Confessions of a Pen Slut

I confess. I'm a pen slut. Nothing tempts me to break the "Thou Shalt Not Steal" commandment like the sight of a pen that looks great and writes like pens were meant to. I have a real weakness for old-fashioned fountain pens and calligraphy pens. There's something about nibs. There's a nib for every occasion. It's so easy to find one to fit your mood and your mode of writing.

My husband is the hero type. He isn't afraid of much of anything. But the sight of a shopping mall containing an office supply store, a Barnes Noble or anywhere else pens might lurk makes him break out in a sweat every time. He'll take me to any Payless Shoe store or even any mall - as long as there are no pen sources inside. He's even been known to activate the little child safety switch that prevents me from unlocking my own door when we get close to BN.

He fears my escaping into a pen store and never coming out - at least not for several hours. Worse would be having to peel me off the display case that I've drooled all over. Forget shoes. Forget clothes. Pens are where its at.

Sharing is NEVER an option. Touch my pens and I'll have to kill you. I carry a huge purse, in part because it's the simplest way to keep at least 20 of my favorite pens with me at all times. There's the fine and precise V5 by pilot. I carry one of each available color at all times. Blue ink is my favorite today but that could change. There's also the unusual brown ink pen given away by CarHart. But the creme de la creme, the crème de la crème, the pièces de résistance, is the fountain pen.

Even when the pen itself is marked by age (like my grandfather's favorite MontBlanc), there's still something very elegant, very eloquent, in the way the pen produces a line of ink befitting both the writing and the muse. I could easily spend hours writing with a real pen. Of course, ordinary paper just won't do. My current favorite is a sketch notebook with blank paper that isn't too thick yet isn't too thin either. The ordinary grocery list becomes a work of art. So does my 'to do' list.

I love pens. I watch the television series, Criminal Minds, for two reasons. Shemar Moore (Derek) and the different pens Kirsten (Garcia) uses. I think its great that other viewers of the show send pens to Kirsten. I could never do that. Not with a pen I cared about at all. And the ones I don't care about aren't worth sharing with the world.

Pens are powerful. They put style into ordinary words and flair into signatures. How often have you practiced writing your name in different ways? Pens are never blamed for the message they carry. No matter how cold and hard the truth may be. Pens are innocent vehicles for a complex language.

My latest acquisition is a shiny, sleek executive pen. A stranger gave it to me while I was at a store. He saw my difficulty in writing with the balky, cheap Bic throwaway. Seeing a damsel in distress, he went above and beyond the call of a gentleman. He didn't just loan me his pen - he GAVE me his pen.

Angels broke out in heavenly chorus. I signed with an exceedingly pleasing flair. I did manage to find the words to thank the man. Noticing the puzzled way he watched me, I had to confess. "I'm a pen slut." He broke into a knowing grin and told me to enjoy. I took my latest pen to work and made it clear to everyone that this pen was MINE.