The Pathetic Romance of a Mean Cough

Chapter 2: The Spaniard

She was so desperate that she looked around the room of her "single conference club" and tried to single out the man to be her next date. But it looked like the whole room had found someone at last. She closed her eyes and a single tear danced out of her eyelid. She sighed, thinking about how much she wanted a exotic Spaniard man, preferably one who was good with kids, one who declared his love to her romantically in Spanish with flowers and chocolate. If she's being honest, though, she really didn't need him to buy her chocolate because every day after work she ran to the local pharmacy and bought herself chocolate. She was a desperate woman, but she also an independent woman! Which brings us to another topic- work. Every lunch break was spent scanning the workplace for a suitable mate, like a hungry T-Rex hunting for an innocent victim to devour. Ironically, if you tilted your head enough, she looked like a T-Rex, especially in that green knitted sweater that was either found in the Target dollar bin or sewn by her drunk and demented grandma. Which was part of her grand ensemble that day. Eagerly looking around for Christopher, a dashing Spaniard (who was apparently exotic and good with children). This single's conference was supposedly some type of date, which was pathetic, but frankly this woman has no other option. She swooned romantically as the man walked across the classroom, sniffling tenderly and grabbing a tissue. "Oh, if only I could be the booger inside of his beautiful nose". But little did she know she would be the one who had boogers, because Christopher was infecting everyone with his mean cough. Soon, the whole room was full of dripping noses, leakier than a broken garden hose. Drip, Drip, Drip. In a metaphorical way, Christopher would be a mechanic to cure one of the leaky noses. Stumbling across the room, he grabbed a single tissue and tossed the rest of the box into the trash can. "Here", he rasped, handing her the wrinkled tissue, winking (or maybe it was an eye twitch, who knows). And in that instant, she knew this was the man. Who else would go across the room to grab her a tissue, who else was so kind, so considerate, so generous, so thoughtful? And who else was good with kids, and knew Spanish? One who would teach her the language of love (mi amor, bonita, ect, ect) and one she could teach the talent of finding valuables in the dollar bin, which ironically is what she had done! Here was a lucky find, a gem, gold berries in the outcast pile of lonely wrinkles. Because it was just the age where skin started to sag, and at this point it wasn't worth buying lotion or sunscreen. The damage was just irreparable, like her past dating life, but here was a chance to get a face lift! A love life! A new chance with a man who was something special and different! "Hola, I heard you liked Spanish mi amigo" she sighed, fluttering her eyelashes. She hoped he couldn't hear her desperate, pounding heart, and she hoped he found her cheap lipstick attractive. He looked briefly confused (as if he didn't know Spanish), but he quickly dropped on one knee, proclaiming "you are the mujer bonita that Katherine told me about, y por favor accompany me to McDonald's por un dato." He attempted a Mexican twirl and an American eyebrow raise. "I've heard so much about you, Senora". She didn't know this was possible, for such a man to exist. She was immediately charmed by his Spanish flirtations, by his graceful dancing, and the fact that he remembered her. She barely knew him, yet she had fallen in love. Fallen in a pit of regret, chains, and never-ending Spanish songs.