Ode to the Autumn.

DangerMouse27

I came across this piece I wrote this morning whilst cleaning out the attic. Be gentle, it was my first attempt.


For all of the times that I have run this story through my head, the hardest part of it has been trying to tail an ending on it. Endings make sense, they just do. The boy gets the girl, he buys a saloon car, which is good on gas, thinks about whether he is a bagel person and they all live happily ever after.

I am a bagel person but alas, here I am, single at thirty-two. If I had of known life was going to be this complicated, I would have stuck with the sandwich.

It is about a girl. It always is.
I am usually fine with it until the autumn kicks in. It is the time of the year when you realise that there will be no more ogling pretty girls on the beach or catching a sideways glance from a brunette with a strapless top on in the park. From here on in, it is all buttoned up fleece coats and bobble hats until April. That girl with the white strapless top, she has the snuffles now and keeps her head down so the snot can run off into the floor without you witnessing it fall from her nose. That same nose with the dimples that you thought twitched when she smiled is red and aggressive now. It snarls at you now. “Grrrrrrr I hate bagels.” it says.

Kids are back to school and that means puppy love hand holders throughout the towns and cities. You wonder did strangers wish to mount the kerbs and chase you manically in their Ford Fiestas when it was your turn to be a kid in love. I always think, you have not known unrequited love if you can look on doting teenagers holding hands and not feel a modicum of self loathing. Blessed be the singleton.

Can I blame anyone? Probably not, but I shall, oh yes I shall. Card, movie, and teddy bear making companies. The three horse men of the singletons apocalypse.
If it were not for Tesco, I might have gone completely mad. Supermarkets are relationship graveyards where the prime mover, generally the female has control of the trolley and dictates a pace of shopping which drives the male insane. On the surface, all he wants to do is speed up and fling some bread and ham into the metal beast, and be done with it. However, deep down all he needs is that trolley and ten seconds so he can spin down the aisles, lift his feet up, and go Weeeeeeeeee.

I think my life is set out to be a Polar Bear in the big scheme of things. I am not a male emperor penguin who guards his young until the female returns, although I get why you would want that. I am not a Mountain Gorilla with a harem of females to choose from, the life of the playboy, my fantasy yet I think I would be unfulfilled. No, mine is the life of the Polar Bear. Prowl around all summer jumping from one ice flow to another until the autumn where I will gorge myself on bagels and bed down for the winter months, ready to emerge in the spring. It is a bear’s life.

Rubecula

I really enjoyed reading that DM27

DangerMouse27

Thank you for that Rubecula, what a very nice thing to say.

pickarooney

I loved the paragraph about the girls in winter. The rest, not so much.

Musiconomist

DangerMouse27 wrote: »

That same nose with the dimples that you thought twitched when she smiled is red and aggressive now. It snarls at you now. “Grrrrrrr I hate bagels.” it says.

Made me laugh, anyway. Nicetalgic.

Give us a bit more, ou' a' that!