A little blue box

He was the last guy to buy me jewelry. 

And when I miss him, I wear the necklace he gave me. 

It never makes me sad. 

It always makes me happy. 

And it makes me feel close to him.

Even if I'm never going to look into his face again. 

I remember when he gave it to me. 

He said he hid my birthday present at work because he didn't trust me. 

He figured I'd look in his apartment for it. 

And maybe I would have. 

It was months after he'd said, "I love you."

He used to be so excited to say it. 

He'd get up from his computer and cross the living room to where I was sitting on the couch just so he could put his face in my face and say, "I love you."

It was unbelievably sweet. 

The last time we made love as a couple he looked in to my eyes during and told me, "You're the most beautiful woman in the world."

And I could have died in that moment.

Satisfied. 

Complete. 

And days later he didn't want to be a couple anymore. 

Love is frightening. 

It overwhelms. 

And the only way to love is to be vulnerable. 

Which scares the shit out of most people. 

Who can feel secure so raw?

I, however, would choose the vulnerability of love any day over the self sufficiency of independence. 

I'm happiest when my heart is resting inside a clueless pair of hands. 

I'd rather fumble through life alongside someone's mistakes than ride smoothly in a placid sea of my own making. 

But most men I love don't see love that way. 

They need to transition. 

I am their transition. 

I still remember when he handed me the little blue box. 

It wasn't wrapped, because white ribbon is really all you need. 

And before I opened it, I was already shocked. 

Tiffany.

And this from a man who never spent a dime without a fundamental, logical reason. 

Love had driven him to such excess. 

And it danced about his eyes with the excitement of a child. 

I opened the tiny pouch inside the tiny box and a silver necklace fell into my hand. 

It truly, could have been anything.

And I would have loved it. 

Because he chose it. 

The tiny knot was so simple and subtle. 

It was nothing I ever would have chosen for myself. 

But it was perfect. 

He was so proud. 

And it feels like a lifetime ago. 

Which I suppose in some regard three years is. 

But it's mine. 

And he isn't. 

And there are so many painful memories that frame our tragic love story and broken friendship. 

But that delicate necklace from Tiffany will always be the symbol of the love he once was so excited to share. 

I was such a different girl then. 

And I hope one day, despite how short my next love may be, that they would share such a token with me. 

So when years have passed, and I've forgotten to miss them, I can reach into my treasure chest and find a symbol of the love that once sang in their heart. 

And feel close to them, when I might never look into their face again.