The Time I Was In Love

Happy Valentine's Day

Lezbehonest for a second guys, I'm single (hi there bachelors ;) ). Valentine's Day has never been my favorite holiday. It's a Hallmark holiday about a fat baby that shoots people with an arrow... I'm sorry, what? Do you need to be drunk to understand the point of this holiday?

Don't get me wrong - I'm definitely not bitter in the slightest. I always make the best of every Valentine's Day, and when I was in Elementary school I loved this 'holiday'. We always got to have 'craft time' the day before V-Day: we would decorate a brown paper bag with our name, hearts, glitter, confetti, etc. and tape it to the front of our desk to collect all of our pretty little Valentines that we would get from our classmates. Any day that I got to glue glitter and hearts to something, was a good day in my book. But making a craft that is used to collect pretty little cards from your BFF's and cute boys? Best school-day holiday, ever.



I digress...

Since all of you disgustingly adorable couples are so full of love today, I figured I should write about the time I was in love.

It feels like it was a lifetime ago, honestly. The day I met my love, was a life-changing day. You could say it was love at first sight, and it was a sure thing. We instantly had that connection, and I'm pretty sure the feelings were mutual.

We spent every second that we could together. Perhaps that's where we went wrong. I think that the love was too strong, and far too intense. If we hadn't been so inseparable then perhaps when things ended, it wouldn't have hurt so badly. This is what my mom has reassured me of, and I can't disagree. The love that grew inside me, so fast and so strong, was a pure kind of love. The kind of love that cannot be duplicated. It was uncomplicated, it was fun, and to me: it was perfect.
I hope I can someday find this kind of love, again.

I can honestly say that I've never been the same since then... and, most likely, I'm the person that I am today as a result. I most likely would still be the same person whether I had this spoon or not, but I feel as though it may have been a pivotal point in my growth.

Did you catch my last paragraph? I didn't think so... I'll just make this clearer.
This is the point where I tell you that my true love was a spoon. But guys, it was not just any spoon. It was a big, shiny, red Dairy Queen spoon.



This spoon was my life - for the whole 48 hours that I had it. It went EVERYWHERE that I went. When you're three years old, it's perfectly acceptable to have such a deep love for an inanimate object, right? RIGHT? Okay, moving on...

Our tragic love story came to an abrupt halt when my brother, who was five at the time, decided that my love for said spoon was not okay. So he took my spoon, and snapped it in half. I cried, no, sobbed... for hours minutes, but it seemed like an eternity to my parents, I'm sure. Don't worry, my brother was punished for this, and lets just say that one of his toys accidentally broke. You've got to love having parents who believe in 100% fairness between their children - despite the fact that my favorite toy was just a red Dairy Queen spoon, which I'm pretty sure my parents replaced for me.

To this day, my brother is still bitter that his favorite G.I. Joe was broken in order to teach him a lesson about breaking his sisters things. I don't think my brother will truly ever get over it, but it's okay because I'll never really get over the loss of my dear red spoon.

Note to my future husband (if you're reading this): I will love you, but now you will understand that I will always have a certain type of love in my heart that can never be duplicated. You can try, and I hope you do, but you probably won't succeed.