Friday, February 14, 2020

Running rings around me

I had a huge, pretty embarrassing, argument in the office with a woman I used to work with many years ago. She wore a ring every day that her previous boyfriend, who had died horrifically in a motorbike accident, had given her. I had nude black and white photos – tasteful and arty – taken years ago of an ex-girlfriend. I had no idea where these photos were and hadn't looked at them for years (this is pre-digital era so they were actual physical prints). My argument was that her ring had a lot more significance than my photos: she wore the ring every day, it had emotional and sentimental resonance. Her argument was that the ring meant nothing to her, and me still having nude photos of an ex-girlfriend was outrageous. She was married, I was with someone. I told her if I was her husband, I wouldn't like her wearing that ring. You know what it is, she hasn't actually told her husband the significance of it. She was a loud Aussie and the argument got very heated, I don't know why. Jesus, you know what it is, I actually gave her a spare box of chocolates I had (long story) for her to give to her husband on Valentine's Day. Come to think of it, I designed a card for another female friend to give to her boyfriend for Valentine's Day. What am I, Cupid and stupid?

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