Dixie & Samantha meet in the Spring of 2007 as single professional women, among other single, professional women, and way too much laughter and wine. Not necessarily in that order.
Fast forward into late Summer 2007. Dixie’s mom has two matching wedding bands, one for each of her daughters. So, when Dixie finds out that her younger sister is getting hers on her wedding day, Dixie, being the moral, upstanding, equatorial woman who she is, boldly states, “Where’s mine? I’m already married.” “And divorced,” quips the younger in white. Mom soothes, “I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but since you asked…” And out comes the other band. Is it a surprise that it fit on THAT finger?
Unable (unwilling?) to re-size it for another digit, Dixie decides to try it out for a while, keeping it in her car, hiding it from her boyfriend, stealing moments of What If, fantasizing of a different, “married” life.
And she notices something. People look. They look at the finger. They look at the Ring. And then they look at her. And smile. She takes it off next time she’s in the same store: They tap their nails and roll their eyes when she can’t find the credit card in her wallet. She puts the Ring back on: They smile and make conversation when the credit card is declined, “Oh, that’s right, my husband maxed it on the new entertainment system.” They all laugh, because they’re all wearing the Ring. At work, male customers look her in the eye and female customers instantly bond in conversation.
So the Ring stays on.
