Fortune 500

He hands me his watch. That's how our date always starts. I love how a big watch looks majestic on my tiny wrist. It's a brand new Patek, his newest acquisition from Geneva. He tells me how he spent over two hours picking this watch. He no longer asks for it back. He knows the watch will be loosely hung on my wrist for the week we are together.

The first time I took his watch, a vintage Cartier, he was nervous. Rightly so. There I was, within 15 minutes of meeting a stranger, wearing the paychecks of 7 average households on my wrist. But that's old news.

Fortune 500 likes to flaunt his wealth. It's always the "it" restaurant and the most expensive bottle of wine with him. And a Learjet. Ah, the luxuries... but alas, it's only a week with.

I've known Fortune 500 for a very long time. I met him before his nickname became Fortune 500. We did much celebrating when he proudly rang the opening bell at the NYSE. We bit (mostly he) much nail biting when the company was attacked by vulchers and forced to restructure. We toasted the comeback at a quaint little restaurant in NYC, which he rented out for just the two of us for the evening.

Fortune 500 and I never lived in a same city. But, that's what airplane was invented for.

So off the airplane, we spend a week together, like we did last year, and the year before, and the year before that, and before that x many. We eat, go see operas, shop, sleep, like a regular couple. It alawys pisses him off that I cannot sleep in. It's physically impossible for me to be snoozing pass 7 AM - no matter which time zone we are in. An entire week goes by...

I hand his watch back to him. Fortune 500 reluctantly takes it back. He knows the watch is like the baton which signals the end of our time together.