On a Pedestal
If I had a nickel for every ex who bought a luxury watch in the wake of our breakup, I would have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot of nickels, but it’s strange that it happened twice, right?
Most recently, the object of obsession was a Rolex. He got a handful of watches while we were together but would still spend hours researching this Rolex. Once he finally had it, I asked him how he liked it. “It’s not as hefty as my others,” he said, disappointed. Even his dream watch, it turns out, didn’t scratch the itch.
I found myself relating to his watch. After our breakup, I got flowery promises and sweet words I had craved for our entire relationship. Perhaps I, too, was more desirable from a distance. When I told my ex that I related to his new watch, he chuckled and said, “Oh, so you fancy yourself a Rolex?” Candidly, I don’t. But I tried self-confidence on for size and said “I’m top shelf, babe.”
I also bought a watch after we broke up. It immediately charmed me when I saw it in the thrift store case. It was half-off that day—serendipity. It kept time perfectly for a day or two; then, it started randomly lagging several hours behind. It seemed to have a mind of its own: working sometimes, other times not.
I love how when you hold it to your ear, you can hear it still doing its best to keep time. It ticks at inconsistent intervals, one second turning into two, then thirteen. I loved my thrifted trinket so much that I didn’t mind resetting it five times a day. It doesn’t keep time, but I still wear it every day. The quirks made me love it more.
I don’t want to spend my life on a pedestal. I want to be loved up close, flaws apparent. I want a love that sticks around even if I’m not operating to manufacturer’s standards. Love that will wind me five times a day if that’s what loving me requires. Love that accepts that every heart ticks at its own unique pace. Love that chooses me because of my quirks, not in spite of them.
When I’m tempted to believe this kind of love doesn’t exist, I look at my watch that doesn’t keep time and know it does. If it exists in me, then I know that it can exist for me. Top shelf, indeed. It just may be the thrift store shelf.
