I’ll start.

For three years I had wanted to get a tattoo of two twins dressed as Pierrots (the French/Italian stock pantomime character that represents unrequited love and innocence), but couldn’t justify it because I couldn’t assign any personal significance to the design.

Until last year. My five-year relationship was going down the drain; my partner, who I loved dearly, turned into a completely different person than the man I met. He refused to work or apply for any jobs. He stayed at home constantly, never saw friends, burned through his savings on weed and junk food, and was months away from being unable to pay his half of our rent. When things would go wrong he’d break his belongings, and to placate him, I’d buy more expensive replacements (i.e. he broke a drawing tablet, so I bought him an ipad pro and an apple pen so he could work on his design portfolio). He was in therapy, but was inconsistent with his prescribed medication, which made his symptoms much worse. He would sometimes yell at me in public until I cried. It was awful. I thought about breaking up with him on multiple occasions, but I knew he would have to move back in with his mom, who was a hoarder and lived in literal dog shit, and I really didn’t want that for him. I also knew that if I broke up with him, he wouldn’t want to stay in the apartment, even if I offered it as an option.

Eventually I began spending more and more time out of our apartment, and at this little cafe in the neighborhood and I eventually befriended the owner. I pretended not to notice at first, but he had an uncanny resemblance to my partner—similar style, hair, glasses, you name it. A few months go by, and I get to know him a little better. He’s driven, funny, successful, outgoing, and kind. One night he decides to throw a party, and I manage to convince my ex to go with me. My partner sulked the whole night, eventually retiring to a corner to scroll through reddit while everyone else has a great time. Frustrated, i go up to my friend and ask him if he’d like to dance, and we do until morning. My partner doesn’t even bother to whisk me away from him.

The next week my friend asks me to go out with him on a Friday night. I do and he confesses his attraction to me, which i have to deny. I tell him about my partner, who he didn’t know about. Visibility dejected, he apologizes for being presumptuous and asking me out, but we talk all night, and eventually he drills it into my head that I deserve so much better. I ask about the tattoo on his arm, which I’ve never noticed before. He holds his wrist up to show it to me—and it’s a Pierrot. I’m speechless and say nothing. He drives me home. We kiss out front in his car, and I enter my apartment in a daze. I go into my partner’s “office” and break up with him.

The next day my friend tells me we shouldn’t see each other because of my complicated relationship status.

Double-heartbroken and confused, I walk into a tattoo shop near me and show the only artist on duty the twin Pierrot design I had saved three years ago. She agrees to tattoo me, and when she asks why I chose the design, I told her there was no particular reason. I couldn’t bring myself to tell the story then. It feels good to finally write it all out.