Tag Archives: love

1918. Some things count

Bart was in love. He’d spend the time between interminably long phone calls mooching around and texting, as those in love sometimes do. He would wait, and then… The phone was never answered before with such speed lightning.

Donna was her name. They were both studying Mathematics at university. They shared the same mathematical problems on the phone. They shared the same solutions. Mathematics was never so superficial.

It was like life; they invented problems so they could solve them together. Things went swimmingly until Donna suggested:

f(x)=a_0+∑_(n=1)^∞▒(a_n cos⁡〖nπx/L〗+b_n sin⁡〖nπx/L〗 )

In response, last Thursday, Bart came up with:

cos⁡α+cos⁡β=2 cos⁡〖1/2 (α+β)〗 cos⁡〖1/2 (α-β)〗

Quite frankly Donna had had enough. She was fed up to the eyeballs. She called the whole thing off.

1732. A not uncommon phenomenon

It was St Valentine’s Day and Molly was excited. Last year her boyfriend had given her even more than a bunch of roses. She knew that the next year (which is this year) it would be a ring.

Molly rose early. Her heart soared. She dressed in casual, comfortable clothes. No good dressing up to the nines and letting the cat out of the bag. Before she had finished breakfast she had changed her attire twice. What she wore would be captured forever on her phone. Her phone was charged. She would show the photograph to her grandchildren years down the line and say, “This is your grandmother getting proposed to by your late grandfather.”

Late grandfather! Oh! How sad that day would be! for almost inevitably he would pass on first. And she, by then not Ms Molly Liggins like today but Mrs Alexander Snooks, would be left alone in her world of widow’s weeds.

And children! She had already named all three! There would be Nicholas, and Eadlin, and Lillian. Not to mention their house mortgage free and with a lovely view. And the car! “Limousine” would be a better word. She would have her driver’s license by then. It would be the first thing her fiancé would do: give her driving lessons, in between smooching and kissing in the back seat. Oh! The future! Who doesn’t dare to dream doesn’t win.

There was a knock on the door. It was the florist delivery personage. Was this the prelude? “Mother!” called Molly from upstairs, “could you get that. I’m getting changed?”

And when Molly swept down the stairs she was greeted by a bouquet of yellow carnations wrapped in black paper and a note that said “Sorry”.

Repeat of Story 134: Veljka alights

(Today we begin a week or so of repeats. These stories are not necessarily the best, or the most popular, or the ones I like. I’ve chosen them fairly much at random so I can have the week off! This story, “Veljka alights”, first appeared on this blog on 21 February 2014. Some of you faithful followers who read and commented on this story back then are now old and haggard. Enjoy!)

Veljka began to notice Ramon at school. She was becoming quite infatuated by him; his good looks, his intelligence, his laugh, his sportsmanship, his studiousness, his jovial conversations. He was beautiful. But he hardly noticed her. She noticed him, saw him, heard him, all the time. She would sit in the back corner of the classroom paying little attention to the lessons. Her eyes were on Ramon.

How natural and lovely he was when he chatted away – to everyone but Veljka it seemed. She wasn’t part of his group. For the annual school dance, he asked Cassandra to be his date. Cassandra was a nice person. Veljka wasn’t the jealous sort. But it made her sad.

One day, Veljka was on the bus and Ramon got on. The bus was full, except for one seat next to Veljka. Ramon sat next to her. Their knees accidentally touched. Veljka’s heart raced. She thought she would burst. She thought she would die. She thought she would faint. She thought she would stop breathing. Ahhhh! He didn’t take his knee away.

“How’s it going?” said Ramon.

“Ah, ah, oh,” said Veljka.

“Tell me,” said Ramon, “is your hair naturally that shade? I notice it all the time at school.”

All the time! All the time! “Yes,” said Veljka. “It’s natural. But I was thinking of dyeing it.”

“Don’t dye it,” said Ramon. “It’s beautiful. I notice you all the time.”

Notice me! Notice me!

Ramon left the bus. “Catch you later,” he said.

“See you,” said Veljka. She got off the bus at the next stop. She had overrun her home stop by seventeen minutes. She danced the eight miles home.

1693. Huberta and Hubert

As if having the name of Huberta wasn’t bad enough… She’d gone and fallen in love with a man whose name was Hubert. “Huberta and Hubert” sounded doubly bad. “You are cordially invited to the wedding of Huberta and Hubert”. And so on.

Huberta practiced writing out the combination in all sorts of situations. Mind you, she simply scribbled it in the back of a notebook. “Huberta and Hubert announce the birth of their first child”; “Huberta and Hubert are booked on a Mediterranean cruise”; “Huberta and Hubert celebrate their golden wedding anniversary.”

Huberta suddenly snapped out of her reverie when the bell rang. That was the end of Mathematics class.

Oh if only Hubert would notice her and ask her out!

1553. They shared a milkshake

(The closing sentence for this story was suggested by Maddie of Maddie’s Musings. If you want to join in the fun of suggesting a future closing sentence for these stories, click here for a peek as to what’s what.)

Marmaduke (one wonders what gets into parents’ heads when they name a son “Marmaduke”, but to each their own) was in a tizzy. Not only was it a stupid name, but “he” was a “she”. The stupid parents had given her a boy’s name because “they liked it” and “wanted a boy”.

Even though she was known as “Mamie”, the name Marmaduke appeared on official documents. The first time she went for a job interview, when she walked into the room everyone said the same thing: We were expected a man.

Now at the age of twenty-two Marmaduke decided to take things into her own hands; she would officially change her name. And that is how she became Jennifer Joy.

Jennifer Joy had barely emerged from the name-changing office when she saw on the street the handsomest man she had ever seen in her entire life. It was one of those lightning strikes that happens mainly in novels. Of course, this is not a novel. His name was Mac. As just-met strangers Jenny and Mac went off together to Burger King for a bite to eat. They got on so well. They even shared a milkshake. Before long they were dating. (I’m telling you this because frequently stories have a sad or surprise ending but there’s nothing wrong with being positive and normal occasionally).

Jenny and Mac were engaged in no time. At the wedding rehearsal Jenny got the surprise of her life. The marriage officiant referred to Mac as “Marmaduke”. It was the name on the official documentation.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” wailed Jennifer Joy. “How can I marry a Marmaduke?”

“I was too embarrassed to tell you, darling. But… Trust me” he whispered, “I have a plan.”

1549. Down on one knee

(The closing sentence for this story was suggested by Terry of ARANEUS1. If you want to join in the fun of suggesting a future closing sentence for these stories, click here for a peek as to what’s what.)

I’d put it off for long enough. Leonie-Lee was my life and light. We had been dating now for three years. It was time to propose marriage, but to be honest, what if she said “No”? The possibility of a “No” – no matter how improbable it was in reality – had always come in the way of proposing. I wish she’d taken advantage of that quirky thing (I believe it’s the case) and proposed to me herself last Leap Day.

I caught the number 12 tram. It stops almost outside my house. There’s no need to walk far except down the garden path. In fact, when it rains, I simply wait in my porch and when the number 12 tram approaches I dash out and board the tram raincoat-less and umbrella-less. Crossing the road can be a bother, but there’s a place for pedestrians to cross, although these days who can trust the road-raging drivers? Of course, I carry my coat and umbrella, because when I reach the tram stop where I alight I still have to walk a good half hour to arrive at Leonie-Lee’s house.

I had the engagement ring and everything. In fact I’ve been so excited about this decision that I haven’t slept for two days. Not the briefest forty winks.

When I got off the number 12 tram the sun was shining. The day couldn’t have been more pleasant if I’d planned it myself. I practically skipped my way to Leonie-Lee’s. This was to be the happiest day of my life thus far.

Anyway… that was a couple of hours ago. Leonie-Lee said… well… it doesn’t matter. Same as last time. Afterwards, I headed straight for home. As I stepped off the number 12 tram, dodging impatient traffic, it started to rain.

1420. The proposal

Not every match is made in heaven, but this one was. Annabelle and Xavier had met at a table tennis competition in town. It had been organised by the Trinity Anglican Parish. It was when Annabelle had beaten (just the once) Xavier at ping pong that Xavier thought Annabelle worth looking at twice.

“How would you like to go out next Saturday?” asked Xavier. That was the beginning. The sun came out from the clouds and never left.

Today Annabelle was off to see Xavier. He had something to tell her; something very important; something very special. Annabelle knew it would be a marriage proposal. She would pretend to be surprised, but really… really… how could she not guess? She wasn’t born yesterday.

Annabelle took the shortcut to Xavier’s place: over a stile, through a cornfield, over another stile… The colours that day were ten times more vibrant. A flock of goldfinches were stealing corn. “You little thieves!” laughed Annabelle. She heard a skylark sing, way up in the sky. “It’s the wedding march!” laughed Annabelle.

And there he was! Xavier at the second stile! Down on one knee!

“Annabelle,” said Xavier, “will you marry me?”

“Oh yes!” said Annabelle. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and a second skylark joined the singing in the sky. The moon rose in the middle of the day. A briar rose near the stile burst into flower. A rooster crowed. A cherry tree scattered ripe and succulent fruit.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

(Post script: If you don’t like happy endings you should know by now not to read this blog.)

1413. Fifth marriage

Joffre’s fifth marriage was no straight forward affair. The thirteen children from his previous four marriages were still living with their respective mothers. He wanted his children there, but who would bring them and look after them at the wedding? The last thing he wanted was his four ex-wives blotting the landscape and making facetious comments about his blushing bride twenty-three years his junior.

Joffre conceived a plan. He would invite all four ex-wives. Three of them so detested him that they would not attend. The fourth, Mabel, would come – she had always been non-confrontational – and she could look after the thirteen children.

And there she was! In the front seat with the thirteen children! She looked wonderful in her peacock-hued dress with cap sleeve bodice and floral organza skirt. And she wore tinted contact lenses to match. So capable! So calm! So ravishingly perfect in every way! Such taste in fashion! And Joffre knew she would have made the outfit herself. He should never have left her. A reunification was surely a possibility.

Let’s hope the rumours were true, and that his bride was having an affair with one of the bridesmaids.

Poem 86. A dire warning to lovers

Falling in love is sort of like
being diagnosed with sugar diabetes.
It’s kind of like a sugar overload
and the body can’t cope with all the syrup fast enough
so it results in a sticky mess
and you end up
chucking the baby out with the bathwater.

Falling in love is sort of like
weeding the garden;
there’s a great vision of magnificent blooms
further down the track
but there’s the inevitability of pulling flowers out
with the weeds
and chucking the baby out with the bathwater.

Falling in love is sort of like
you know
it gets more complicated than you think
and it completely stuffs up your life
because you should be finishing an assignment and
instead you end up spending all night trying to make
something to chuck out with the bathwater.

Anyway, despite my warning,
by the time you realize you’re in love
it’s too late. You’re completely caught in the net.
Every song on the radio is about you. The only way out
is not to get up in the morning
or to move towns and that’s tantamount to
chucking the baby out with the bathwater.

Be warned! Love’s sort of like a horse and carriage:
every wedding’s followed by a marriage.
It’s not that you can’t do it;
it’s just that so many for a thousand different reasons blew it.

1233. Distance romance

Paul had a number of relationships that didn’t go anywhere. There was Aimee. She was pleasant enough, but was into her horse which wasn’t an animal that Paul could get enthusiastic about. There was Bethany. She was enthusiastic about her family tree, and in the end Paul knew that if he heard any more about her third cousin twice removed he’d go bonkers.

Someone suggested that Paul try a dating service online. They use computers to find suitable pairs. You simply register your details and next thing you’ll be chatting with someone who fits whatever. So Paul did that, and that is how he met Dawn.

Dawn was the one! They clicked together and all the days of the week melded into one. Every night they’d be chatting away online about this and that, and that and this, and everything in between. It was without doubt a match planned since the inception of the universe.

Dawn had a baby, about seven months old, and Paul said such things didn’t matter. He would treat the child as his own. Everything was going to be wonderful. They had never met in the real but it was on the cards. They hadn’t even swapped phone numbers. Who needs to when you chat online?

And then Paul’s computer broke down and he lost all internet connections. So that was the end of that.