A fictional freewrite.
Day 738: No added sugar.
See @mariannewest here - @mariannewest/day-738-5-minute-freewrite-monday-prompt-no-added-sugar - for further fond freewrite festivities!
We all know that girls are made of "sugar and spice and everything nice" and that boys.. well.. they aren't. We boys are apparently made of used motor oil, the odour of a neverending tire fire, and probably over-ripe avocado.
But I'm here to tell you that sometimes.. just sometimes... that isn't necessarily the case.
Back in college - and I'm reaching way, way back here, maybe 50 or 60 years or more, possibly 100 - I met this girl and she was perfect. Blonde. Short blonde. And short. At least, shorter than me. And with a smile that could knock out Joe Frasier. I was, without a doubt, infatuated. I sat near her in class just to be near her. She winked at me once and I thought I'd melt.
I was able to finally go for lunch with her one day. That lunch turned into another, and dinner, and finally a dance party. Now, I was way out of my comfort zone here. I could never, ever dance. My dancing made me look like one of those blow up stringy balloon creatures that hover around car dealerships. But I tried. Oh did I try. I thought that not only would the effort be noticed, but that she'd appreciate me going so far out of my comfort zone for her.
Well, she didn't. And after that party should refused to even speak to me. Because I couldn't dance! I never danced again. Not even tried to.
That girl definitely had no sugar added to her ingredients.
(c) All images and photographs, unless otherwise specified, are created and owned by me.
(c) Victor Wiebe
(design by remyrequinart: @remyrequenart)