Wednesday, July 13, 2011

I guess this means we can't be friends

Vacation. God love it. I have had the sweet delectability of having a few weeks away from reality to ponder life, anxiously await New York, and attempt a slew of watersports. In my 25th year of life I actually waterskied, well for a brief moment I was indeed on skis, in the water, moving in a forward motion, grasping the handle, only to get overly giddy, feeling so victorious that I promptly lost my balance and face-planted into the water giving my chin a nice case of water burn.
I even attempted wakeboarding and back flips off the raft. What's that you say, Cassandra, wakeboarding, waterskiing, and back flips in one week? Why that's madness, sheer madness! Yes, tis. But I guess I've got all sorts of ambition up my sleeves as of late. I am trying to do my 25th year justice.
Currently I am sitting in my sister's posh college apartment in Marquette, having already babbled with old friends, frolicked about in Lake Superior and squeezed in a hike. The hike was one of the first ones I attempted when I attended college here and re-hiking it after so long a time, instantly brought me back to one of my first times on the trail with one of my first loves.
Gosh, I felt so cool bringing him to that spot that I felt I myself had discovered. When in reality, this hike is in the middle of a park, only about a mile or two from town, yet I fancied myself Magellan, when I smugly swept my arms across the rugged cliffs jutting into the Superior, seeing if he was as impressed with me as I was.
Even though I brought him on a thrilling hike he'd never before experienced, introduced him to Wendy's fries dipped in frosty's, and bought him Eminem's album Encore, the relationship didn't last. Too sad for him. It's not everyday such an olympian, explorer, hip mixer of foods and flavor waltzes into your life man. Seize it. Carpe, Cassandra.
I say this in jest as I know said first college love is now married and because I am feeling fun and fancy free here on vacation. Oh and I got hit on in the deli today. I got the elusive double take. Yes! And then I was told with a smile like mine I must always get my way. I resisted the urge to guffaw and instead played it coy and collected, swatting my hand in the air like oh stop, you sweet man, while inwardly smiling like a deranged Cheshire cat.
I left the grocery store with aforementioned smile, almost drunk with delight but my balloon slowly deflated when I realized he could've gotten my number. I would've gladly forked over the digits most frequently used by my mother.
Ah, well, still it felt nice. I guess this means we can't be friends.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I like it!