Friday I went to go get my legs waxed, and I ended up with the same friendly esthetician who’d done my legs last time. We were chatting amicably about how the other was doing, and she asked how my boyfriend was, and I said “Oh hey! We got engaged!”

“ME TOO!” my esthetician squealed, and held out her left hand so that I could see her ring.

I have no idea why, but I reflexively whipped up my left hand. I splayed my fingers out happily and held it up beside the esthetician’s hand. The difference was immediately evident: of course I am not wearing a ring. There is no ring. So, why am I holding my hand up like a dumb ass?

I snatched it back down to my side. “Our engagement was more of a decision than a proposal,” I said, and swallowed. “No ring.”

I don’t ever wear rings. I don’t like engagement rings. I think the diamond industry is evil evil evil, and I’m offended by the whole “Oh, look at that ROCK! He must really love you!” bullshit. So why was I holding up my hand? Is this, like, the secret gang hand gesture for engaged women? If so, I’m clearly going to have to work out some other way to flash my colors.