The Love Of My Life

Submitted by Christin on Sun, 10/22/2017 - 17:34

Hello, My name is Leopold. Last year I met the love of my life. Well, “met” is an exaggeration. Last year I saw the love of my life. What a beautiful specimen she was. She had blue sparkling eyes, full red lips and short, silky blonde hair that shimmered in the sun. The fact that I knew at once that she was to be mine did not subtract from the amount of time I stood staring. Actually, staring sounds bad. Instead, lets call it gazing. I stood outside gazing at her, as time itself slowed down. The icy chill of the air did not make it through as I stood and watched her. I was going to be with that girl.

I rushed off to get things together for our first date. My parents always seemed to avoid the topic of love, but I knew everything I needed to know from watching Disney movies. That got me excited; I KNOW love at first sight, and my girl and I had it. All I had to do was introduce myself, sweeping her off her feet with my outstanding physical appearance and our marriage would be secured, just like in the movies. I stopped and pondered whether I should start with the first date of the proposal. The proposal seemed more suiting for a “love at first sight” scenario, but I figured I had better learn the girls name before moving on to avoid seeming desperate.

I tore through my closet, but found nothing suitable for my date. I dug and dug until in the very back I found a neon green suit with moth-holes that I had worn for my role as “The Wizard of Oz” when I was thirteen, five years prior. I slid it on, and it made me feel just as majestic as it did the first time I tried it on. I found that the pant legs reached just below my knees, and the sleeves to my elbows, but I did not care, I looked amazing. My girl would be so impressed.

The orange shoes of the outfit did not fit in the least, and ripped when I tried to put them on. I had to find different ones. I thought about calling my mom to ask for her fashion guidance, but decided that now that I was 18, I had to be independent. I ran to the clothing store and headed right for the shoes section.

I had a hard time trying on shoes with the suit on, as it was exceedingly tight around my waist. I realized that I must have gotten fat. My girl would never go out with me if I was fat, and I had to get married soon, before I got to old! I learned from Disney movies that they always get married at eighteen, or in some cases younger! Princess Aurora wed at sixteen, I was already two years late! I had to find an immediate way to get thinner, before I was too old to get married. I got an amazing idea and sprinted out of the store, still in the blue shoes I was trying on.

I ran through the streets, searching desperately for a store that may solve my problem. I went store to store, struggling to find one that sold a pill or something that would end my obesity. I was perseverant in the face of doubt, and kept trying for three straight days. My girl sure would be impressed!
My search ended in the antique shop. I had stumbled into a corset that claimed it could make you thinner. I should not say, “Stumbled into”, I should say, “stumbled over”, because that was what I did. I tripped over it and crashed into the section of antique lamps. I was happy that none of them hurt me, but the lamps themselves were definitely hurt. I did not want to buy any of the broken lamps, but the shopkeeper wanted me to pay for them anyway. I ended up leaving the store, never allowed to come back, and with a $5 corset and a bill for $8,568.

I had no idea how to get the corset on, wear it, or how it worked, and the strangers I inquired seemed confused and disturbed for some reason. I went home and tried to put it on. It was really confusing and had a bunch of strings, so I looked up a tutorial online. No matter how hard I looked, I only found videos on how to put it on women! I was quite offended. I decided to wing it and fiddled with the laces until my body weaved in and out through them. That made my chest lumpy, and left a big lump on my back.

The phone that could be used to call my mom and solve all my problems called out to me, but my girl would not be impressed if I had to call my mommy to help me with a simple corset. I had to practice being mature if I wanted to be married.
I tried wearing it different directions until I found the correct one. Apparently the laces were not for weaving, and were actually to be in the front. I tied it loosely so that I could breathe and move freely, then I returned to my suit. All it seemed to achieve was to add a lump in the middle of my chest, and it did not seem to make me any skinnier, but it must have been attractive. If it were not attractive, the old people who invented it way back in their day would not have bothered making it. My girl sure would be impressed!

I looked at the ensemble together in the mirror, and I looked great. The blue of the shoes complemented the green of the suit perfectly. My girl had better like colorful things. I have heard that girls like pink and purple, so once I threw my new purple tie into the mix; I knew she would love it. I looked at myself in the mirror as I twisted this way and that, admiring every detail of my clothes. Suddenly it hit me. What if she did not like me back? After one look at my beautiful face, I was reassured of my bride’s opinion.
Everything was falling into place. I pondered whether today would be the day to ask her out of if I should wait for the following day. I wanted to ask her out as soon as possible, which would be this day, but I felt like there was something missing. In my head I ran through what I was going to say. I could feel that I was missing something, but I could not put my finger on it.

I would need to get her flowers, but I could easily pick those up on the way to her work. She worked at the clothing store “Poppyseed”. I have never had the need to go in “Poppyseed” myself, as it is a woman’s clothing store, but much of my time had been spent there, gazing at my woman through the window. I ran through what I would say one last time, as I grabbed the matching hat to my tuxedo and placed my hand on the doorknob. That is when it hit me. What were we going to do? My woman was not going to want to sit and simply stare at me all night, (although I do that quite often) I needed to plan an activity! I instantly knew where to take her. I would take her to my favorite restaurant in the world, In-N-Out. It is the most amazing restaurant, and I was sure she would love it. Just wait until she saw how many burgers I can eat in a minute! She would be so impressed. I left in my suit to go and pick up my girl. I walked down the street, toward the flower shop.

I was only a few steps from the door of the flower shop when a policeman plowed into me from behind. He grabbed my hands and handcuffed them behind my back, and the next thing I knew I was riding in a police car. The policeman sat in the front giving me dirty looks through the rear view mirror. I was really confused.
“What did I do?” I said sheepishly.
The policeman glared.
“You know what you did.”
“No, I really don’t” I insisted.
“You stole $200 shoes!”
I probably sounded dumb when I squeaked out,
“I did?”
When had that happened? That is when I put it together. I lifted my foot to where I could see it, and looked at the shoes I had bought at the store. Well, actually, I had not bought them, I ran away from the store wearing them. I looked at the tag on the shoes and as expected it said $200. About an hour later I was locked in a cell. The police were going to call my parents, but I asked them not to. I wanted to be independent. Three months would not hurt me.

The next day I got to meet my prison-mates. There was one big guy named Dean. He said Dean was short for Death, and he certainly looked the part. The first time I saw him I was standing behind him in the food line. I had to crank my head all the way back in order to be able to see his head. Long story short, I did not go out of my way to meet him. I was perfectly happy to never become acquainted in the entirety of my sentence. When I saw him, I only shook a little bit, but I noticed that the guys who had gotten to know him shook more then me. So I, in comparison, was brave. My girl would be so proud of me.

Every one of my 90 days in the cell, I was sustained by the thought of my girl. Every minute of my time was spent dreaming of the life we would lead once we were married. Not to brag, but our imaginary life was very exciting. Regardless, those were the longest three months of my life.

When I was finally released, I ran straight to my girl. I was relieved to find that she was still working at the clothing store. I was so proud. I had been to jail for three months, and my “Mommy” never even knew. What could be manlier than that? My girl would be so proud.
That night my bed felt especially nice in comparison to my horrible prison cot. I slept great, and woke up feeling refreshed, and confident.

I was going to ask my girl out, and find out her name so I could stop referring to her as “my girl”. I got dressed into my corset and suit again, and I combed my hair. I spent two whole minutes on my hair. Two minutes! That is the longest I have ever spent on my hair, but I was confident my girl would appreciate it. I popped a breath mint into my mouth, just in case, and admired myself in the mirror. I looked awesome. My girl would be so impressed.

I puffed out the “attractive” lump of my corset as I walked confidently down the street. I stopped by the flower store and picked out a bouquet of roses. They were a little wilted, but they were two dollars cheaper, so, yah. My girl would be so impressed that I am a shrewd shopper.

I stopped outside the door to her shop. I gazed at her through the window. Finally. The time had come at last to sweep her off of her feet. I checked my breath, straightened my tie, and was ready to enter. I was ready. Time to go. I inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. It was time. I took a step toward the door. I took another step toward my dream woman. I took a third step toward the rest of my life, and then one last final step toward my destiny.

My woman was standing by the window of her shop, and now I was too. I stared into her shining eyes as they pierced my soul. I began to sweat. This is not going how I had planned. I took another deep breath, and began.
“Hi, my name is Leopold,” I said.
I extended my hand for her to shake, but she declined it. This was not going according to my plan at all. What happened to me sweeping her away?

I awkwardly tried to save my pride by changing my handshake invitation into an itch, but it failed. How was I failing so badly? I tried to act in control and less desperate for her approval than I actually was, so I said
“I have been thinkin’ recently, and I think I might be willing to go out with you.”
She did not respond, She just stood there silently. Was she judging me? Maybe she did not see the point in the corset either. I did not know what to do, so I went in for some playful physical contact. My plan was to nudge her shoulder and say,
“Stop bein’ so tense! Come on it’ll be fun!”
But as soon as I nudged her shoulder, she fell straight over, taking down a few of her employees with her. Next thing I knew, I was back in the policeman’s car, but this time for attacking a manniquen.

Author's age when written

Last year, my school had a "short story" semester project, that I was more then excited to complete. I asked my mom how long the story should be, and she said "About the size of a short chapter book." I didn't know exactly how long that was, but I assumed it would be about 50 pages. I rolled up my sleeves, and began over Christmas break. By the end of the break, I was 47 pages in, and very pleased with myself for being so ahead, seeing that it wasn't due for another 14 weeks. The only problem was, when my teacher made the announcement in class, she said "4-12 pages." 4-12!!! What kinda chapter book is 4 pages?! I did end up finishing that other book over the summer, and I discovered I had a lot more to say then the 3 pages that remained in my assumed 50-page limit. I had 205 pages more. Anyway, I had to start over, and I had many failed attempts. I had so many ideas and I kept changing my mind, so I actually ended up doing the assignment 8 times. I just couldn't find the right story for my class. I realized I had written a version of this story for an "under 1000 words" essay competition, and I remembered how fun it was, but I felt I had so much more to say then that word limit would allow. So, after all that, here it is. My finished semester project.


The end is AMAZING. So totally unexpected and hilarious! Your humor is extremely quick and witty; the pacing in this was great, and Leopold had such a distinct and wonderful personality. Fantastic!!