The One that Got Away
She was six ... but don't get the wrong idea! I was around five or six too, and our playtime courtship developed over many months at my daycare into the all-out genuine relationship that it was. We watched the clouds and picked out the shapes, "Ooh, a butterfly!" "Ooh, a dolphin!" She lied through her teeth and I believed her--about how on her trip to Disneyland she'd been turned into a frog by a magician--about how she'd reached outside the airplane and tasted one of those clouds (yes, they do taste like cotton candy!). We played house in the plastic house, she'd get all mad when I wasn't home at a decent hour. I'd tell her how I got all backed up at the office and decided to go blow a few minutes at the sandbox... you know, the typical stuff.
It was all so wonderful, we promised to get married someday. We'd even keep a piece of bark off the tree as a memorial that we were engaged (don't ask). But it was not to be. Shortly before she was taken out of that daycare, we officially broke up. To this day I don't remember how it happened, whether it was something I said or did, all I know is that whatever it was, it was somehow my fault... (that's girls for you). She wouldn't accept my apologies for nothing, and even mocked my desperate pleas. It was pointless to try, we both knew it--even if she wasn't going away, we could never go back to the way it was. But my heart was broken that summer--for maybe two of three hours.
So Kim, just to let you know, if you're not taken yet, I'm still available. (wink)
(Oh yeah, if you're reading this, sorry about the Halloween party and how I got my plastic fishing pole hook caught in your Little Mermaid outfit... that was... only somewhat funny, and I learned my lesson).