Red Fish, Blue Fish, One Fish, Catfish
I thought the love was real
My life is best described as a series of unfortunate events that were completely avoidable. When I was 7, I almost severed my finger after closing it in my mother’s sliding door van. I used peroxide and a band-aid in lieu of stitches. When I was 10, I was hit by a car after ignoring the basic fundamental of looking both ways before crossing the street. And when I was 15, I thought I found the love of my life on Myspace.
The year was 2005- the Mcdouble was the greatest burger ever engineered and Ja Rule was on the tail-end of an unlikely run.
Like all great millennial love stories, ours started with a DM. I added a lot of girls. Tons of girls. All the girls. Girls who liked to be added. I sent them all “thanks 4 da add” messages, to let them know, despite what they may have heard- they were appreciated. But she messaged me first.
“H3Y! CuT!E” her message read. “HeY. S3Xy”, I replied. That’s how we typed in the early 2000s.
When I clicked on her profile, she was beautiful. Like, unbelievably beautiful. Flowing black hair, blockbuster smile, and skin smooth as butter, to boot
She was, for all practical purposes- a dime!
