Rosie Labrun is a lot of things: a college student on the cusp of graduation; an intern for the Portland Pirates, a romance novel connoisseur; and the most recent addition to her resume...the girlfriend of a professional athlete.
She won't let it d...
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We find comfort in labels; assigning ourselves and the people around us, into boxes that can be perfectly closed and tucked away on a shelf. Only to never be opened again - not unless you need that one specific thing, or a plot for some cheesy romantic comedy.
Manwhore changes himself because he met the right girl; shy girl finds her voice because the jock took off her glasses; computer nerd lands the hottest girl in school and gains the confidence of a quarterback - while managing to keep the frames. Not only keep the frames, he makes them a fashion statement.
In the real world, people are much, much different.
I know most people probably see me as cynical, unappreciative, undeserving of a man like Erik King. Hell, sometimes even I wonder why he puts up with me; why he hasn't booked a one-way ticket to anywhere but with her. Everyday I wake up beside him feels like a day longer living in a dream; and every night feels like I should be preparing for a nightmare.
Because if there's one thing I've learnt in life, it's that the other shoe is bound to drop. And after spending the last twenty-one years reeling from letdown after setback after betrayal, I was finally prepared for it. I was prepared for anything and everything life would throw my way. Until I met him.
"Ready?" Erik - being the him that I think about and am usually referencing, asks as we sit outside his parents' house. I use the term house the same way someone would say Kim Kardashian has a nice butt or a porn star has big boobs. Weird comparison? Well, it's the truth.
His parent's place is located in one of the richest neighborhoods in Toronto; Drake himself, having once lived on this street. Everyone living here is famous; everyone living here is rich; everyone here, is someone. And I, well, I'm just Rosie Labrun. I would try and make myself sound more interesting; but other than having once put my boobs on the interweb, I am anything but.
Meeting his parents; being in his "hood", I'm afraid will make them see that I'm more boring than someone that lives on plain yogurt and actually likes low-fat food. How am I supposed to make conversation with people that have travelled the whole world? How am I supposed to seem good enough for their son when I don't even feel good enough for him?
These are all good questions; but much like anytime I propose them to my therapist, our time seems to have come to an end.
"Erik! Come on in!" A woman answers the door, wearing enough perfume to make a Polish Church have an allergic reaction. She's not his mom - I've seen photos of her from snooping online. She married Erik's dad when they were just out of high school and then proceeded to have his three kids.
Lincoln, Erik, and Connor. And no - this time, I did not need to Google it.
"And you must be Rosie." The lady exclaims, pulling me in for a suffocating hug after she's given one to him. She's short - shorter than me and likely everyone else, anytime she's in a room. With an apron hanging from her neck and tied loosely around her back, but her hair perfectly curled, I would say she's, his sister-in-law. Or maybe the cook his family will try to set him up with?
