When I was a younger man, I wore an earring. I had gotten it, as young men are wont to do, to impress a girl. A girl who was so impressed by my bravado and disregard for The Man that she immediately started sleeping with my best friend. I guess you could say that I lost her.

But I kept the earring. At first it was a reminder not to let a crush come between friends. As the 10 miles between our colleges became intractable, it came to serve as a reminder to always be the man I wanted, and if that wasn’t good enough that was their problem. Eventually, I guess you could say I lost him too.

I haven’t worn the earring in years. The hole closed up, the wound all healed. Still, there’s scar tissue beneath to this day. I like to roll it between my fingers sometimes, and remember how it felt to have those little things that hurt so much to lose.