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Feb. 15th, 2007 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sroniOkay, so for Valentine's Day, I decorated our apartment at about one in the morning to surprise David and Steph today. And then, today, I drew ten candy hearts, and wrote a story, incorporating the ten words. This is the end result.
Soul Mate
Soul mate. That's a corny phrase and always has been. It's like some sort of throwback to centuries that have come and gone. It implies that there's only one person in the whole world that can make you happy, and I just couldn't go for that theory. I mean, the world is a big place. Who's to say that one person can't live in Australia and their soul mate is in Russia? Not only would they not speak the same language, but they'd probably never meet. Now how would that be fair? I guess that's why I refused to believe in soul mates. I didn't want to be a casualty of love. Okay, so I also have the capacity to be mondo corny. Sue me.
Anyway, all that is background information to explain my reaction when I met my best friend. He was the new boy that wore loud shirts, and I was the girl that was too cool for words, and I knew it. I was also assigned to show him around the school, and get him caught up in Spanish. Yeah, right. Get real. The only reason I was at the top of my spanish class was because I cheated off my friend Justin's papers, and he freaked out on tests, while I'm a lucky guesser. Justin and I had worked out a deal a few years before. I copied his spanish homework, and he copied my math. 'Course, I got the better end of the deal, since I was an A Spanish student, and both of us were flunking math, but... I'm getting off topic. Anyway, I had to show Andy around, and my skin kept prickling around him. And I couldn't stop blushing. I know, I know, I turn red at the drop of a hat (sometimes without the drop or the hat), but still. It was annoying as heck. So I was already on edge that first day, when he said, "Email me?" Gotta give him props for not using a tired old line.
I had a moment where my mouth worked without my brain's permission. "No way. I don't email randome people."
"I'm not a random person."
"You are until I say otherwise. GOt it?"
He nodded. "Yes. You've made that abundantly clear."
That was years ago. That was before he became my best friend. Before we dated. Before we broke up, and before we got back together, and then repeated the process five or six tmes. We were both extremely volatile people.
I woke up this Valentine's Day with candy hears spelling me a message on the coffee table: Miss you. Love me.
Isn't that the sweetest thing? That's my boy. He's only at work, but he does sweet things like that all the time. IT never gets old.
New love? Definately not. Husband and love of my life? Without a doubt. Soul mate? I guess I was lucky that neither of us lived in Russia.
Soul Mate
Soul mate. That's a corny phrase and always has been. It's like some sort of throwback to centuries that have come and gone. It implies that there's only one person in the whole world that can make you happy, and I just couldn't go for that theory. I mean, the world is a big place. Who's to say that one person can't live in Australia and their soul mate is in Russia? Not only would they not speak the same language, but they'd probably never meet. Now how would that be fair? I guess that's why I refused to believe in soul mates. I didn't want to be a casualty of love. Okay, so I also have the capacity to be mondo corny. Sue me.
Anyway, all that is background information to explain my reaction when I met my best friend. He was the new boy that wore loud shirts, and I was the girl that was too cool for words, and I knew it. I was also assigned to show him around the school, and get him caught up in Spanish. Yeah, right. Get real. The only reason I was at the top of my spanish class was because I cheated off my friend Justin's papers, and he freaked out on tests, while I'm a lucky guesser. Justin and I had worked out a deal a few years before. I copied his spanish homework, and he copied my math. 'Course, I got the better end of the deal, since I was an A Spanish student, and both of us were flunking math, but... I'm getting off topic. Anyway, I had to show Andy around, and my skin kept prickling around him. And I couldn't stop blushing. I know, I know, I turn red at the drop of a hat (sometimes without the drop or the hat), but still. It was annoying as heck. So I was already on edge that first day, when he said, "Email me?" Gotta give him props for not using a tired old line.
I had a moment where my mouth worked without my brain's permission. "No way. I don't email randome people."
"I'm not a random person."
"You are until I say otherwise. GOt it?"
He nodded. "Yes. You've made that abundantly clear."
That was years ago. That was before he became my best friend. Before we dated. Before we broke up, and before we got back together, and then repeated the process five or six tmes. We were both extremely volatile people.
I woke up this Valentine's Day with candy hears spelling me a message on the coffee table: Miss you. Love me.
Isn't that the sweetest thing? That's my boy. He's only at work, but he does sweet things like that all the time. IT never gets old.
New love? Definately not. Husband and love of my life? Without a doubt. Soul mate? I guess I was lucky that neither of us lived in Russia.
