Writers Island: The Gift

It's funny how simple things can reveal so much about someone. The way someone answers a phone, holds your hand, the drink he orders, the socks he wears. One of the biggest tells I've found is the gift he gives.

I do not wear a watch. I have skinny wrists, and it can be difficult to find accessories that aren't too loose. And watches have always bothered me; the way they pinch your little arm hairs every now and then and how they're always reminding you that the hours of your life are slipping away and someone's keeping track. No thank you.

I also seldom wear bracelets. I like my cheap costume-y ones: the fake pearls in shades of pale green, the little brown beaded ones with larger turquoise baubles, the cheap amalgamation of clear, creamy white, and silver beads. All containing some type of elastic, I like the way they stay in place but not too snugly, and they make good toys when my hands get fidgety. I could never wear bangles (all that sliding up and down and the pretentious clink clink every time you move your arm). I don't even get the phrase "tennis bracelet," and I certainly don't want it on my wrist, regardless of its karat amount.

I should have figured it out when his first gift to me was a watch. And I should have dropped everything and ran when his second gift was a sparkling bracelet. But instead, I stupidly wore these items that I loathed until I ended the relationship several months later.

It wasn't until my current love presented me with roses and daisies for our one year anniversary that I actually got it. Really, it was just the daisies. They're my favorite.