My wife had some reservations and nervousness about trying a fountain pen, so I got her the most affordable worry-free non-disposable fountain pen available: a Platinum Preppy.
I chose a medium point nib for her to try to give her the smoothest, least-scratchy experience possible. Medium is as broad as Preppies come (and are only available in blue, black, red … and maybe clear?). Also: a medium Japanese-manufactured nib (like Platinum’s) is closer to a fine point in American and European manufactured pens.
Aaaaaand … she likes it!
After half-a-dozen lines, it became clearer to her that she didn’t have to press so hard — that with a fountain pen it is easier to write with smooth wetness when administering a lighter touch, letting the pen glide over the paper, letting the paper pull out the ink.
She was nervous about smearing ink all over (a problem for her with regular ballpoints, etc.) but none of that happened with her first couple of fountain-penned pages.
The best part for me was enjoying a little chunk of quiet time sitting at our table together just writing in our notebooks. Seeing her head bowed over her task … the focus I always admire when she’s lost in a sensual detail-rich task; she is so so pretty. I get a glimpse of what it might have been like had we been in school together … what it would have felt like to look at her in a classroom, close and yet far. Wrapped up in her own thoughts.
Normally I see her this way when she’s playing with a different kind of instrument: her bass. And then I get to hear her, too … vibrating through the floor … so rich and warm and enveloping. This sitting at the table together with our writing instruments and notebooks is a different quiet little animal to pet and dote on.
Sitting with her in this way — taking pleasure in writing our own things at the same time, seated at the same table — is both peaceful and exciting. I’m filled with contentment and gratitude: the feelings of being extremely lucky and blessed, like I have everything I could possibly want and it’s even better than what I dreamed of.
After nineteen years together I’ve enjoyed these feelings too many times to count. In earlier years together a lot of those times when I felt extraordinarily lucky and that all my dreams had come true (but even better than I could ever have possibly imagined) were connected to sex or other more adventure-filled moments. But getting older and just sitting at the table together journaling with no TV on … my dear honeybears, these are rich adventures, too, of intimate dailiness with midlife familiarity and HOME.
