At one point of my life, I’ve decided to just stop.

I had this euphoria one night after several tossings of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and a band of depressing soul-jumping horror movies that boys were jerks and I did not have time for boys. All of a sudden, I had this hungry woman power to forget about boys, rise to the top above all males, and possibly world domination. Who knew I had such unbecoming thoughts and mind power to think of that? Of course, behind every angry woman who wanted to seek female revenge, there was a boy who broke her heart.

Who was the boy that broke my heart, you ask? Alex McLuvpuffs. Despite his oh-so unmanly name, he managed to seize two years and four months out of my eighteen years of existence and probably made me so drunk in love that I couldn’t even see where our relationship was headed. Although my awesome two-year-and-four-months boyfriend was sugary sweet and farted rainbows (no), he was a dick (Alex McLuvpuffs = Dick).

Since dick was such an Alex, he texted me up one day telling me that he wanted a break.

And basically, my whole world became a draft of sadness and unbearable pain and horse poop. Which was why I was surprised when my trusted flatmate Brandon looped me in a blind date—IN A CIRCUS! He knew about The Heartbreak, and also my-stubborn-hate-for-all-things-circus-y. There was nothing more terrifying in the world than seeing boys sexier than you in leotards doing tricks. I was also worried who was I being paired up with. I mean, not all blind dates were fun and nice.

However, at the dawn of the day (in which the date would start; and me and Brandon and our lovely dates would pick us up at our flat and to the circus) Brandon was able to show me an Insta-pic of my blind date.

“Isn’t he charming?” Brandon spoke in his hip fashion, buttoning up his plain shirt. Honestly, with his manly style, his luscious brown hair and Texas sky-blue eyes, he was no way near in looking gay. He was just neat and tidy, that was it! If he wasn’t, you know, that kind of guy, I would be more than willing to marry him. We both simply had this artistic connection and we both knew it too.

“And why are you dressed up like that? It looks like you’re going to audition for the role of a homeless gu—girl, sorry.”

There was nothing wrong with the outfit I wore, which consisted of my lucky William Shakespeare sweater, black skinny jeans and slippers, so I just glared at my friend and yanked his iPhone from him.

“Seriously, you should at least put some make-up on or something. I could see your zits and all.”

Ouch, I thought, looking down the screen.

Both of my hands held his iPhone that presented an Instagram page of Isaac Rose (aka my-date-for-the-night). Most of his posts were all black-and-white sceneries from different places; there were only two pictures of him, both having black-and-white filters. One had a candid (or I supposed fixed) shot of him holding an expensive-and-thick lens to a Canon Camera, and the other post flashed a grainy shot of a bowtie-wearing grey cat and the waist up of his physique. Figures Brandon had hooked me up with one of his friends in the art domain, which made me glad.

“He looks cool.” I told him nonchalantly, secretly excited. Art guys were totally my type, nothing could change that. Now that I realized who I was spending the evening with, I was firing up with excitement. I could already imagine our conversation topics would be like: photography, places, and filters! Oh, my gosh! What if he liked writing too? Our children would grow up to be the most famous Art illustrious-people in the worl-

“I know right? We’re going to have so much fun!” Brandon squealed. I (somehow) laughed and moved out of the way as he ran to his mirror. Putting his phone casually on the nearest transparent table, I walked out of his clean room.

Maybe a little make-up wouldn’t hurt.






Okay, maybe my expectations were too high.

Isaac Rose wasn’t actually a photographer or anything I’d expected, he was a singer—not a famous one but a singer nonetheless. I could live with that, if ever we reallydo get married. But I guess I shouldn’t expect our kids to be art-geniuses anymore… Actually, we were really hitting up in the car. But, not as much as Brandon and Lucas McAleer though. They were seriously laughing the whole way to the circus while Isaac and I held a steady and conversation which entailed the usual ice breaker questions.

“Okay, we’re here.” Isaac perturbed to mention as we drove in a dark open parking lot with crazy circus lights up ahead. The cliché red and white tent stood amidst of everything and every boy and girl that bothered to come. “Yay,” I cheered monotonously. The moment the car rustled stop against the pebbles on the ground, Brandon and Lucas were gone.

“Sooo,” Isaac clicked his tongue, flipping on a red beanie. He turned to me with a smile. “Where do you wanna go, Ms. Date for the night?”

“I’d suggest the love tunnel but I guess we’re not exactly the conventional pair to do so.”

“Hmmmm, right. However, the game booths might suit our needs for the night.”

He was thinking what I was thinking.

“You know, I actually thought Brandon was going to set me up with some gay guy,” I laughed as we shared a bag of popcorn. The line for the game that showcased a gigantic Blue-and-White penguin (Penguins were my love) was too long, so we decided to hang about the booths to wait for the public to lessen. “I swear that guy is trying to convert me or something.”

“Hey! I’m actually a gay guy—a happy guy.”

I threw kernels of corn at him like a ninja. “YOU’RE SO CORNY.” He successfully dodged it all, which made me giggle.

“You’re a writer,” he repeated once we walked another round near an old carousel.

“Yeah,” I confirmed, waving my ponytail around. My hands were oily due to the popcorn, so I simply let it hang from my wrists without contact to my jeans. “Mostly plays though. I quit my job after my first play was produced, so that’s basically what I do for a living now; which actually doesn’t pay much if you think about it.”

He nodded, agreeing. “Yup. People think that if you’re some singer or writer you get the big bucks, which is just so hackneyed in society. Unknown singers actually have lesser salary than the nearest Starbucks Barista. But we’re born artists and we love anything and everything about the indefinite world of art so we seriously can’t just stop in going for our art-defined dreams and work for some shitty bank and earn loads. No. That’s just disgusting, ugh. Business is for old people. I’m just twenty-one! Parents are just so stupid, you know?”

I had a feeling that we weren’t talking about art now.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded with my eyes wide at him. I could hear our feet crunching on the stones as we hurried towards the Penguin booth. My eyes lit up as I realized that there were only four people left, and which made me happier that they were in a group.

Before Isaac could utter anything related to his parents and his age and his job issues, I pulled him towards the booth. Fortunately, the group of four teens lost and walked away laughing.

“One game, please!” I cheered to the giddy redhead who stood behind the table. She cheered back, “Okay!” Honestly, this could be the highlight of my night if I were to win that penguin. Things gigantic made me feel homey and comfortable, so what better way to have something gigantic in my arms in the duration of my sleeping nights?

“Here you go!” Redhead handed me three white balls to hit the three glasses separated from each other. My gaze shot up to the grand prize, which was the super mega awesome penguin stuffed toy. I could already see it on my bed, smiling at me with its cute flippers and everything adorable about it.

I held a throwing pose, until my date coughed beside me. “Why don’t I do it?” He questioned with a smile. I felt kind of annoyed that he even bothered to ask that. Fine, he was my date but I paid for the game so I deserved to throw the ball.

I was usually snappy and sassy about what I wanted to do, but seeing his lovable grin and eagerness to win made me feel at ease.

“Sure,” the words rolled out of my tongue like butter. He took three of the balls from my grasp with a manly squeal.

Oh gosh, I was going to kill him if he didn’t win this thing.

“Uh, no pressure and all, Isaac Rose but this game booth is usually my thing and Ialways win and I freakin’ paid for this one game so if you messed this up and you didn’t get me that stupid Penguin plush I would personally suck the soul out of your body and mess up your hair and toss your hipster glasses down the Grand Canyon and make you hang on the brink of the Niagara Falls until you get me a substitute Penguin stuffed toy (Or better, a real Penguin!),” I was eager to tell him but I felt like It was going to scare him away.

In a blink of an eye, he went for the first bottle… AND IT HAPPENED. IT SHOT THE GLASS. I couldn’t be happier in my life. I watched the glass fall effortlessly off the table, with the inevitable sound of glass crashing on a blanket.

“YAY!” I cried out in glee, tossing myself upon Isaac Rose’s body. He laughed amorously, taking my wrists of him. “We still have two left, chill!”

“I can’t help it!” I told him, feeling kind of comfortable around him now. “I reallywant that penguin. I mean, just look at that!” I pointed above the ceiling where it hung with its cute and absolute glory.

“Okay,” he blinked with amusement. “Now you just pressured me.” But I could tell that he didn’t really care… I think?

“Um, sorry to interrupt your ‘thing’ but there’s a time limit in booths so I suggest that you finish the game before I tell you to run off.” The giddy redhead spoke up with this strained smile that expressed that she didn’t really like our elongated time between the first glass and the second.

“Okay,” I faced him. “Go!”

I began clapping as he faced the three glasses again. This time, I had more faith that I would have the lovely penguin in my arms and I’d have Isaac Rose to thank for it.

And indeed like the first glass, the second fell with the same force of the ball. This time, I didn’t bother to compliment Isaac on his throwing skills but rather gestured him to go on.
By this time, I was kind of assured that I would have that penguin. I was in the zone of daydreaming when I suddenly saw that in reality the world was dark as Snow White’s hair. You know why? Because Isaac missed the third glass.

I was in the state of doom as my eyes went towards my blind date like vipers. “What. Just. Happened.” I croaked out in misery. I couldn’t bear looking above the ceiling, where the penguin was probably smirking at me. Na na- na na- na!

I was crushed.

“Uh, sorry.” Isaac’s head hung down with shame. We stood there for a few seconds until he perked up and suggested to buy more food. I gaped at him. Seriously? Food? At a time of misery and downfall? Was. He. Serious.

In the end, I followed the boy sadly. He led me to a part where there were confectionaries and junk food, making it seemed like I was in a little kid’s dream world. The little smile of the penguin was still enclosed in my head, letting me sigh every few times in a minute. I knew I was making Isaac feel guilty for losing, seeing that he was shooting me strained smiles. Initially, I was the one who should have played the game, not him! I knew I couldn’t get mad at him even how much I wanted to.

In the middle of our walk around with our fresh sodas and corndogs, we ventured far within the circus where the crowd was thinner. The booths mostly sold stuffs, so it was an obvious fact that kids were nowhere to be seen.

I was still slightly depressed from the game and the food when Isaac suddenly gripped my wrist. I blushed at the fact but faced him anyway, wondering why he did that.

“Look, Cosette! There’s a toy shop overhead. Maybe there’s a penguin or something else you want.” Bless his soul. I couldn’t help but smile at him, feeling touched.

“Okay!” I grinned up, running with him. From afar, my eyes could observe two people surrounding the booth keeper. Besides the fact that there was a possibility of having a stuffed penguin there, I was indifferent with the people and surroundings around me.

“DO YOU HAVE A PENGUIN TOY OR WHAT?!” I stopped to breathe and huff, my palm hovering over my chest. Isaac stopped beside me, staring at me amusedly. My eyes looked up towards the booth keeper—a twenty-something attentive college-grad who simply smiled at me with welcome, as if finally there was someone going to his store.

“We sure do,” he said. “But unfortunately, this guy right here is currently buying it.Unless, you have a higher offer for it?” I narrowed my eyes as I could detect the gleam from the seller’s eyes.

Rolling my eyes, I turned towards the buyer but gasped exaggeratedly to see it was none other than Blondie (or, Luke Hemmings as I found out on google).

“It’s you…” I gritted my teeth.

There he was in his lip-ringed, irritatating glory, Mr. Luke Hemmings.

Luke with all his utter snobby exterior looked at me with the corner of his eye and sassily ignored me. His friend who squealed out “Adventure Time” (as I briefly recollected) during the bathroom encounter smiled at me with his deep dimples.

“Hey! You’re the girl who threw the Arizona on dear ole’ Luke, right?” He laughed a boisterous laugh with his Australian accent. I coughed up a laugh, but quickly face the seller. “I’m willing to pay a higher amount for that penguin toy!” I slammed the table all business-like.

Isaac gave a whoop behind me, telling everyone he was on my side. I was expecting an enraged roar from my competition for the penguin, but instead he just glared at me, keeping his inexistent voice inside him unlike the time we met near the cubicles. I could still hear his loud voice that kept shouting unbecoming Australian words of sorts.



“Give the penguin to me, or else you’ll find your precious, blonde hair gone in the morning.”

Notes

honestly i hate this platform.

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