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It's amazing sometimes how you're waiting for a column idea to drop on to your lap, but instead, one falls under your desk.
That's what happened to me.
I have not worn my wedding ring since May, and not because I have grown weary of the current Mrs. Ann Marie Franco.
Oh, quite the contrary. I would wear two rings if that was what society deemed appropriate.
I just am one of those guys who doesn't like jewelry, and for 24 years now, I am the guy who takes off my ring without notice, and without thinking (which, sadly, is my mantra with many things in life).
If I am at home doing dishes or cleaning, I take my ring off.
If I am sitting on the couch and watching TV, I will take my ring off and put it in a cup holder on our couch.
If I am at work typing up stories, I take my ring off.
So, you've got the picture.
Well, my good friend/boss Neil Rudel called me the other day and asked me if I had lost my wedding ring. Now, this isn't the first time Neil has called me about my wedding ring.
For a good part of my 15 years back at the Mirror, I've received the occasional call from Neil that went something like, "You left your ring under your keyboard again. I will put it in an envelope on your desk."
Good guy. It was there every time when I came back into work.
But there was no phone call the past five months, and I had given up on finding it because I had accused our new puppy -- Huckleberry -- of eating it.
And when a dog eats something like that, it's only coming back to me one way -- and there was no way of ever recovering that, no matter how beautiful, smart and wonderful my wife is, and has been, to me and for me.
I did look everywhere at work. I did a job on my desk that any forensics team would have been proud of. Same with my house. It was gone. I looked in places it would never be, and it wasn't there.
My kids wanted me to get another one. My wife was cool about it. She was not thrilled, but she understood. See, there's that love thing again. It just wasn't in our budget plan. The white suntan line on my ring finger was proof enough that I am constantly walking around in marital bliss.
But I have to admit: It has been tough. Women can sense when a handsome, funny and loving guy walks into a room. I attract that kind of attention.
And because of my job, my lifestyle and my kids being involved in lots of things, I am out in the community a lot and trust me, women notice a guy without a ring on his finger.
The constant flirtations were sometimes unbearable.
I'm at the grocery store, and women are saying things to me like, "Hi, Mr. Franco, do you have your rewards card with you?"
Or if I'm at a doctor's appointment with one of my boys, they smile and ask me for my insurance card. Even when I go get my wife a frozen mocha at the drive-thru, they ask me about skim milk or extra chocolate. And the amount of ladies who just say, "Hi, Scotty," at work is an HR nightmare sometimes.
Come on, ladies, can't you see the suntan line on my finger? It was getting to the point where I thought I was going to have to wear gloves in August.
But thanks to some Good Samaritan, my ring was located under my desk this past week, where I swear I looked when I still held out hope of finding it.
It felt better when I could blame the puppy, because he destroys so many other things at our house.
Too bad Huckleberry doesn't realize what a good thing Ann Marie and I have. She tolerates me and loves me at the same time.
I don't need a ring to prove that, but it does allow me to gently break the hearts of all those other women I come in contact with in life.
When he's not searching for his wedding ring or juggling sports assignments, Scott Franco writes a monthly column for the Mirror.