A Tale of Two Billy's

Nope, nope...THIS one is FOR SURE the most romantic song ever (again, this will change by tomorrow.  Or even by 11:58 tonight).

Yes, I do realize that I have some sort of love song psychosis right now.  I'll work on that. 

Clint told Trin if she ever comes home with a plastic ring from her boyfriend, he'll have to beat the dude to a pulp for not having more class.  I said I thought the whole plastic ring thing was incredibly sweet and romantic.  I like love stories that start off with humble beginnings.  I still remember in sixth grade, a boy named Billy bought me a plastic diamond ring for ten cents from the student store.  He put it in a brown lunch sack and placed it in on my desk when I wasn't looking, with a note that said "From your secret admirer."  The next day I received a little brown bear, and this time he signed it "Love, Billy." 

The thing is, there were two Billy's in the class.  I thought the gifts had come from the other Billy, who happened to be cuter (in that pretty boy-band sort of way), and the one who all the little girls swooned over.  So the next day, when I got a note asking "Will you go out with me? Yes [bubble], No [bubble]," I checked "Yes." 

Shortly after, I found out that I was going out with the wrong Billy.

In retrospect, I should have appreciated the Billy that I ended up with.  He was much more thoughtful and witty than Boy-Band-Billy.  But grade school girls can be shallow.  Even though I went through the motions of being his "girlfriend" and enjoyed our little dates on the playground, I knew deep down that my fondness for him was only because he was the one who gave me the ring.

Once I entered seventh grade, Billy called me and asked if I wanted to have a long-distance relationship with him since we no longer shared the same class.  I said "Sure!"  I think that was our last conversation.  We never broke up, so technically speaking, he's still my boyfriend. 

But here's the thing:  No matter my lack of a geniune attraction for Billy, or who he's married to now, or what kind of gorgeous rock he put on her finger, I'm always going to be that little girl for whom he first bought a ring.  And he will always be the first boy in my life who gave me a ring.  So the plastic ring thing?  Romantic. 

I hereby rest my case.