When Summer Met Darla

It's been awhile. And I don't think anyone is even reading this anymore, and why would they? I've been radio silent for, what, a year now? But on the off chance someone somewhere at some point happens upon this page, he/she will find a posting that is not way past its shelf date. 

I take a writing course at NCSU every summer, and this year one of the classes I took was creative non-fiction. Which basically means real life... only more detailed and spiced up than your average diary entry. Think David Sedaris. If you don't know that name... why do I know you? 

In conclusion- I wrote this during my creative non-fiction class. That is all. 

Darla and I met fairly recently. I chose her because she chose me first. Although Darla is technically not a she- that is- Darla is biologically male. I fell in love with her at first sight. She was exactly what I’d been looking for, so, naturally I bought her.

            Darla’s a fish. More specifically, she is my boyfriend’s fish. But she started out belonging to my friend. Same friend as boyfriend. Darla was imperative in that transition.

            His birthday was on a Thursday, and the concept of Darla took shape that Saturday while I was- God forbid- a little tipsy at the beach. Come Wednesday afternoon, Darla still seemed a pretty sound idea.

            Every day I drive my best friend home, but Wednesday afternoon when she got in my car, I asked how she felt about stopping at PetSmart. There was some confusion when I read this to my class thinking my best friend is Darla. I’d like to clarify my best friend is not a fish. She’s a lady person. Anyway, my lady person best friend consented- no questions asked.

            The only hint my past friend (present boyfriend) received was that of a photo of aforementioned human best friend inside a dog crate on display. I can only imagine what he must have thought at that point.

            I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the vast majority of beta fish sold in stores are male- because they’re the pretty ones. Yay feminism! Therefore, PetSmart had no female fish on display. This did not align with the plan in my head. So I wrote an F-E in front of the label reading “Male Beta- Blue.”

            I then took Darla’s cup to the cashier… then I finally realized what was happening. “Wait! What am I doing?” I screeched.

            The poor girl paused, mid-barcode swipe. “I thought you were going to buy the fish.”

            My best friend grabbed my shoulder and reassured the girl that we were in fact still purchasing the stupid fish.

            Panicking, I asked “Why? I barely know him and now I’m buying him a fish?! These ideas should only be shaped during moments of complete sobriety! This is what couples do and he’s going to think I’m a complete weirdo.”

            As good friends do, mine reminded me that I am in fact a weirdo.

            The cashier included a warranty with Darla.

            Late that night I laid down, watching Darla’s aqua tail flick the water in the aquarium I had all set up for her. Her restlessness mimicked mine, anticipating the events of the following day’s gifting.