I was recently spending some quality romp time with a friend, lover … however one wants to categorize him. We were getting all hot and heavy when he whispered something in my ear. This person (we’ll call him Zach) isn’t really one for talking during sex. On several occasions he’s tried to convince me to talk dirty to him, but if he’s not going to reciprocate in the nasty convo, I don’t see why I should put myself out there. Our mid-coitus dialogue usually involves such award-winning lines as “it won’t stay in,” “ouch! Leg cramp!” and everyone’s favorite, “did you come yet?”

But the other day, when he whispered what I hoped would be a sweet nothing, he said: “I want to give you a pearl necklace.” I was confused, so ignored him. Then he said it again, but a little louder: “I want to give you a pearl necklace.” I pulled his head back so we could make eye contact, and I said: “Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not into jewelry. I’m not against it, in fact, I admire those who can wear it successfully. However, because I’m constantly wearing my black-rimmed glasses, I feel that wearing jewelry, for me, would be a little too much. When I do wear it, it’s subtle and practically invisible; it also garners such questions like “Why are you all dressed up?” Pearls, in particular, are definitely not my thing. Perhaps I’ve lumped them into the diamond category, as being perfectly fine for women over forty, but not so much for those on the younger side… yes, I may have watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s too many times.

When Zach said it a third time, I looked over at my bureau, and wondered if maybe what my life was really missing was a pearl necklace. I wasn’t sure where he was going to score the cash to buy me such an expensive gift, or why he felt it necessary to buy me a gift at all. My birthday is still a couple weeks away, and Christmas is months off, and… then, it came to me:

“You don’t want to give me a pearl necklace! You want to come on my neck!” I exclaimed. He nodded happily. “Why didn’t you just say that?” I asked.

“Because it sounds sexier when you call it a pearl necklace” was his defense. I did not agree.

Whether or not I gave him free rein to shower my neck and chest with his, um, man stuff, is not the point of the story. The point is, sometimes things are better left unsaid; sometimes things aren’t what they seem; and sometimes, when forced, bed is a great place to reconsider your original feelings on topics like accessories. After much internal debate, I’ve realized I’d look stunning with a pearl necklace draped over my collarbones. The kind from Tiffany’s, of course.