The other day, near the Burberry cologne counter at Dillards, I bumped into my good friend Colette. I had known Colette since the seventh grade, when her mouth was full of metal and her hair was full of butterflies, and have had a crush ever since. We hung out during high school and even went to prom together, but during my first year in college we sorta fell out of touch...mostly because Colette never paid her phone bill. So you can imagine how ecstatic I was to see her.
COLETTE: David?!
ME: Hey!
COLETTE: What's up?! How've you been?!
ME: I'm good. Just...shopping.
COLETTE: Me too!
ME: Yeah, I can tell...
COLETTE: Hey! Wanna help me pick out a Coach bag?
Coach bag? Seriously? Was I the only one who remembered that this was the same girl who used to sew on patches of rock bands onto a denim bag she bought at Target? Obviously, the girl had changed, and yet, I was still the same blubbering idiot who stuttered and sweated when in her pressence.
While I blabbered on, something about dolphins (whatever...I dont wanna talk about it!) Colette admired the assortment of Coach bags, behind the bullet-proof counter. And it was during this time, that a flood of my saliva showered out of my mouth and onto her lime-green halter. Because her head was turned, Colette couldnt see what I saw...my spit, slowly slithering down, making it's way to her denim capris. As luck would have it, the Optic Signature Shoulder Tote Colette was trying on for size, stopped my runny spit and saved me from further embarassment. God bless Coach.
Colette bought the bag, and not a moment too soon, since Dillards was now closed. I walked Colette to her car and told her, that her newly streaked hair, made her look like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffanys. She, of course, had no idea who I was talking about, and didnt know whether or not I had given her a compliment or a slap across the face.
ME: You've never seen Breakfast at Tiffany's?
COLETTE: Who's Tiffany? And why is she having breakfast?
ME: Tiffany isnt a girl. It's a place. The jewelery place?
COLETTE: Oh. Ok. I didnt know you could have breakfast there.
ME: You cant...it's just...the name of the movie.
Ok, I'll admit. Colette wasnt exactly the brightest diamond in the rough, and was a few carats short of a tennis bracelet from Tiffanys, but she was still cute. And as we all know, the rules according to guys, clearly state that "cuteness rules over intelligence any day of the week."
Because my car was on the other side of the mall, Collette offered me a ride, while I tried to convince her that my Audrey Hepburn comment was a total compliment. We arrived at my car, and just as I was stepping out, I was also in the middle of telling Colette that she needed to check out that movie. Before I even had a chance to shut the door, Colette drove away. I was plauged with confusedness. I mean, sure, Colette gave me her new number and told me to call her, but maybe her driving away was meant to be some kind of coded tu culpa?
There were so many questions I wanted her to answer, but would not ask. Not tonight, at least. But soon. Unfortunately I couldnt find anyone who thought talking to Colette was a good idea. My friend Madelaine suggested my best would be to forget the mess that was Colette, but I couldnt. And after seeing her again yesterday, I'm not so sure...
As I was blog-surfing, I read on my fellow blog friend Johanna Edward's blog about that newly controversial book, How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life by Kaavya Viswanathan, a story written by a girl, who had a secret herself. Allegedly, this young author had plagiarized many passages from other chick-lit novels, and so of course, I went to the mall to investigate. And it was there that I saw Colette.
COLETTE: David! What are you doing here?
ME: Well, I'm not shopping for jeans.
COLETTE: Yeah...I'm...
ME: Hey, I'm sorry I didnt call you.
As I waited for a response from Colette, I noticed a really strange guy standing next to Colette. He had dark, curly hair and was wearing one of those really retro shirts with a dragon print on it. (Hm. So that's who's keeping that company in business, huh?) He was the epitome of geek, but there he was holding hands with Colette.
ME: Hi.
GEEK: Hey what's up.
ME: So you're...
COLETTE: Ok, well, I'll call you, then! Bye!
The girl couldnt get away from me faster. And as I saw her and her alleged boyfriend leave the book store, I wondered, what's up with Colette? Why did she keep running away from me? Was it something I said or something I did? And who was that weird guy she was holding hands with? What kind of secret was Colette trying to hide, and is it really worth finding out?
COLETTE: David?!
ME: Hey!
COLETTE: What's up?! How've you been?!
ME: I'm good. Just...shopping.
COLETTE: Me too!
ME: Yeah, I can tell...
COLETTE: Hey! Wanna help me pick out a Coach bag?
Coach bag? Seriously? Was I the only one who remembered that this was the same girl who used to sew on patches of rock bands onto a denim bag she bought at Target? Obviously, the girl had changed, and yet, I was still the same blubbering idiot who stuttered and sweated when in her pressence.
While I blabbered on, something about dolphins (whatever...I dont wanna talk about it!) Colette admired the assortment of Coach bags, behind the bullet-proof counter. And it was during this time, that a flood of my saliva showered out of my mouth and onto her lime-green halter. Because her head was turned, Colette couldnt see what I saw...my spit, slowly slithering down, making it's way to her denim capris. As luck would have it, the Optic Signature Shoulder Tote Colette was trying on for size, stopped my runny spit and saved me from further embarassment. God bless Coach.
Colette bought the bag, and not a moment too soon, since Dillards was now closed. I walked Colette to her car and told her, that her newly streaked hair, made her look like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffanys. She, of course, had no idea who I was talking about, and didnt know whether or not I had given her a compliment or a slap across the face.
ME: You've never seen Breakfast at Tiffany's?
COLETTE: Who's Tiffany? And why is she having breakfast?
ME: Tiffany isnt a girl. It's a place. The jewelery place?
COLETTE: Oh. Ok. I didnt know you could have breakfast there.
ME: You cant...it's just...the name of the movie.
Ok, I'll admit. Colette wasnt exactly the brightest diamond in the rough, and was a few carats short of a tennis bracelet from Tiffanys, but she was still cute. And as we all know, the rules according to guys, clearly state that "cuteness rules over intelligence any day of the week."
Because my car was on the other side of the mall, Collette offered me a ride, while I tried to convince her that my Audrey Hepburn comment was a total compliment. We arrived at my car, and just as I was stepping out, I was also in the middle of telling Colette that she needed to check out that movie. Before I even had a chance to shut the door, Colette drove away. I was plauged with confusedness. I mean, sure, Colette gave me her new number and told me to call her, but maybe her driving away was meant to be some kind of coded tu culpa?
There were so many questions I wanted her to answer, but would not ask. Not tonight, at least. But soon. Unfortunately I couldnt find anyone who thought talking to Colette was a good idea. My friend Madelaine suggested my best would be to forget the mess that was Colette, but I couldnt. And after seeing her again yesterday, I'm not so sure...
As I was blog-surfing, I read on my fellow blog friend Johanna Edward's blog about that newly controversial book, How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life by Kaavya Viswanathan, a story written by a girl, who had a secret herself. Allegedly, this young author had plagiarized many passages from other chick-lit novels, and so of course, I went to the mall to investigate. And it was there that I saw Colette.
COLETTE: David! What are you doing here?
ME: Well, I'm not shopping for jeans.
COLETTE: Yeah...I'm...
ME: Hey, I'm sorry I didnt call you.
As I waited for a response from Colette, I noticed a really strange guy standing next to Colette. He had dark, curly hair and was wearing one of those really retro shirts with a dragon print on it. (Hm. So that's who's keeping that company in business, huh?) He was the epitome of geek, but there he was holding hands with Colette.
ME: Hi.
GEEK: Hey what's up.
ME: So you're...
COLETTE: Ok, well, I'll call you, then! Bye!
The girl couldnt get away from me faster. And as I saw her and her alleged boyfriend leave the book store, I wondered, what's up with Colette? Why did she keep running away from me? Was it something I said or something I did? And who was that weird guy she was holding hands with? What kind of secret was Colette trying to hide, and is it really worth finding out?
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