When I was single and in graduate school, lo all those many years ago, there was a cute guy who sat across from me in one of my classes. I made eyes at him all during the first session, and we had a decent conversation after the second. By the third, I was ready to swoop in, but as I still didn’t know whether he was gay or straight, single or attached, I decided to look for a wedding ring. For two hours, I waited and waited for him to move his left hand where I could see it, and when he finally shifted positions, putting his left arm on the table, my gaze shot to his hand at warp factor five.

Only . . .

Well, it turned out he didn’t have a left hand.

But since he wasn’t wearing a ring on the hand he did possess, I screwed up my courage and asked him out on the sidewalk after class.

Only . . .

Well, it turned out that he had a boyfriend.

We became friends, though.