How I managed to lose my wedding ring in the Arabian Gulf

So basically, here’s how the story goes...we go jet skiing and, on the way, Miranda says, “I think I’ll take my rings off.” I say, “Good idea, I won’t bother taking mine off because it’ll never come off.” You have to understand that I deliberately got it made slightly smaller so that it REALLY takes some twisting to get it off. It can be done but it takes a lot of effort. Never in a million years did it cross my mind that there might even be a slight chance that it would come off, there was just no way. I was wrong. After coming out of a spin, I hit a wave that catches me offguard and I go flying off the jet ski. Hitting the water sideways, but no worse than diving off into a pool, I’m jolted into the water. I’m now haunted by visions of my wedding ring slowly floating downward to the bottom of the Arabian Gulf (yes, it’s in slo motion and there’s dramatic orchestra music). Needless to say, I was pissed when I looked at my hand later after we got home and, lo and behold, there's no ring on my finger. I was heartbroken. Miranda made me feel better with comforting words, saying that it is, indeed, something that can be replaced. But still, this was something very sentimental to me and now it's gone. So we’ve left a piece of us here in the Gulf that’s sure to remain for some time. Miranda gave me an interim ring that’ll do until I get a replacement, one that will have to be special in its own way. At least I lost it in a jet skiing accident in the Arabian Gulf instead of just accidentally dropping it down the toilet. Still, I really wish I’d taken it off. Lesson learned. Luckily, I have an understanding wife that refrained from saying the four words that came to her mind and I'm still have the most important thing in my marriage: my wonderful wife. But the ring will be missed. The end.