Oh, me! Oh my, Ella!

“Oh, I love you, Bradley.” The big boobed, blonde cried out, clinging to the back of this “Bradley” character’s neck.
“I love you, too, baby.” He replied in a husky, deep voice.

“I love you, too, baby.” I mocked as they kissed. “Boo. Don’t listen to him, Malibu Barbie. He only wants to s.crew you!”
I threw the remains of my popcorn at the television.
I was sure that anyone who heard from the surrounding appartments would’ve thought I was crazy, or in the slight least, acting a bit immature. But you would do the same if your boyfriend of three years just broke up with you for the campus sl.ut, and the only things that broadcasted on hbo that day were romance flicks.
My cat, “Dog,” purred loudly, brushing against my feet.
“What are you so happy about?” I asked, looking down at him angrily. He immediantly stopped.
“Aw im sorry, Dog.” I appologized, picking him up and placing him on my lap. “Its just been a very bad day. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
He seemed content with my apology and laid down, purring loud enough to wake the neighbors, once again.

It was 12:30 in the morning and I was browsing through channels and eating a tub of rocky road, while waiting for my roomates to get home.
“Want some?” I asked Dog, holding a spoonful of rocky road in his face. He went forward to try it, but I jerked it away from him before he even came close. “Silly, you can’t eat this.” I mumbled with my mouth full, making me sound like I had a lisp.
Dog glared at me, so I glared back and then ruffled his fur, causing him to purr even louder.
“What’s there on t.v.? Well, let’s see?” I rhymed. Sometimes I liked to sound like Doctor Suisse.
I flipped threw channles aimlessly while stufing my face with ice cream. I once heard that rocky road was the cure to all break ups...Just to let you know; whoever said that lied. I will sue them.

Finally, I landed on the channel I loved; Food Network.
I’m not fat, so don’t just assume I like it for the food. I like it to see how to make new things, although, most of the time, I already knew how. My mother was a famous chef, before she died, she taught me everything I know today. That is, in cooking skills, but also the way I act and everything else, even down to the way I wear my hair. Everyone called me “little Carissa” growing up, because they knew I would turn out to be exactly like her. That was the way I wanted it.
The lady on the screen was making chocolate souffles. I had turned it just in time to see her pull them out of the oven.
“Look, Dog.” I said, pointing to the screen. “They aren’t done, yet.”
My cat looked towards the screen then turned back to me.

“Well, I guess they aren’t quite done yet.” The lady replied, putting the tray back into the oven, quickly.
“Hah!” I said jabbing Dog with my elbow. “I was right. I’m always right… Go back to cooking school!” I yelled throwing my spoon at the television.

“Elle, can you refrain from throwing unatimate objects at our slightly expensive television? I don’t need to buy a new one AGAIN.” A guy’s voice came from behind me.
I turned around to face my roomate, Zach, frowning.
His smile quickly turned to a frown once he saw my face.
“Oh, elle...” He replied, laying down his books and coming to sit next me on the sofa. “What happened?”
I looked down towards the ground.
“Well, as you can see, the night I thought would be the most amazing night of my life turned out to be a disaster.”

I felt foolish, to say the least, because the night before Bronson called saying he had something to tell me, and that he wanted to say it over dinner the next day. I told my roomates and both immediately thought he was going to ask the…
question. We’d been going out for three years. I’m 21, he’s 23. It was only appropriate.
So, I went out and bought this amazing 130 dollar dress, got my nails done, made sure my make up, hair and EVERYTHING was perfect.
Then, it started to rain.
I read a lot of books. The people at my university, they either know me for daiting Bronson Heights, their soccor star player, or they know me as the quiet girl who spends her days in the library. On weekends, I spend my days helping the librarian put back books our school’s delinquents disgaurd.
Anyways, if you read a lot, then you know that rain always has a meaning behind it, mostly bad.

But I shook it off, why would I want anything more than to hope for the best?
Then, I reached the restaurant and there was Bronson, sitting at a table in the middle of the room, smiling up at me.
It was like a slow-motion movie moment. My heart starting beating so fast, I swore everyone in the room could hear it because the next thing I knew everyone’s eyes were on me.
I knew, right then and there, it was happening.
The band was playing a beautiful sonata that played perfectly with my heartbeat, and I couldn’t help but smile.

And then, the music seemed to faulter.
Chelsea Myers came from out of nowhere, and attatched herself onto Bronson.
I backed up, with a confused look on my face, and ran into the waitor behind me. Food was thrown in every which direction, but mostly on me. And this time, the bad came to a complete stop.

“B-bronson?” I questioned, sprawled out across the floor, covered in pasta and various flavors of pudding.
Chelsea laughed, clinging onto his side even more. Her laugh seemed to echo the room like a witch’s cackel.
Mascara stained tears streamed down my face as the so-called “love of my life” fought to contain his laughter in front of me.
“Elle, I was going to tell you that we can’t date anymore.” He replied, looking down on the floor.

I got up grabbing onto the waitor’s arm who was trying his best to clean up the mess I had caused.
“Why?” I began, now standing up and fuming with anger. “Why did you ask me to go to dinner if you were just going to break up with me?”
I finished the sentence, nearly breaking off into tears, once again.

“Come on, Elle.” Bronson began, coming near me. “We both know “this” wasn’t working out...I mean, Elle, you’re not attracted to me.”
“W-what?” I asked, shakily.
Bronson licked his lips and came closer trying to grab my arm. I jerked away. “Elle,” he sighed, understanding he wasn’t going to touch me tonight. “We’ve never had se.x.” He tried to whisper but failed, miserably.
I looked up at him confused. “You think that because I haven’t had sex with you...that I’m not attracted to you?”
He looked towards Chelsea and then back at me.
“Well, yeah.”

I laughed. I don’t know why I laughed, but it just seemed so funny to me.
“That’s great. Just amazing.” I replied shrugging, and looking to my side seeing an old man staring at me, mouth opened wide, with a cain in his hands.
“See, I told you she’d understand.” He said to Chelsea.
“Why is she here?” I asked, looking at Bronson once again.
“Chelsea?”
“Yeah.” I replied and the room fell quiet once again. Bronson stared, sheepishly at the floor boards. I put my hands on my hips. “Did you sleep with her?”
I asked him. He paused for a second and then replied. “Not exactly..”
I shook my head and laughed, turning my head around in the direction of the waiter behind me. “Can I borrow that?” I asked him. He pointed to the cake questioningly, and I nodded while taking it from his grasp.

“Oh, come on, Elle, you’re not gonna thr-” But before he could finish, he was already on the ground coevered in cream cheese frosting with pigments of pink.
Chelsea ran over to Bronson, fakily gasping. I laughed and thanked the waitor for the cake.

“Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen. That is the end of our show. Now, enjoy your dinner.” I said taking a bow and walking out the front door.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Wow.” That was all Zach said.
“Yep, I replied, facing forward to bring my attention back to food network.
“Did the pudding taste good, at least?” He asked, laughing.
I turned towards him and laughed, also. “Oh, yeah.” I said. “In fact, I think I still have some around here.”