Even with precise post-Pride business attire planning (a.k.a. I'm going to be drunk as a skunk Sunday night and need to have my spend-the-night outfit at Bryce's place), I still forgot my black leather belt. And this morning, trying to get out of the apartment for our 8:00 a.m. meetings, I turned to Bryce and begged, "Can I wear your belt today? I left mine at home!"
And he gave me his belt with no hesitation. My fellow dandies may berate me. They think the donation of a leather belt a mere trifle of those things one should expect from a relationship. What of trust? What of devotion? What of kindness? Yes, I suppose those are perks. But this morning, certain I'd suffer the humiliation of pressed khakis with no belt, my heart beat a bit faster as he handed me his with the assurance I can have anything I want or need. And his is a much nicer belt than any I own. Swoooooon!