Thursday

As Promised.

As a result of Pluto's passing and the perpetual state of madness that's taken over work for the last few weeks, my inability to write has been heavily compromised.
"I sent you the the report on what you ask yesterday night. Did you receive itt?" <--This is a real-life sentence in an email I sent to my boss yesterday.

While this shit storm subsides, I decided to post the first chapter of my book for your viewing pleasure. Seeing that it's a whole chapter I'm dividing it into a couple of posts so it doesn't drag major ass. You can stop reading whenever you like. You can also opine that it sucks. Just please don't tell me because in my mind it's fabulous and shall sell millions upon millions of copies.

The book, which I've aptly titled Heartbreak for Dinner, is a collection of real life stories centering around doomed romances. That doesn't sound very grand except when I fail, I fail with a bang. Granted things become a bit weirder and more x-rated as the book progresses, but I won't publish that here for fear you'll never buy my book.

Anywho... Enjoy.

The Age of Annah-Sense

I keep hearing of this stage in a girl’s life where she’s completely and utterly repulsed by members of the opposite sex. Cooties, they call it, as I listen in bewildered silence and wonder What the fuck is wrong with these people? Clearly I’ve never been afflicted by such an abomination, yet I wonder if cooties have some sort of positive weight on the outcome of our romantic endeavors once we're rid of them.

As I verge thirty and the prospects of finding "The One" become less and less plausible, I begin to question where things went wrong. Did I watch too many episodes of Sex & The City thinking Mr. Big would drop from the sky in the middle of yoga? Or are cooties a rite of passage one must experience in order to find their true soul mate?

I contemplate the many times my heart’s been broken and start to think maybe I’m developing adult cooties, the kind where men have driven me so far from the jaws of hope I begin to consider dating women. I circle back to all those failed attempts at true love and as I hone in on where it all began, it inevitably leads back to him. We all have one relationship that sets a precedent for everything following the wretched road I call dating. The day I set eyes on his dimpled smile and jet black hair I knew he was different, my heart beating me into another stratosphere as I mulled over ways to get his attention.

Johnny was the sort of boy destined to break hearts straight out of the womb. Despite living in a country where most guys are born to be Carlos or Ricardo, my beloved’s mom decided to name him after her uncle’s favorite singer, Johnny Cash. My parents named me after the main character in a Russian book so obviously we were meant to be. For Cuban children, finding a mate becomes a competitive sport one must partake in early, as it’s probable you’ll end up marrying your pre-K sweetheart before you turn twenty. With this in mind, I felt it was my duty to secure my future with Johnny early on. I mean, it's never too early to work on true love and age ain't nuthin' but a number.

Or something like that.
---
Standing out in a sea of 1st graders is a challenging feat, especially when the uniform you’re forced to rock every day looks like this:
I gathered as much confidence as a tall and chubby six-year-old with 80’s hair could gather. In the grand scheme of things, I was pretty friggin’ adorable.
Operation Johnny Cash was in full-fledged force two weeks into the school year. Staring at him in class became my full time job, as did failing all my quizzes on Castro and his revolution but that’s another story altogether. One day while singing the national anthem our eyes locked. He looked away rather quickly and kept on singing, but not before smiling that dimpled smile of his. I took this as my cue to proceed to the next step of my conquering plan. That day during recess I spied from afar as he took out a container with rice, beans, and two boiled eggs. The next day I noticed his lunch was exactly the same. I triumphantly grabbed my pork sandwich and sauntered over his way before I could chicken out.

“Hola,” I said. “Do you want to trade lunches with me?” I had intended to sound nonchalant but my question came out fast and high-pitched, making me sound positively psychotic.

He looked up and said nothing.

“Boiled eggs are my favorite,” I continued, waving my sandwich in his face and hoping for the best as my confidence quickly waned.

“Boiled eggs are disgusting,” he sighed, accepting my trade after a moment’s hesitation. “Gracias.”

I took the seat next to him and we ate in silence. It was clear his mother wasn’t a fan of salt and pepper nor any other seasoning, but what else could be expected from a Cuban who didn’t name her son Carlos. When Johnny finished eating his sandwich he turned to me and asked for my name. “Annah,” I smiled and tugged on my short lesbian hair.

“Anita,” he said. “I’m Yohnee.”

After that encounter we became inseparable, meals during recess becoming my beacon of hope. Some forces in life one cannot contend with, and no mightier force exists than a woman on a mission. Every day I traded lunches with him in hopes of getting closer, my father’s culinary delights unworthy opponents to his mom’s bland offerings. I slowly found myself making headway in the demolition of his shy barrier, each afternoon becoming sweeter in my quest for his affection.

I was almost there. Almost. Until the devil in a skirt arrived.

In retrospect one would understand, yet in my innocent youth I couldn’t grasp why he suddenly lost interest in me and became enamored with that blonde midget who joined us in the middle of the year. From the moment Dumb Dumb arrived what never began was over. My efforts to gain his attention once more were futile and it gradually became evident no sandwich in the world could save me. My once chubby frame became increasingly thinner over the course of a few weeks, my thighs no longer rubbing together under my uniform skirt.

20 comments:

not exactly "Saint" Michael said...

Awww.... I like it. And I want to know more... I spose I can call that a win of a chapter.

Annah said...

A win of a 1/2 a chapter? :) Merci beau coup!

Vapid Vixen said...

I can totally picture the whole 6 year drama going down. So cute. Want more!!

Jeff Evans said...

Yes--worth the wait, Gorgeous! Can't wait for the next installment. I love the tone you're setting--sort of draws a reader in and makes it resonate. Lovely work!

Anonymous said...

And after that is when you decided you would become the biggest whore the world had ever known.

Anonymous said...

I love it. Your a great writer. Can't wait for the rest.

Migz said...

And all you wanted was for him to call you his bellesa

Anonymous said...

How original you troll... as also, ... ahem, correction, your mother is the biggest whore the world has ever known and your spouse is the runner up.

sara said...

I love it! I can't wait to read more!

Yvonne said...

Absolutely loved it! Can't wait for the next installment!

daffodilsparkle said...

Oh young love...

Zombie said...

Dat curly hair!

Crystal said...

I love it already! :)

Odie Langley said...

You have a winner there Annah and I surely would want a copy of that book. You have me hooked already. Have an awesome weekend.

Tracey - Just Another Mommy Blog said...

I am interested! Bring it on. Post some more.

T. Roger Thomas said...

Go on...

The Artist Formerly Known As Bagel Fairy said...

I can totally relate to the "never thought boys had cooties" thing. I was always fascinated with boys. There were none in my family, so their lives seemed impossibly exotic to me.

Rommel said...

that was pretty good i must say. and all my alter egos concur lol. i like yohnee, i think i will name my next dog that.

Allison Brown said...

Oh annah...so sadly adorable already! Please oh please post more...I hunger for it!!! (hope that didn't sound TOO creepy...)

Katerina said...

Aaawww… At least you had the cahoonas to make a play for it.

I naively pined over every crush I developed till the age of 15, secretly hoping that somehow ESP connections would magically draw the love of my life to me… except instead I would suffer in silence as each and every one of them fell for the beach blonde beauties that over ran my school.
(I was fortunate enough to be the Big Fat Greek girl in a sea of Gidgets).

How tragically lonely... 'Le sigh'