You are one who likes weddings and wants his own. I am the bridesmaid standing outside the reception. In the movies, I would be smoking. I have no excuse. You think I am sad because I want my own three-tiered cake and honeymoon. I am intriguing in my unflattering dress. You mistake my melancholy for beauty.
You shouldn't feel bad when it happens. It does and it will, so really, don't feel bad. When you said hi, I pictured the end. You will change your mind more quickly than you will understand. When you realize that the fact that you've never met anyone like me is not such a good thing. When it becomes clear that I'll use my intelligence and wit to push you. I'll give you my number. Just know you won't keep it for long.
You marvel aloud at your luck in meeting me. I like you and want to warn you, but it's really your own fault. Don't envision a history with me. Just take me home tonight and don't call tomorrow. I will cry and think “always” and “never” and it will feel right to me.
You will disappoint me. Perhaps you must. I don't know otherwise and will be confused at the absence of disappointment. You are just another and I am only me. I give you full permission to be everything I don't want you to be. In fact, I insist. And you don't need my permission. It will only impel you to do the opposite and the opposite would be distressing to us both.
You smile at me now. You bring me champagne. You use words like compelling and captivating, They are precursors to difficult and irrational. The words are the same. If you look at me that way now, you will dislike me more. I am not complex. I am simply incapable.
You should talk to another bridesmaid. She will be simple and want this wedding. She will not captivate. She will not cry or rage. She will allow you to not disappoint her. And you won't.
You will go to Hawaii on your honeymoon. You will snorkel and attend a luau. She'll talk of how you met. You might think of me for a moment and wonder what it would be like if you had refused to listen to me. You might attach a different ending to this conversation for that moment. Even as I talk you out of me, I am doing the same.
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I don't really know where this came from but am happy it ended up in Issue 33 of Storyglossia.
Oh, man, Lauren, this is romantic cybical and funny, a wham blam winner. I'm raving here...
...cybical? I wrote that? CYNical.
thanks jim. i'll admit, i was going to look up "cybical." thought it was one of those $5 creative writing terms ...
thank you for this. i like how situation flips from sentence-to-sentence, as with: "you use words like compelling and captivating, they are precursors to difficult and irrational." i want to steal this.
thanks alan! you don't have to steal -- take it and do the boy version ...
I keep coming back to this one. A brilliant use of second person plural to reveal the innermost thoughts of your narrator. Such a calm, quiet voice, catching the other even as she tries push them away.
Congratulations, Lauren, I really enjoyed this. There's too many great lines to list, but you really pulled me in with: "You mistake my melancholy for beauty." This is one of those wonderful pieces of writing that makes you wonder about the "what if's ..." for these characters, and beyond. Thanks for the read.
thanks frank -- one of my favorite compliments (to give and receive) is that the piece asks for additional reads.
please consider me a mutual admirer -- love the story you have up now!
thanks ethel! you are such a kind reader and commenter. i am really enjoying reading your stuff, as well -- so happy your chocolate story is up at storyglossia!
Lauren, you are cornering the market on cool stories with "you" (that is not the reader).
One of the coolest lines I've read in a long time is this: "I give you full permission to be everything I don't want you to be." This is a gut-wrenching and amazingly written piece. I've read a lot of yours and this is my favorite by far.
Oh, and I do have to quote this other beauty:
"I am not complex. I am simply incapable."
DAMN!
Man. This is pitch perfect.
"I am intriguing in my unflattering dress. You mistake my melancholy for beauty."
I love the matter-of-factness, the complex unpacking of a "simple" explanation. I love the words as precursors, words that are the same.
"Even as I talk you out of me..."
Ahhh, so good.
thanks david -- i appreciate the support and enthusiasm!
Thanks Christina! "Complex unpacking" -- I like that ... Looking forward to reading some of yours!
a dense defense of neuroses; everyone does this kind of personal short-selling and that makes this story painfully emphatic.
the character's saving grace is her capacity for understanding: "You will disappoint me. Perhaps you must." this disappointment is seen as a result of both their faults. it would do most couples good to read this piece and understand that their fear is simply a sign of their low self-esteem.
I'm going to be saying to anyone who asks me for anything today, "You should talk to another bridesmaid." Am i the only one who thinks this story is kinda funny? (in a very ouchy way)
Hi Lauren, the site was having problems the day I read this so I wasn't able to comment, but whooosh I love it, esp. the last graph.
"You will disappoint me. Perhaps you must. I don't know otherwise and will be confused at the absence of disappointment. You are just another and I am only me."
great stuff.
thanks samuel -- i like hearing your thoughts on the psychology of relationships -- very cool.
thanks laura!! i truly hope a lot of people ask you for things today -- let me know how that works out!
i hadn't thought of this as funny (maybe the luau part) but you and Jim made me view it differently ... funny in an ouchy way. i like ouchy -- that will be my word for the day.
thanks kathy and barry! both of you write flash that inspires and amazes me, so thanks for that, too ...
I can see this in the Wigleaf 50 next year.
>Am i the only one who thinks this story is kinda funny? (in a very ouchy way)
Nope. I see it, too, Laura. Ouchy. It's a very barbed funny. If you'll forgive a Hail Mary parallel, the "humor" in this reminds me of Martin Amis's novel Time's Arrow, in which dialog, narrative, and explanation are all in reverse. It's devastating. The narrator is some sort of consciousness inside the main character, but it has no control over anything the MC does, and no access to the MC's thoughts. The technique is at its most ouchy funny when the narrator experiences the MC's relationships in reverse. It goes a little like (and I apologize for paraphrasing grossly; it's been way too long since I read it):
I arrive at my apartment, rapidly sober again and in explicable huff, to find a forlorn, beautiful woman awaiting me. She looks helpless and sad. I wish I knew her name. Here we go again. As usual, I get the ball rolling with, "Fuck you! I wish we'd never met."
The reason why your story reminds me of Amis's technique there is the way you throw time back and forth, allowing the coexistence of retrospect, speculation, and first impression in sentences like these: "You shouldn't feel bad when it happens...When you said hi, I pictured the end." Just like that, it's over before it has even begun. The weight given here to a predetermined fate is, to me, exactly the same as that given in Amis's scenes. Same with "You will disappoint me. Perhaps you must." I love, too, the "precursors" line, for the wisdom it reflects--entirely without bitterness--from repeated experience. The result is a kind of desperate, bemused, futile--and, yes, funny--yearning at things that can only be as they are.
wow, thanks david -- there's a whole year ahead and it's anyone's game!
christina -- thank you so much for the insights and kind words. i haven't read "time's arrow" but won't complain about my story being reminiscent...
you've actually made me see things here that i hadn't seen or necessarily intended, but that i like a lot in your interpretation! you are a very generous and considerate reader. thanks again.
this reads like a transcription of the speech my last girlfriend gave me when i asked her out on our first date. it's a little spooky to read it like this, actually. she didn't say the last line, though. i don't know if she thought it or not. enough about me, though... this is very well done. my favorite of the ones you've posted. as david pointed out, "I am not complex. I am simply incapable" is really, really great. plus second person always really gets me.
ben -- this IS a transcription. i overheard your conversation and thought it did not bode well ...
thanks for the niceness!
"You are just another and I am only me."
gawd! your language slays me. very nice.
thanks ryan! i'm so glad it slayed you (metaphorically. i hope you were not hurt in the slightest in the reading of this story.)
this is perhaps too vivid for my own good. so many great lines. ouchy, in spades. v nice.
thanks joe. "too vivid" -- hmmm. intrigued as to what that means. i'm glad you liked it. i am liking your stuff a lot!
Ouch, this hurts and is so beautiful...one of my favorites, and one that will no doubt change the way I experience random encounters with captivating people. Truly beautiful work...outstanding.
thank you so much, brett. you are very kind to read my stuff. i appreciate the fave and your very, very nice words.
This is the little white comment box into which I'd generally type some reference or another to my favorite line in the piece...
But I can't pick.
You win.
tracy: thank you so much. it's a good thing (to me) that you can't pick.
no winners or losers here. i'm just really happy that you like the story.
"you mistake my melancholy for beauty" is perfect