“Gimme a ring some time.”
On Sunday morning I woke up with this pretty young thing and, rather than my usual post-coitus flight-mechanism kicking in straight away, I turned over and lay there for a moment listening to her snoring away. Her blonde hair was in a sprawl over the pillow and I bat a few loose locks away from my neck to stop them tickling me. I lay there as still as I could, so as not to stir her. After a while, as I prepared to move, I brought my hand to my face to rub the morning stubble a little for comfort. I got a shock.
I had Danny’s ring on my finger, or rather – the ring that she’d given me – I must have been plastered! – I can’t remember what made me put it on. I felt for the chain, that it had been on around my neck, and it wasn’t there. I’d worn it around my neck since I broke up with Danny, because I liked the ring, just not her.
It had been a throwback to joke from the first week of our relationship. It could barely be called that at the start. We’d fuck, I’d dress and then I’d say. “Thanks, I had fun, gimme a ring some time.”
I’m not sure when she came up with the notion, but a few weeks, after a few more satisfying sessions, she gave me this ring, just a little silver thing.
“There,” she said “now you’ll never be able to say that to me again.”
I’d not yet connected the dots. “Say what?” I asked.
“Gimme a ring some time.”
“Oh.” I was still trying my hardest to focus on the objective of understanding. I got it almost the next second, but I was still slow at making pace.
“If you do, I can just say ‘I already have’ and then you have to ring me.”
It was corny, but it tugged on my ventricles. Got me all mushy inside for a moment. I stiffened up and said, “I love you.” My fate was sealed. I was going to crash and burn trying to be selfless. I had, and still have, no idea what ‘love’ is.
Now here I was, in bed with a girl and suddenly a squirm of ugliness wriggled in my stomach.
I felt sick. Enough of that… i’m going to try to fathom my feeling. Next post will be about my pad!
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