i have this pair of earrings. not terribly exciting. little diamond studs. but i love them. they're practical--all purpose things that for the most part i can sleep in without them poking me in the neck.
when i dated a guy a few years ago, one of them came loose while we were making out (like teenagers) in the middle of his living room. i quickly took it out, put it on a counter, and forgot all about it--other more pressing matters were at hand.
and for the rest of our relationship i'd ask him to remember to bring the earring and he'd say that of course i'd be over again and i could get it then and on and on until we broke-up.
and you know? i'd be damned if i didn't get that earring back.
(remember? i posted about it here. it was awful).
for a long time i knew exactly which stud it was that he had held onto for so long. somehow it seemed important.
in the next few months i found an almost identical pair at a fraction of the cost and quickly snapped them up.
and time moved on and i lost track of which earring he had had and then i lost one from the original pair and one from the backup pair and was left with two studs that didn't quite match, but still, i loved them.
they got me through a lot.
and then this fall, i lost one of them in the crevice of another man's couch. and the same day, lost the other somewhere on his bedroom floor. and it became this thing--this joke between us.
those earrings are still lost somewhere. and somehow i'm okay with that because it was never really about the earrings it was about the guy, and the guy from the fall, well, i was okay with him having my secrets and my earrings. i knew he'd protect both.
but just a few weeks ago, when i found the same pair in anthropolgie on sale, i snapped them up, because not only are they still great earrings, a girl's gotta get her mojo back.
and more earrings means more stories.