Why this blonde haired beauty and I connected, I’ve no idea. I’m so glad we did though. Told her I’d write her a story to a photo prompt. Of course she looks like a model. Here you go my sweet Madeline. Hope you like it.
Photo courtesy of Madeline Walsh from 1EarthNow.
Whoever said being pretty had its advantages was full of shit, Leslie said to herself as she gazed into her closet. She searched for a purple skirt that she swore she picked up from the cleaners last Tuesday. Her best friend Raven set up this damn blind date for her. She wanted to cancel. All she wanted to do was change into her yoga pants and fleece pull over and curl up with a good book. She’d have a bottle of sweet red wine too. No need for a glass when you’re alone. Who gives a shit if you swig it from the bottle?
She shook her head and wondered how the hell she got here. She thought, I have so many pretty things. A good life, but no one to share it with.
Leslie thought back to the last eight months. Her heart had been handled precariously by a man she thought she loved. He would tell her one day that he loved her, then the next day, he’d be indifferent. She tried to change. To get Brian to pay attention. To give her more. He wouldn’t. It didn’t matter that she was pretty. Thin. Smart. Made her own money. That she lived an independent life. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t the one for him. Her heart broke when it ended. Now she wasn’t sure if she was ready to start this roller coaster of serial dating again.
She knelt down and found the skirt on her closet floor. Stood up and pulled it snug around her tiny waist. Peered into the full length mirror in her bedroom. After a couple of turns she decided she didn’t look half bad. Whiskers, her fat cat, stared at her from his spot at the end of Leslie’s bed. He lifted his paw and gave it a lick. Settled his fluffy head back onto the bed and promptly fell to sleep. Leslie could hear him purr from across the room as she settled onto the chair in front of her vanity table.
Just then her phone alerted her to a new text. It was him. The new guy, Robert. Two weeks ago, Raven sent her a picture of him via text. He was tall, dark and handsome. Such a cliche. Raven told her not to worry, he was a great guy too. He was in advertising or something. Leslie hoped that their conversation tonight wouldn’t be strained. She prayed she wouldn’t run her mouth too much. It happened a lot. Especially if she had a cocktail or three. She made a mental note to eat a couple of pieces bread before she drank. It would help soak up the alcohol and keep her from making an ass of herself. Damn all this prep work!
Robert’s text informed her he was in the parking lot waiting for her. Leslie replied and let him know that she’d be right down. She’d be damned if he found out where she lived before their first date. She looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Put the finishing touch on her dark but sparkly eyeliner. Painted her lips with a crimson and black lipstain. There was no need for lipstick that would spread into the tiny fissures around her lips.
Time for me to get a move on isn’t it Whiskers?, she said to her fat kitty as she walked past her bed and headed through the bedroom door. Leslie paused at the front door, grabbed her purse and coat. She headed out into the night hoping that Robert might be the right one. That he might love her, for everything that she is. And isn’t.