We talked about the origin of marriage as a property contract. I pictured a wedding band, looped around a finger like a link in a chain. With this ring I thee own. Distasteful, isn’t it? But I’ll let you in on a secret. I love it; I love the idea of belonging. I would like to be claimed: here is the one that I want, the one that I want only.
I would like to be won, like a thing. And used, like a thing. Not like a trophy to be put on a pedestal, but like a violin to be played and taken everywhere until it accumulates the dings and scratches of a lifetime. I want fingers to curve and press against my neck and coax sweet sounds from my hollow body. I want to lie on a lap and be rubbed and polished to a sheen.
I want nothing more than to belong to someone who would make music with me every day.
Me, and no one else.
A link in a chain? Perhaps. But I would gladly put it around my own finger if it would link me to the one.