End Kwote

After it's all said and done, life's just a bunch of kwotes

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” I said. It was loud in the bar, so I had to raise my voice.

“I fully support that decision,” my friend says to me.

I could see her there through the crowd. She’d been looking at me all night and smiling. I hadn’t even said a word to her. It was like every time our eyes met I was telepathically telling her some silly joke.

I take a drink because, you know, liquid courage. And when I look back at her, she’s smiling again. I smile back.

“Here we go,” I say, and for some reason I pretend I’m going on an important mission.

I walk over to her.

Along the way, I step on my shoelace, and it goes form being double knotted to single knotted. So I stop, kneel down, and double knot it again, because I’m so damn smooth that I can’t afford to being walking around with a single knot. Then I keep going, because I’ve come this far, and I’m not about to abort mission.

She’s dancing there. Her name is Melissa. I like to say her name because I think it sounds kind of magical, like something you’d say to cast a spell on someone. I know her name, but we’ve never actually met. Weird how that works nowadays.

I finally get to her.

“Hey,” I’m like.

“Hi,” she says in that enthusiastic way that girls have seemed to master.

“Wana dance?” I ask, because I’m so damn smooth that I don’t dare ask how she’s doing.

“Sure,” she says. Then she asks me something, but I can’t hear her on account of it’s so loud.

“What?” I say.

Then, at the same exact moment, we lean in so we can hear each other better.

And when we lean in, we smash our heads together.

My glasses come off and fall to the floor. I think I hear my self-confidence land right next to them.

I pick them up and before putting them back on, I clean them off, because I’m so damn smooth that I can’t be wearing dirty glasses.

“I’m sorry,” I say. She’s rubbing her forehead and even though it’s dark, I can see she’s blushing.

“Hey,” the girl dancing with Melissa says to her. She whispers something in Melissa’s ear. The friend’s got frizzy brown hair, and the look she shoots me makes me feel like I have a booger hanging out of my nose.

I check my nose.

No boogers.

Melissa nods her head at whatever her friend told her.

“I’m gonna go over here. But I’ll be right back.”

“Ok,” I say, wanting so badly to believe her.

She walks away and disappears into the crowd.

I walk back to my friend who fully supported my decision.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“Pretty good,” I’m like. “I think she really likes me.” Then I order two shots of whiskey, hoping that they’ll help me forget that night that I officially met Melissa.


 

Meet Cute: a fictional scene, typically in film or television, in which a future romantic couple meets for the first time in a way that is considered adorable, entertaining, or amusing.

Fairly recently, I discovered what a meet cute was. The teacher of my music appreciation class taught it to me. We were talking about musicals I think. For some reason, the term struck me so much that I wrote it down and circled it about twenty times, which is for some reason what I do when I hear an interesting word or term.

Since I’ve been on Christmas break, I’ve been doing a lot of reading. I’ve been paying particular attention to how characters in novels meet and what happens to their relationships as the story progresses. Not all the characters experience a meet cute as is defined above. Some do, while others meet under rather plain circumstances. Regardless, my attention to how characters meet brought the term “meet cute” to the forefront of my mind. The term rumbled around in there, as many things do (there’s a lot of empty space in my head), and eventually, I came up with this:

Meet Not Cute: a fictional scene (or perhaps one based on non-fictional experience) in which two people who are doomed to never experience romance together meet in way that is considered unfortunate, embarrassing, awkward, shameful, and sometimes degrading.

Is this meet not cute based on real experience? I’ll never tell. But I do have a few ideas for other tidbits like this bubbling in my brain. So, stay tuned.

Until we (not so cutely) meet again.

End Kwote.

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