, Performing Arts, Television, Genres, Reality; Game Shows & Talk Shows, Entertainment & Performing Arts
ISBN: 9781250208828
Google: buNaDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1250208661
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2019-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

WEDDING RING

I’ve told you about how important my wedding ring is to me, but I’d also like to share the story behind it.

When Rob and I decided to get married, it wasn’t really a conversation. There was no proposal. There was no need for a proposal. We mentioned wanting to get married only a month and a half into knowing each other, when Rob first visited me in England. At that time, of course, it would have been insane. So we left it alone until a year or so later, when it came up again. “I could marry you today,” he said. “I could marry you,” I said. And this time, we said, “Well, then, let’s do it!” and went down to the marriage registry office.

When you get married in the UK, you have to register at least two weeks prior. In order to do this, you get all your documents together and you meet with a clerk who tries to ascertain whether it’s a legitimate marriage or not. On the day we registered, Rob and I sat in an office with a sweet, bubbly lady. She walked us through basic questions, and then it came time give our parents’ occupations. I said my mom had been a housewife. Then it was Rob’s turn. He had to give an honest answer, and he said, “Cowboy and cowgirl.” The woman enjoyed this so much! She said, “I’ve never gotten to write that before! Do you mind if I tell people?” It reminded me how nuts it was that this Pakistani boy from England was marrying a legitimate cowboy.

When Rob and I got married, I was living in England during the early days of Kingdom & State, and the business was struggling. We were making ends meet, but we weren’t making a real profit. We were broke as a joke, but luckily men’s wedding bands aren’t as costly as women’s diamond rings, and I knew exactly what I was looking for. I wanted my ring to be Indian gold, which is yellower and purer and softer than Western gold. I asked Rob if he minded, and he said he liked it, so we went ahead and chose our bands.

Rob was back visiting America at the time, but I told him to measure his wedding ring finger so I could have the rings made in time for the wedding. He did and shared the information. He said he was a size nine. I said, “That cannot be right.”

He told me it was.

I said, “I’ve been with you for two years, and I know with absolute certainty that is not your size. Go back and check it.”

“Tan, that is one hundred percent right,” he said.

Against my better judgment, I told him I would try my best to accept it as true. But I knew it had to be wrong, because it sounded like it was meant for the thumb ring of a fucking giant. However, I was trying to not be the bitch from hell and not scare him off marrying me, so I agreed to the ring size he was suggesting.

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