Day 14: Spoony

Word of the Day:

spoony

adjective

  1. Informal. foolishly or sentimentally amorous.
  2. Informal. foolish; silly.

Alright, then.

“Oh, stop being spoony,” she said.  “He’s just a boy.”

Ailís blinked.  “Just a boy?!” she asked shrilly.  “Just a boy?!  Oh my God, Caitríona, are you even paying attention?  He is the love of my life!”

Caitríona sighed, shaking her head.

Two weeks later, Ailís was single; although she was greatly surprised, Caitríona was not.

Eh.  Not my best, but whatever.  Also, I’m very sorry if this hurt you, Pearl.

Cara Kennaway

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14 thoughts on “Day 14: Spoony

  1. I appreciate your consideration. I’m not quite as fragile as, like, fine china though. I’m functioning at sort of a sturdy-ceramic-pot level; if I’m dropped from a great enough height, I’ll shatter, but if you only drop me on the kitchen floor I should be okay.

    I’ll post mine a little later.

      1. Let’s say that this post is dropping me onto the kitchen counter. Then “NotBroken” by the Goo Goo Dolls is a four-and-a-half foot tall person dropping me on the floor (if I’m watching the music video, the height increases to six feet). Dropping me from several stories would be like if a returned missionary wrote a memoir about how and why he broke up with his girlfriend while on his mission, which then went on to detail how pleased he was with his decision and how he felt like his mission was a huge blessing because if he hadn’t gone he might’ve ended up with her and that would’ve been just terrible. (Naturally, if I came across such a book I wouldn’t read it, because even though I am only a humble ceramic pot I do still have some self-preservative instincts.)

        1. Haha, you’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this. I find the title of “NotBroken” particularly ironic considering this analogy. I’m curious: *Why* would a missionary write such a memoir?

          1. Possibly to encourage other young men to go on missions, or to discourage them from pursuing romantic relationships before serving. Or just ’cause he felt like sharing his experiences. Not every memoir ever written has some profound or underlying purpose.

          2. (For some reason I can’t reply directly to your last comment, so…)

            There are Mormon publishing houses and bookstores which would doubtless be willing to publish and sell such a work. There are probably a few mission memoirs in existence. I know for a fact there are movies (some fictional, some documentaries) about missions and the people who serve them.

          3. Right, but if the entire memoir is about how great it was to break up with his theoretical girlfriend (which seems unlikely in itself)…Mormon publishing houses still have standards, I would think. (Sorry; am I killing the poetry of your example?)

          4. I was sort of picturing a story in which missionary is planning on marrying girlfriend, but is then called by God to go on a mission, during which he sees that girlfriend would’ve been the wrong choice of wife. Then missionary comes home and meets another girl who proves to be the perfect wife. So the memoir is about the perfection of God’s timing and how grateful he is to God for sending him on the mission and thus saving him from ending up with the wrong girl, etc., etc., which Mormons (and Christians in general, really) would eat up.

  2. You must understand, if she had only been acting spoony, or dreamy, or even addlepated, I wouldn’t have done it. I see no harm in a bit of hopeless longing now and again. Even I, I will admit, have had my moments of going to plays simply to see certain actors I favored or drawing sketches of fictional characters on the margins of papers. Of course those days are behind me now, but I feel that one should not be ashamed to remember one’s adolescence, and I am not ashamed to remember mine.

    No, I didn’t do what I did because I thought it was wrong for her to like them or to consider them handsome, charming, or talented. Such feelings would’ve been quite acceptable to me. It was the level of… dare I say it… obsession which she had begun to show towards them. She spoke of them incessantly, listened to their music so constantly I’m surprised she didn’t grow as tired of it as I did, and began sharing with me the strangest and most esoteric facts about them. She knew their birthdays, their middle names! How on earth did she even learn these things? Surely no one can blame me for starting to feel concern.

    So yes, I removed the One Direction poster from her wall and burned it. At the moment, she is refusing to speak to me and acting like I’ve done something unforgivable, but I believe she’ll someday thank me for starting her down the path toward freedom from this all-encompassing preoccupation. My conscience is clear.

    1. This is one of the greatest things I’ve ever read, Pearl. Fabulous. I’m all like, “Oh my God, did the speaker do something terrible?!” and then I saw “OneDirection poster” and just burst out laughing. Well done. (Disclaimer: I listen to way too many British/Irish folk songs about evil fathers murdering their daughters and daughters’ boyfriends, so if I jumped to conclusions…Well.)

      1. *Bows*

        Thank you. I’m glad that you enjoyed it so much. (Understandable. And I was going for something of a misdirect, create-certain-expectations-and-then-foil-them-for-comedic-purposes thing. So I’m delighted that it worked.)

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