My Sad Ever Afterly

After sloppily wandering up to the forth floor of the old hotel to my room, I dropped into bed and lay staring up at the bottom of bed (please, do not be confused; the bottom of the bunk bed above mine) and noticed scribblings from all the fallen girls before me who had apparently slept in this very place. I found it haunting and utterly romantic, being carved or written in permanent marker; especially the ones that followed.

I love you Jake with all my heart
I love you James with all my soul
Redheads are beautiful people
Mike Adams is cool (Yes, this one seemed out of place)
I (heart) Thomas and George
www.savethestorks.com 
I (heart) mancakes and Thor
I (heart) Reese with all my (heart) and I hope we will be married (heart)
Ronald Reagen rocks my sox

But what confused me the most was You are all mine Kimberly! Either it was the fact that a boy had also slept here (ew) or the fact that he was creepily saying, "YOU ARE ALL MINE."....disturbing the words you find written under beds. I began to think as only I can think; I wonder if my Mr. Dreamboat Curl Man is writing to me from under his bed. I imagined such doodles as, I love you my beautiful,quirky, slightly confused about life, girl-I-met-five-minutes-ago and I hope we will be married and get matching tattoos. Talk about the man for me.

I tried to sleep but I couldn't, this guy was just amazing.My mind began to skip ahead, what about the fact that he was obviously from far away and I was from far away (but far away from another direction) and the fact that I wasn't exactly of the legal age to be married.  People say that long distance relationships are shots in the dark, because they never work and you always end up fantasizing about him/her; making them out to be some amazingly cool/beautiful/intelligent/angelic being. I think that's preposterous and should be evaluated with a truckload of salt. This would never happen between myself and Curls. Our relationship was simply too sound.

Finally, my mind was so full of ideas, dreams, and mostly estrogen that I felt like a brown paper bag. At two in the morning, a love sick girl who is so terribly in love that she feels like a brown paper bag, can do naught but sleep a restless, tossfull sleep. Of course I dreamed about 'My Guy' and the dream may or may not have involved a sky blue convertable with the top down and lots of xoxoxoxoxoxoxo. Strictly girl stuff and all, nothing guys would like; apparently perfect rot to them. I woke up and smelled bacon frying and literly leaped from my bed, over my roommate, brushed my teeth, straightened my hair, and dappled with some makeup all  in under thirty seconds. Rushed downstairs, holding my breath and ready to basically spring myself upon Mr. Curls and maybe fake a good faint (so he could catch me)....as I rounded the corner my heart stopped beating.

Mr. Curls was sitting outside on the deck, shirtless, laughing with some other guys about something only shirtless guys can laugh at. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so how five other girls could simply shuffle past without stopping to drool; amazes me to pieces. I glanced in the mirror and surveyed my appearance, my nose looked smaller, my hair wasn't killing anyone, my eyes actually looked pretty and my nails were clean. Time to go in for the killing. I poked my head out the door and smiled a toothy smile (not the best thing to do so early in the morning) and tried to start breathing again.

I heard a noise across the street and noticed the sketchy bandit guy running away from a small child, stealing it's cupcake.The child was now crying.

Apparently when that strange warewolfish dude in Twilight took of his shirt in the movies the first reaction was was follows:
"He's SOOOO hot."
"He's MINE!"
"MARRRRY me! Now!"

And a general screeching and yelling that caused massive headaches for miles. When I saw a slightly-clothed, Curls, sitting in the morning sun, flexing naturally just to breathe.....my ability to think, breath, or reason shrunk from all reason. But I didn't cause massive chaos or scream, "He's SOOOO hot." At least not aloud.... He was just too much and I was just too in love and I still had thirteen whole days with my Curly guy. I was just very excited, maybe a bit too excited, because as I 'casually' walked outside towards him, I found myself on top of him. I was stammering apologies, murmuring something about a demon cat and a sudden gust of unexpected wind. He smiled ridiculously much and helped me up and said he wasn't in the least, injured.

Suddenly a cute voice chirped delightfully, " Aaaaron baby...." I think I made a noise between a tortoise being stuffed and a armadillo being scraped across icy pavement.

"Yeah Babe?" he said looking away from me and towards the steps. A beautiful girl; thin like a piece of chalk, hair fluttering about in her face, catching on her lip gloss like a spiderweb on sweaty skin. She was wearing a silly pink get up with the words 'PINK' plastered across her shapely rear. I frowned and lifted a bushman eyebrow higher than humanly possibly; listening to the conversation playing out before me.
"Are you ready to go, Honey Pie?" she sung.
"Just coming my Foxy Lady." and he turned back to me and said, "See ya later kid."

I'm am not usually the type to strike people, or make their nose's bleed or pluck out their eyeballs. Usually being the key word here, in this instance, my eyes went black, my nose turned into a witchly spiral, my finger nails grew several inches and I pounced. The girlfriend ran screaming towards her cute little pink Porsche, and Mr. Evil Aaron lay gasping for breath on the ground and I simply turned and walked inside, following my nose towards the crispy smell of breakfast bacon.

 The Moral of THIS story: Don't fall in love with curly haired men at American summer camps and always eat bacon, it just makes life so much better.