Perhaps I jumped into it.
I gave him a key, and whether I convince myself it was for convienence or not, it was because I’d never done it before. It made me feel grown up. Like a real adult in a real adult relationship. Little did I know it would turn out to be one of the more childish periods in my life.
I didn’t ask for it back. Something in me revels at the thought of him carrying it on his keychain, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger late at night. I know one day soon he’ll slip it through the metal ring, stash it in a drawer or maybe just toss it in the garbage bin. Either way it will be much harder for him to let go of than it ever should.
Now I hear he’s dropped off the face of the planet ever since I said goodbye.
It’s a terrible habit of mine- dating sentimental men with reckless abandon. Perhaps next time I will only hand over the keys to the lawnmower, how attached can that make a man?