The sun enters my bedroom, and I hazily welcome its warmth. It’s quiet on the dark, wooden nightstand, where I spend most of my days, and where my owner has left me, alone, again – I’m always alone. What the hell? In the stores, they tell us wedding bands that we represent the many bonds of love, and that we are so important, and that people are going to love showing us off. If that’s the case, then why do I spend so much time sitting on this nightstand? Like tanned skin in the winter, my glimmering titanium exterior has begun to fade; accepting each layer of dust without declaration.  My partner – a titanium and black zirconium ring – gets all of the action. That slut has his owner’s finger going in and out of him over the entire course of the day. Doesn’t he get tired? I mean, servicing the same finger every single day must be exhausting, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Hell, I don’t know. He must be using awesome lube; cocoa butter lotion, if I had to guess. Let me stop, though. Because at least my partner is getting some action… and I’m beginning to sound like a jealous queen.  I love my owner. Sure, he may forget about me some days, but it’s not all days, I guess. Here on this nightstand is where I will stay, until he is ready to take me out for a day. I imagine it could be worse. At least I’m not locked up in that miserable glass case anymore…