For a very long time, I had been searching for a way to proclaim that the mister and I were a couple. There had to be a way for people to know –without a shadow of a doubt– that our relationship was solid, like in a real backpfeifengesicht (did I use that right?) “look at us!” kind of way. Holding hands in public, writing my name on his bum in permanent marker while he slept, and saying things like: “bitch, this is my man” just weren’t enough (my thinly veiled sarcasm may be hard to detect on the Internet).
Then there were the love padlocks on the Pont d’ Arts Bridge. No one knows how the phenomenon of love padlocks in Paris started. It has no discernible history. At one point in the recent past, the Parisian government worried about the weight of the locks on such an antiquated bridge. Overnight, someone [government maintenance man] gently removed the locks [sawed ’em off] and placed them into a sentimental storage container [the dumpster].
But, just two days before, the mister liked it –by “it,” I mean “me”– so much, he put a ring on it (I may not know much, but I do know that Beyonce’s words are wisdom; like when everything is in a box to the left, she is serious). Seeing that we were engaged in Paris, I really wanted to partake in this made-up love locking ceremony. I’m a girl. Mushy things like this mean a lot to me.
It was really very simple. We found a secure lock at the Galerie Lafayette, one that could preferably resist bolt cutters. We wrote our names on it, locked it on a wire, made a wish and tossed the key into La Seine.
We know that the fate of that lock may be the same as the others: placed into a sentimental storage container. But, Paris, I ask you, why would you cut our love? This is the ONLY way for our love to be on show…
Well, this and Facebook.
Love locks on the Pont d’ Arts Bridge in Paris
Our lock
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