Some people find your personality distasteful. You’re loud. You’re raucous. You block out all others in a desperate attempt to be heard. All of these qualities however, are the ones that make me love you even more than I thought I could.
I remember our first time together. Your frame was bent like a hardened anorexic. Little puffs of black fuzz rested on either side of you, covering my ears from sharp undertones. Together we listened to The Supremes at full volume for an hour and a half. You Can’t Hurry Love made no sense.
Over the years you transformed. Your geriatric curves now bend from opposite directions. Plugs attach themselves to the ends of long skinny cords. Your body sways and the music bends, but you’re still just the same.
I recognize that I might not have the stark, conservative look that you’re going for this year. I am not a red globe ornament or a string of white lights. I am however, just as bright as the rest and arguably more festive than any other decoration you have chosen to display.
I started off hanging from a telephone wire in the Hispanic section of town. For several nights out of the year I would glow different colors to symbolize the comfort of home. People loved me. I brought cheer to the poorest of neighborhoods until one day someone said I was a fire hazard. Reluctantly I watched as my place on the block slowly unraveled. Rest assured, my personality would never spark a conversation about destruction. Although I am unique, loved by many, and talked about by all, I do not have a fiery disposition.
My resume includes functions such as: Mardi Gras. Halloween. New Years. And even a few nightclubs. I have experience with all types of people.
While your white and red tree looks quite tasteful in the dining room of our town’s beloved country club, I think it could use a variety of color. I hope you will consider what I have to offer useful.
We’ve been together a long time now, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to call it quits. When we first met, I was young, flexible, and could handle anything. Even your rigidity.
When we touched, you were like ice. Cold and sturdy, you never caved. At first I thought your solidity was key to our success, but then something happened. I became restless.
My weight was too much for you and I could feel it. When I begged for comfort, you refused. You held fast to your position, making it clear that you would not budge. You would not cradle my body in your non-existent arms. You would not soften my aches and pains.
Last week, I met someone new. Someone who was both sturdy and supportive. You were my first and I will always remember you, but sadly, you are not my last.
I hope this doesn’t come across in the wrong way. You are a beautiful dish in your own right and I admire your sturdiness. It is clear that you’re a very accommodating plate and will always hold as much as you can. However, I’ve been talking it over with the group and we’re not sure if you would make the right impression for our annual family dinner.
Your resume is quite impressive and it’s not that we don’t appreciate your thrift store past, it’s just that we find you might have a difficult time relating to the others. This place setting is reserved for someone with more experience in the fine dining atmosphere.
Your hard edge must have served a good purpose for you in previous jobs, but we feel that the chip on your side can not easily be mended. I understand your last dinner party overlooked this aspect, but unfortunately this is a more formal setting.
In addition to the manners in which our table uphold, you also seem unfit in the looks department. While you were once, I’m sure, a beautiful, bright blue, you appear to have faded throughout the years. The decorative design that tattoos your whole body is a bit much for our usual look and to be quite frank, your complexion is not what should necessarily be showcased for this particular event.
For this years dinner we would really prefer all of our table to be matching. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but we will not be needing your services at this time. If you are still looking for a place come June, perhaps a summer picnic outside would better fit your needs.
You weren’t so desperate when we first met. Your body was pregnant with the possibility of adventure. All I had to do was think and you came to life. So eager were you to expose the markings of my ink that I turned red. Now when I try, everything comes out stale. You ruined it. You made me your everything just so you could stare blankly into space while I tried. And I tried so hard.
When we first met it was like love at first sight. I still remember our late nights out on the town. Back when all we did was go out and dance and have fun everything seemed so innocent. But it couldn’t stay that way. I remember the first night you came over. We were on the porch together, gazing at the stars and pondering the thoughts of the universe. You were so cool – not trying to impress anyone, you let your faults be known. I was okay with it. It’s not like we were exclusive.
But then there was that one day after statistics class. I was frustrated, tired, annoyed with life and you were there. Waiting for me. I told you I couldn’t see you right now, I had to have time to cool off. I had to have my space for a minute. You persisted. You kept telling me you needed me and it was in that moment that I gave in.
It was like you were addicted to the weaknesses in my life. The moments where I felt anxious, upset, depressed or just lonely. You were always around when I needed you, you lived off those times.
You grew demanding. You wanted more money. You wanted more time. You wanted something that I could barely give, but did anyway. When I tried to leave you, you kept coming back. I would see you everywhere. In the neon lit convenient store down the block. In bars we used to go to. Even my porch seemed haunted by you.
I know we’re in an unhealthy relationship. I know I suck when I’m around you. But I just want to say, for all the times I said I hate you, I’ll never fully mean it. There’s always a part of me that lights up.
I miss you. I miss the way you made me feel. I miss how you could ask for anything and not feel ashamed. I miss that you were so interested in me.I miss feeling special. I miss the way you swore when you were upset, but would then laugh as if you didn’t really mean it. I miss you in the morning in your bathrobe when you looked your least made up. I miss all the routines you had and the way you knew which buttons to press to light up my life. I miss your good moods. I miss being everything to you. I miss how you made me feel better than everything else because sometimes I think you forgot who I am.
I hope this doesn’t come across in the wrong way, I just wish to tell you what we have been discussing. You are a beautiful dish in your own way and I admire the sturdiness that you hold within you. You’re a very accommodating plate and will always hold as much as you can. However, I’ve been talking it over with the group and we just don’t know if you would make the right impression for our annual family dinner.
Your resume is quite impressive and It’s not that we don’t appreciate where you’ve been and the many stories you can tell about being from a thrift store, it’s just that the story is hard to relate to. This place setting is reserved for someone with more experience in the fine dining atmosphere. Unfortunately it seems you have a chip on your side which all others have failed to get rid of. I understand your last dinner party overlooked this aspect, but unfortunately this is a more formal setting.
In addition to the manners in which our table upholds, you also seem unfit in the looks department. While you were once, I’m sure, a beautiful, bright blue, you appear to have gone pale. The decorative design that tattoos your whole body is a bit much for our usual look and to be quite frank, your complexion is not what should necessarily be showcased in this particular event.
For this years dinner we would really prefer all of the table to be matching. We’ve already allowed the table cloth a place at our dinner and so you see, we can’t allow for anything else not to be perfect. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but we will not be needing your services at this time. If you are still looking for a place come April, perhaps a spring picnic outside would better fit your needs.