Cupid's Perfect Choice

“Mhmm... mhmm... hmm.” I continue humming over the phone for another half an hour, paying more attention to painting my toes neon pink than to my mother’s persistent attempts to lure me into meeting yet another candidate who she believes will be the perfect husband for me.

“Oh, enough already.” I hear dad argue on the other side as he snatches the device from her and I smile. “Give her a break. She’s still young.”

“Oh, thank God.” I mumble. “Hey, Dada.”

“Hi, sweetie. Just ignore your mother. I don’t want you picking up the first nobody who crosses paths with you and marrying him.” I can imagine his jaw clenching as he shakes his head at mother.

“Don’t worry, dad. I won’t.” I enthusiastically assure him, ignoring the hour long call that mom just spent trying to convince me that it is about time I get married. I guess I took the stubborn gene from her.

“Yes, don’t. You’re still young. No need to rush.” His supportive tone warms my heart and I automatically beam.

“Thank you, Dada. I really wish I could talk some more, but I need to go and get some sleep. I have to wake up early for work tomorrow.” I explain, setting the nail polish back in the first drawer of my nightstand.

“I don’t even get that whole having a job thing.” My mom’s voice roars through the small device, making me roll my eyes. “I mean, you should be getting married to a handsome rich man, or at least you should be staying here with us till he comes along. You should not be wasting your time having a crappy job and staying in a rental apartment when you can be living a comfortable life with your loving parents.”

“No, Mama.” I sigh for the hundredth time this night. “I told you before that I don’t need your money. I have a job and an apartment and it’s all of my own, and I’m perfectly happy with the life I’m living now.” I cringe as I lie out of my ass.

I mean, I’m not the happiest if I’m being honest. I’m actually quite broke, but they don’t need to know that, now do they? Nope.

So what if I barely have any money? It’s a new experience anyway. I’m sure I will get through this just fine.

“Yes! That’s my daughter. See, Mary? I raised her well. I raised her to be independent and a hard worker just like me.” My dad flaunts the truth with pride.

My father started his life with almost nothing. He didn’t take anything from his rich parents and started working hard until he became a successful businessman who owns a well-known company. My parents are not stupidly rich but they are doing quite well. They live a comfortable life where money isn’t an issue. My dad married my mom twenty five years ago, and when I came along he started teaching me how to be like him: Independent, wise and optimistic. Okay, maybe I’m not wise enough yet, but I try.

He always says, “Whatever you fight hard for always ends up yours.” And that is the reason why I’m as stubborn as I could ever get. I just don’t know when to quit, technically.

My mother, on the other hand, is the total opposite of my father, yet they fit so perfectly well that I get jealous sometimes. She wants me to get married as soon as possible and give her at least half a dozen of grandchildren. She didn’t want me to move out two years ago, or try to get a job at all.

I, however, am forever confused. I mean, why on earth would I not want to get married? I’ve always been a hopeless romantic at heart. And well, marriage doesn’t sound bad at all. The sooner the better too, because I honestly don’t think I can wait much longer for my prince charming to show his handsome face and sweep me off my feet.

But, I’m not yet desperate enough for an arranged marriage, and that’s why I keep declining mother’s plans for setting me up. I believe I have still have time to find my prince on my own. I mean, I’m only twenty three, for God’s sake.

Deciding to escape the never ending arguement between my parents, I say my goodnights and hang up. Getting under the covers, I yawn and stir a little before I look up and stare at the ceiling.

I do wonder though, where is my prince now? I mean, do I know even him? Have we ever met before?

I wonder if we ever crossed paths without knowing that we are going to be each other’s true love. I mean, maybe we pumped into each other in the grocery store once or twice without knowing that some day we are gonna get married.

But when will that be? When will I meet him and start getting my heart fluttering as he picks me up to go on dates? When will he propose and how romantic will his proposal be? It’s kind of scary having absolutely no answers when it comes to something as important as my future love life. I mean, It could take years, for all I know. And as much as I like to keep a cool image, I honeslty can’t wait much longer.

I have never been anyone’s special someone before. Yes, I have a fair list of ex-boyfriends, but never a love like I imagine my husband’s to be. Never the passionate and heartaching kind of love that would leave me breathless and dying for more.

I wonder if my future husband, on the contrary, does have a special someone at the moment. What if he’s with her right now? A girlfriend who he loves dearly, cherishes and pampers.

Hold the fuck on. What if they’re actually having sex right this second, while I’m left here with my desperate hopes and illogical bang of jealousy, driving me absolutely insane?

God, I need to get laid soon. This is seriously unhealthy. I’m a twenty three year old virgin who keeps fantasizing about a husband who is technically nonexistent.

I frown and cover my face with a pillow.

But, seriously, imagine someone taking my hand right now and pointing at an absolutely gorgeous piece of eye candy, someone I have never met before, and telling me that that’s my future husband. I’ll be like “Whoa! Easy there. I don’t even know him.” And they’ll be like, “Well, that’s yet to happen.” And my epic lovestory will finally start then. That would be damn awesome.

I giggle at my own illogically hopeful thoughts and yawn again. I take my favorite sleeping position and push all of these thoughts to the back of my mind. With a deep sigh, a silly smile on my face, and a vivid imagination of a romantic proposal, I finally drift to sleep.

******

Now, where are we? I’ve never been here before. Spotless white walls and matching floors meet my eyes as I look around.

“Hello?” I call, and the sound of my voice echoes through the empty halls of this building. There must be no one here.

“Hannah.”

Jumping around, I take a defensive position and a couple of steps back. Meeting the eyes of my potential attacker, I swallow. Where the hell did he come out from?

“Who are you?” I frown, checking him out really quickly. Light oceans of blue, broad shoulders, short brown hair, and a cute smile greet me.

“Hello, Hannah. Look, we don’t have much time, your alarm will go off soon. I’m just gonna jump to the chase, alright?” Nervously looking around, the stranger swallows hard.

My alarm? Oh, so this must be one of those lucid dreams, where I know that I’m only dreaming. Alright, I guess.

“Uh, okay?” I blink with a confused shrug.

“Hannah, I’m Cupid.” He straightens his shoulders and looks me dead in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” I raise my eyebrows, my lips twitching involuntarily upwards.

“I’m Cupid. Your cupid. Seriously.” He nods his head, checking the empty halls once more. I throw my head back and laugh my heart out.

God, I must be truly desperate if I’m dreaming about handsome Cupids now. It’s all your fault, Mama.

“Cu-cupid?” I try to contain my laughter when he glares at me, I truly do, but this is too funny, even for me.

“Yes, Cupid.” Impatiently, he crosses his arms in what I take as annoyance.

“Nice to meet you, Cupid. I’m Tinkerbell.” I burst out laughing again, but he clears his throat and somehow his irritation seems to pin me in place. “You’re not serious.”

Standing back straight, I frown, only to recieve a nod in return. “But you’re not in diapers!” I wave my hands at his outfit. He is wearing a normal plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and faded blue jeans.

“Excuse me?” He raises his brows at me.

“You’re not a chubby cute little baby in diapers! You don’t even have a bow and an arrow or at least that golden round thing that angels and cupids have on top of their heads.” I argue.

The only thing he has in common with cupids are his piercing blue eyes though; I’ll give him that.

“A halo?” He tilts his head to the side and I only blink. “Yeah, well, I’m not an animated character. I’m a real person, and I truly am your cupid, Hannah. Please believe me so we could discuss why I’m here.”

Alright, here we go. Rule number one: When stuck in a dream with an insane person, just play along.

“Well, Cupid, where am I?” Deciding to humor him, I look around and see nothing but empty white halls.

“What is the last thing you remember, Hannah? After you ended the call with your parents?” He asks and once again I notice the striking blue of his eyes.

“Nothing, I just we-- hold on. How do you know about that?” I frown, my heart picking up its pace.

“Because I’m your cupid, like I’ve been telling you.” He sighs, as if it’s the most basic piece of information to provide someone, and I’m the one being difficult right now.

Or he is just a character in your dream inside your head, Hannah. Technically a part of your twisted brain.

Alright. Rule number two: When stuck in a dream and one of the characters you subconsciously created is not behaving the way you thought your brain would actually make them, just play along.

“What are you doing in my dream then, Cupid?” I swallow another giggle.

“You can just call me Jack, and I’m here to make your wish come true.” He smiles so damn adorbaly that I have to stop myself from giving him a bone-crushing hug and showering him with baby kisses, then taking a picture and showing how adorable he looks to everyone I know. Because that would be weird, even for my unusual dreaming subconscious.

“Wait, what wish?” Raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, I think aloud.

“Remember, before you went to sleep, you wished for someone to show you your future husband, correct? Well, that’s why I’m here.” He grins, flashing me blind momentarily with his extra white teeth.

“No, no. Hold on. I didn’t ‘wish’ for anything. I was just wondering. No big deal. No one’s wishes need to come true here, buddy.” I wave off his poor attempts of deceiving me. I’m smarter than I look, and my subconscious is in for one hell of a surprise if it thinks it can fool me so easily.

Okay, so maybe it’s a little harder than I imagined to just play along then. I’m making these rules as I go, though. Sue me.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “too late, anyway, because I’m here to make it all easier for you. Well, actually not really much easier, but whatever.” Mumbling, he motions for me to follow him down the hall.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my footsteps echoing through the hall as I walk after him.

Rule number three: When in a dream with a character showing signs of mental disorders -probably more than one- don’t follow them down a blinding white hall in an abandoned building. Just don’t.

“You said that you wanted someone to take your hand and point at your future husband and tell you that’s him. I’m doing just that.” He explains, and I blink once more, trying to gather my head around this. I fail. When we reach a certain closed door, he holds the knob with another grin. “Hannah, this is your future husband.”

Hold the fuck on, man. Am I truly going to meet my future husband, right now? What kind of dream is this? I’m so cool, even my dreams are awesome. Wait, why am I nervous?

I’ll be damned if my heart isn’t beating like crazy right now, as Jack turns the door’s knob and shoves the door wide open.