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BH

Last year I went on a trip to meet one of my greatest friends in person. It’s one of those things that my frenchies did for me, they made me meet Camilli. So, off I went to BH.

I spent endless hours (more than a day) on the airport because they screwed up my flight. I passed through five different airports. I had my iPod on all the time and I listened to a lot of Death Cab for Cutie.

I got to BH (her city) and we went straight to a dog show. Besides the frenchies and the great company, everyone was so lovely, it was the state where I was born and I didn’t even know it or anyone really from there. I immediatelly loved everyone and the atmosphere there. Maybe the place you’re born has this influence on you. You don’t have to have family from there, or be brought up there. Or maybe it’s just me.

So now, as I sit here and type this and a song by Death Cab for Cutie comes up, I can’t help but remember the trip, the long hours on the airports, the city, the malls, the dog show… I really wish I was going there again.

The trip only lasted for a week and it wasn’t the best timing in the world after all. Or maybe it was, you never know, right? But all I know is that it was one of those moments I will always remember, to the day I am wrinkled, old and happily breeding and showing my frenchies full time.

Cool Aunt

I had a cool aunt while I was growing up. I loved her so much because she was really young. We got to do all sorts of fun things together, and she didn’t feel like a parent. It was easy and fun spending my holidays with her. She would drive me to parks, to the mall, to the movies. I would hang out with her ex-sister-in-law who was two years older than I was (I was around 12 back then) and bloody rich. We travelled to some really great islands on their boat, ate fancy food, stayed on hotels which were over the top, went horseback riding…

I still love spending time with this aunt of mine. She still makes me feel the same way, as if it’s a holiday and I’m twelve and we’re going to Simba Safari.

Looking at my sister who is 14 years younger than me and treats me as if I’m Crack in the shape of a person, I feel like I’m her cool aunt. I can take her to the zoo, let her have ice cream before lunch and not make a fuss when she spills.

And being a cool aunt feels just as great as having a cool aunt.

Does this even count as a Love Story?

When I was in 4th grade and around 12 years old, I had a huge crush on this boy. His name was Rômulo, and he was so shy and adorable! We didn’t speak much, but we had a friend in common back then. She wanted to help so she kind of set us up to date, except we were both too shy to even speak to each other.

With the end of the year closing in, I decided to do something about it, since it didn’t look like he was going to have the nerves to come up to me. So I sent him a note asking to meet him at the end of the class, which he did. So I popped the question, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” or something as lame, to which he replied, “I accept”. He actually said that. Without knowing what to do next, I mumbled something about having to go (I even remember looking at my broken wrist watch to give some dramma effect) and ran out of the school. That was one of the last times we ever spoke.

A few years later, when I was 14 going on 15, a friend of his told a friend of mine that we used to be a couple. To which I wanted to answer, “Yes, we used to be, a couple of idiots”. It was just so weird that we never got to talk or even act on it, we were just so shy and I kept wondering if I had done anything wrong, or if there was anything wrong with me. Years later I got my first kiss, and I did find out there were all sorts of things wrong with me, like the fact that I can’t take anything serious or my geekiness and hyperness, but that’s a whole different matter.