... a spill.

Faux Red Rose

Tonight I choose to be in love.
Tomorrow morning I will be back to monotony.
If I am the one with the slapstick, placing the skins before I tread forward, then I am choosing when to fall into my fate.
Like the sleazy guy at the bar who falls in love with a different prostitute every night; I choose to be the person I am.

The time is 11:00am.
This morning, I was waiting for the bus as I do everyday day.
The direction may be different, but the transportation always the same.
The time is 11:02am.
The bus stops at my feet and I look up towards the advertisement on the side; another generic love story with the tag line “you can't help who you fall for.”
Now I don't give this a second thought until a lady behind me steps up onto the bus and sighs loudly so her friend has no choice but to ask;
“What's wrong?”
You know the kind of sigh I'm talking about; the kind of sigh that is deliberately blown your way. The kind of sigh that either a) you have to respond to and listen or b) you can ignore but will labelled a bad friend.
Now take your pick. Personally, after hearing this lady talk on I would have looked at her, blinked unresponsively then walked in the opposite direction.
But that's just me. I'm a bad friend.
The kind of friend that passes up hanging out to go and hand out red roses to any lucky somebody that walks my way.
Today is her lucky day, she walks by me and sits in the seat behind me. Unfortunately, she won't be getting one of my faux hand picked gifts.
“It just frustrates me when I see the phrase 'you can't help who you fall for'. It's offensive to everything I believe in.”
Oh do please go on. What she doesn't know is that she's about to offend me and my drive-by love attitude.
That's the problem with speaking in public; the domino effect of offense.
“There are so many things wrong with that phrase. The first thing being that it is an implication that love is an unavoidable accident, like spilt milk. The kind that you're not meant to cry over. The kind that could have been avoided if you'd never bought the milk in the first place. If you'd never set eye on that milk, then you would have no milk to spill. You should never think of love like that. Love is a necessity. Life is like a cake and love is a vital ingredient, you need it to make your life cake worth eating.”
Well that's true, well half true.
Love is avoidable for me, I plan when to fall in love. It's my unsuspecting victim who spills their milk over me. Yeah don't worry, I'm aware of how that sounds.
“The second part is the word 'fall' making it sound as though the inevitable outcome of being in love will be pain.”
So far I'm following, I understand her point but it's a little old fashioned perhaps.
“Love is meant to be something you enjoy, yet that phrase dismisses the happiness that love brings.”
Well here's my stop. Unfortunately for her friend she has to stay on and listen to the ramblings.
If only more conversations worked out this way for me.
The time is 11:11am. Make a wish.
To fall in love.
I walk ten steps down the road then take a left and enter the super market. The same directions. Monotony.
The same supermarket I go to every single week.
The time is 11:12am.
I walk into the fifth aisle and down to the dairy section. I could see what I'm looking for if it wasn't for the man standing in front of it, he's staring at the floor, blocking the shelves from my view.
I'm four steps from my destination and I'm so intent on my purchase and the curiosity of his movements that on my next step I slip.
And I fall.
And I look up to see the man apologising with his hand outstretched.
I reach out with my hand, dripping with his spilt milk and I think to myself.
The time is 11:15am and tonight I am going to be in love.


And with this i give you a spill.