Filed under WOD

2 responses to “Line

  1. stewartparker

    When I was 15 my family went to Georgia to stay with some friends for the summer. One of the girls, Aramie, was my age, and we were good friends. Had been pen pals for years (real pen pals, like stamps and envelopes. Actual pens and paper. Complete sentences. Multiple paragraphs. Multiple pages, even. None of this LOL, BRB, OMG, J/K, TTYL stuff. Nothing better than a real letter from a dear friend. Right Aramie?)

    And she would always write me and tell me about her friends and what they were doing: going to the beach, water-skiing, swimming, going to the movies, hanging out. A tight-knit group of 7 or 8 fifteen-year-old girls, and I was going to be there all summer; I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

    Well one of the first nights there we were going to meet her group of friends at the mall. A couple of them I had met around the neighborhood already, but one girl, Erin, I had not yet met.

    As soon as I saw her I was very taken with her. She had beautiful, dark, curly hair and bright, really mesmerizing eyes. Light and captivating. But I particularly remember her cheeks for some reason. They looked soft around the edges, like an old movie, not quite pale, but seeming to almost glow in a kind of luminous, “Gone With the Wind” kind of way. I don’t know how else to describe them (actually, in my memory, I remember her seeming like Sherilyn Fenn, as Curley’s wife in “Of Mice and Men,” but I’m not sure if that would seem flattering to anyone now, if anyone would even get the reference, or if that movie was even around at the time. But, for what it’s worth, I mean it in the fondest way. Funny how the mind works like that).

    As we approached, I heard her talking, and she had the sweetest little Southern drawl you had ever heard. Like melted honey. My knees feel a little quivery now just thinking about it.

    “I bet you’re Erin,” I said.
    “Why do you say that?” her eyes dancing (did I see her blush, just a little? maybe that’s why I remember those cheeks) and words like butter on a biscuit.
    “Because Aramie told me her prettiest friend was named Erin. I knew that had to be you.”

    And the rest, as they say, is history (if by “history” they mean letting two of her other friends fight over me all summer, all the while harboring my secret crush for that gorgeous Southern belle).

    That was the best line I have ever used. To this day, it is one of the best I have ever heard.

    But I’ve never had another chance to try it.

  2. bedlam1313

    I wish everything had a point. A specific, exacting point. A declaration or an extremity or a patented truth. A black dot. Unless you have a blue or red pen; it’s just that black seems a little more definitive and sure of itself. Instead, I see a series of points. Some connected by lines, or arcs, or by other mathematical nuances too obscure to mention or research in an unfamiliar internet web site. I am not against a series of points; I just wish they were collated instead. All these connections get a bit overwhelming. And then I find myself hating people.

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