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Brevity of the Butterfly
Butterflies ony live for a very short amount of time. In fact, someone told me once taht they spend more time as a caterpillar athan a butterfly and more time still in the cocoon. Now, I don't know if that's true or not, but it's sort of a metaphor for life, don't you think? I mean, we spend all this time getting ready for just a fleeting moment of glory and then it's gone. Befre we know it all we've got left is memories ad some sort of mess to clean up.
I tugged on my solid black neck tie. I always hate putting those things on. I can never tie it just right, so I wind up playing wit hthe twisted and odd knot all night to get it to look perfect. The result is usually that the tie winds up being so tight that I can barely breathe, so for the rest of the night I have to nervously tug on it every few minutes or so. "At least it looks good," I think to myself as I stare into the sleek mirror. The me staring back gives an approving half-smile and I know that I do, in fact look very good - that's important. On occasions such as these I can never bring myself to leave the house unless I look and feel just right.
My shirt is a deep scarlet. It's got a sort of shine to it, but it's not too flashy. I don't like when a guy gets dressed really flashy. I think that it takes away from the effect that his date will have on people. I know that by how I'm dressed, people will pay more attention to her. That's another important thing. But I also don't want to look like some jerk who's too plain to even notice. The suit I'm wearing has darkly colored pinstripes; they're not flashy at all. In fact, you'd have to be pretty close to me to even notice them. They're a nice touch though.
Satisfied with my appearance, I step out of the bathrrom, the heels of my freshly polished dress boots clacking on the vinyl tiles in the kitchen. I make my way across the room to the little beat up old kitchen table. On top of it is a bouquet of flowers, red carnations that match the shirt I'm wearing perfectly. Anyone who looked at me could tell I put a lot of thought into everything tonigh, but I'll never let my personality reflect that. I'm sure when I get to JoDee's house, her eyes will light up with excitement at the sight of me. She'll be happy that I took the time to find a shirt that perfectly matched her dress and even brought her flowers, but a gentleman doesn't let such things go to his head. Sure, I'm the greatest guy ever. Not showing it, however, is all part of why I am.
Finally I've made it into a portion of the house where I'm not alone. My mother and grandmother are both standing in the living room waiting for me. They both get excited when I finally walk out.
"You look so handsome!" my mother squeals with delight as my groggy baby sister kind of makes a disapproving face. She wasn't disapproving of me, per se, it's just that she had just woken up from her nap and was not happy with all the loud noises going on soon afterward.
"Susan, be sure to get a picture of him," My grandmother advised my mother.
With those words a barrage of picture taking began. I'm not too fond of just standing around and posing for a camera, so I'll opt not to recall the details of that part.
I then got into my car and turned the key in the ignitioni, the engine purring as it warmed up. I flicked on some tunes and waved goodbye to my grandmother, mother and sister and was on my way.
I arrived at my girlfriend's house and seh rushed out to greet me, her golden hair bobbing up and down as she walked down her front steps. I presented her with her flowers, and like I had predicted, the joy on her face made everythign seem worthwhile. She embraced me and planted a long kiss on my lips. I wiped the lipstick off and smiled at her. At least she was happy. I hate being in a monkey suit, but I'd do anything just to be thanked for it like that.
It seems now, that the actual event was a lot quicker than the preparations for it. But that's how it always is, isn't it?