The Boyfriend Store
They led me down a small flight of steps. There were only four or five of them, but I tripped on a loose brick on the last step. I stumbled, laughed to myself and then looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. They hadn't.
As we walked down the narrow road in silence I wondered what circumstances had led me here, to this point in my life. And how the hell did the couples I knew manage to get through all the preliminary stages, the dating, the fighting, and still make it out OK?
I didn't believe in love anymore. That's what led me to be here.
I came to the conclusion that love doesn't exist after the remnants of my first one finally faded. An inevitable slew of epiphanies of how the loves I'd idolized never really existed followed shortly thereafter. A man always has a wandering eye or a woman always thinks he does. And what happens when the man you're meant to be with doesn't love you? The timing was off. You're crazy. It'll never work.
It didn't take us long to get there. The store-front had a large overhang and a plain brown door with a brass handle. There were no windows. After much time and contemplation I finally heeded some friendly advice to, "get your own fucking boyfriend."
All I needed in life for companionship and for someone to give it to me regularly was behind that brown door. Here, at the Boyfriend Store.