And they lived happily ever after.
With Scarlett's help, I have finally figured out how Charlie made the transition from a mere booty call to being the love of my life.
It's really quite simple, and naturally doesn't have anything really to do with him.
It's just that the circumstances surrounding how we met make such a beautiful story.
To be quite honest, I'm not even sure what he looks like, but that's just because I'm bad at description and recalling faces off-hand. 6'3, sandy brown hair, medium-athletic build describes a ton of people out there. Hell, it took me a good 6 months of dating fuckwit before I was able to give a description beyond 6'4, blond and blue-eyed.
Anyways. I can see the wedding toasts now. Charlie's twin brother, who has been given the name James because that's what he looks like (of course that's not his real name, and yes they're identical twins but one looks like a Charlie and one a James, I swear), can stand up, and crack a couple of jokes about how he tried to hit on me, even using the same cheesy lines that his brother used (for instance, "If you can't love Paris, you can't fall in love"), but to no avail - he knew that Charlie and I were fated to end up together. Scarlett can recount about how "infatuated" I was with him afterwards (okay, more in love with the story, but he doesn't have to know that) and how I kept referring to him as "the love of my life." People who were seated at our table can tell lovely tales about how they just saw the sparks flying between the two of us (more because he kept insulting France than anything else, but that part can be omitted too). So on, and so forth.
I mean, I'd even let Brooke and Mark take the credit for our meeting, and they could say something to that effect, how their wedding eventually inspired another one, how they just knew that we'd hit it off, hence their seating us next to each other.
It just makes such a lovely tale!
Did I mention that I've decided that since I don't like his last name, it's going to have to be changed to Darling? If you are female, try it out with your first name. Ellen Darling. Jennifer Darling. Chiara Darling. Sue-Ellen Darling. Doesn't it sound lovely, no matter what your first name is? If you are male, I'm sorry, it sounds a little effeminate but such sacrifices should be made so that your wife and children can have adorable names.
And! The potential icing on the cake? I seem to be missing one of the shoes I wore that night. This is most unfortunate because I love these shoes. They are The Perfect Strappy Black Heel - a 3.5 inch heel that's slender yet still sturdy, elegant straps crossing over the front of my foot, another delicate one wrapping just below the ankle, so that it doesn't cut across the ankle and therefore make my legs potentially look short. And they are comfortable, as well. However, in switching between those shoes and my flipflops after the wedding, it appears that one went missing. Neither hotel says that any shoes have been turned in, so I probably should suck it up and accept that it's been sacrificed to the gods of one-night stands. But Katie, indulging me, says that Charlie is keeping the shoe hostage, and he won't relinquish it until I contact him. Obviously, if he had the shoe he should contact me first for the love of God, what would someone want with only one shoe - but who cares, it adds a very Cinderella-esque aspect to this fairy-tale of a story, don't you see?
Hey, I never professed to sanity. So allow me my fanciful delusions. I know that in harsh reality, we will probably never see each other again. And even if we did - he hates France, prefers beer to wine and is in law school - all big problems for me. But I Like My Story.
And that is why he is the love of my life. Because who cares about the prince of the story when the story itself is so magnificent?
It's really quite simple, and naturally doesn't have anything really to do with him.
It's just that the circumstances surrounding how we met make such a beautiful story.
To be quite honest, I'm not even sure what he looks like, but that's just because I'm bad at description and recalling faces off-hand. 6'3, sandy brown hair, medium-athletic build describes a ton of people out there. Hell, it took me a good 6 months of dating fuckwit before I was able to give a description beyond 6'4, blond and blue-eyed.
Anyways. I can see the wedding toasts now. Charlie's twin brother, who has been given the name James because that's what he looks like (of course that's not his real name, and yes they're identical twins but one looks like a Charlie and one a James, I swear), can stand up, and crack a couple of jokes about how he tried to hit on me, even using the same cheesy lines that his brother used (for instance, "If you can't love Paris, you can't fall in love"), but to no avail - he knew that Charlie and I were fated to end up together. Scarlett can recount about how "infatuated" I was with him afterwards (okay, more in love with the story, but he doesn't have to know that) and how I kept referring to him as "the love of my life." People who were seated at our table can tell lovely tales about how they just saw the sparks flying between the two of us (more because he kept insulting France than anything else, but that part can be omitted too). So on, and so forth.
I mean, I'd even let Brooke and Mark take the credit for our meeting, and they could say something to that effect, how their wedding eventually inspired another one, how they just knew that we'd hit it off, hence their seating us next to each other.
It just makes such a lovely tale!
Did I mention that I've decided that since I don't like his last name, it's going to have to be changed to Darling? If you are female, try it out with your first name. Ellen Darling. Jennifer Darling. Chiara Darling. Sue-Ellen Darling. Doesn't it sound lovely, no matter what your first name is? If you are male, I'm sorry, it sounds a little effeminate but such sacrifices should be made so that your wife and children can have adorable names.
And! The potential icing on the cake? I seem to be missing one of the shoes I wore that night. This is most unfortunate because I love these shoes. They are The Perfect Strappy Black Heel - a 3.5 inch heel that's slender yet still sturdy, elegant straps crossing over the front of my foot, another delicate one wrapping just below the ankle, so that it doesn't cut across the ankle and therefore make my legs potentially look short. And they are comfortable, as well. However, in switching between those shoes and my flipflops after the wedding, it appears that one went missing. Neither hotel says that any shoes have been turned in, so I probably should suck it up and accept that it's been sacrificed to the gods of one-night stands. But Katie, indulging me, says that Charlie is keeping the shoe hostage, and he won't relinquish it until I contact him. Obviously, if he had the shoe he should contact me first for the love of God, what would someone want with only one shoe - but who cares, it adds a very Cinderella-esque aspect to this fairy-tale of a story, don't you see?
Hey, I never professed to sanity. So allow me my fanciful delusions. I know that in harsh reality, we will probably never see each other again. And even if we did - he hates France, prefers beer to wine and is in law school - all big problems for me. But I Like My Story.
And that is why he is the love of my life. Because who cares about the prince of the story when the story itself is so magnificent?
posted at 10:21
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