The following is an excerpt from the book I am writing called, “Skittles for Breakfast.”
December has always been my favorite month. I even want to grace my first adopted daughter with the name DECEMBER and call her DESEE for short. Sounds ridiculous, but it’s not as bad as the name for my future second daughter, KACI, a name inspired by Kelly Clarkson’s first and last initials.
This final month of the year is my favorite for quite a few reasons.
- My birthday is the twelfth
- Christmas, obvi
- It’s cold, which means I get to wear layers, which means I get to wear fabulous scarves and form fitting cardigans with tight dark jeans that showcase my perfect ass and black boots that showcase my perfect taste in shoes.
- Oh, and winter is the perfect time for romance.
Ah, a winter romance. Passionate love that sets in with the frost on your car windows and dissipates as soon as the flowers are back in bloom. A love short lived in the sweet peppermint air that leaves you breathless and wishing for it to never leave. That’s the type of romance I still dream about, and it’s all because of Mr. Landon Walker.
“The first time I saw you, it was love at first sight.” Landon held my hands together as we sat inside my F-150 in the parking lot of the ice cream shop I worked at, warming ourselves with the heater and with each other’s lips, listening to Mariah Carey’s Christmas CD.
“Baby, you’re amazing I love you!” I said with a cracking voice that foreshadowed the possibility of my eyes watering in flattery. Landon always knew just the right thing to say. He was so in touch with his emotional side that he literally cried the first time we went out. And the first time he said, “I love you”. And the first time he officially asked me to be his boyfriend. And the first time I met his family. And one night over the phone as he sang Good Enough by Evanescence to me. And on our first dinner date. And on Christmas. Okay, so, he cried a lot. That was the only problem. Every sweet teardrop of bliss and every romantic verbal cue of affection was forced on my end, only because I thought that if I wasn’t crying with him, it would hurt his feelings. Was it really possible for Landon to be in love with me after only three weeks of knowing each other? I pondered this as I shoved my tongue down his throat.
The night he first saw me, I didn’t even notice him. Cupid shot the arrow right through Landon’s heart as I was working a closing shift at Sweetie’s Ice Cream Shop, and he just so happened to be there with his family. I served all four of their ice creams with my signature spunky attitude and let’s just say he didn’t exactly stand out. But Landon, stricken with Cupid’s arrow of Winter Romance, immediately got a hold of his friend, who got a hold of my coworker, who got a hold of me in a matter of minutes after leaving Sweetie’s with his family. Next thing you know, I’m being stalked by the guy at school the next day. Apparently all of his classes were right across the hall from mine, a convenience I thought was too good to be true and naturally assumed he changed his entire class schedule just to be near me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think Landon was cute, he just happened to be more of an acquired taste. A taste that I had never thought of trying, no matter how adventurous I tend to be. That taste was Hipster. Landon was a straight up hipster, a hipster before it was even cool. Always found wearing an outfit he most likely bought at Urban and wearing shoes that I’m sure benefited a charity somewhere (like in Africa), my teenage dream expectations for my first boyfriend to be a hot shot baseball player (who liked to get dirty in the dugout) wear Under Armor shirts, and had “guy nights” with his buddies (no homo) while I went out for spa treatments with my girls (that NEVER happens) were pushed aside.
It took a lot of persistence on his part to finally get me to date him. Two weeks of Landon coming into Sweetie’s on my closing shifts, texting me every night, and following me around at school like a lost child in a Costco finally paid off and Landon won me over. (Although I’m sure he thought that he already did since I made out with him after every shift and every morning before class for those two weeks). There was something about the way he tried so hard to have me that made me want to be with him. The more and more Landon tried, he became cuter, showed more personality, and just really darn lovable. Landon’s charisma was like alcohol, the more he used it on me, the better he seemed.
But for some reason I felt like a stuffed animal at the state fair who wanted to be won by someone–anyone–just to get off the dusty old shelf, but then disappointed when the winner’s shelf turned out to be just as dusty.
Classic Robert. Always searching for something, and ending up back at the start.