Glitter Tales

Ever since I was little I guess I was odd. Not odd in personality, but odd in what I found attractive in girls. Some guys look for big breasts, a nice butt, and a toned body. Well, not me. You see, my name is Jack, and I have a glitter fetish.

I remember it clearly. It was years ago when I realized something was wrong. Maybe it was because I thought all the girls without glitter weren’t attractive. I mean, I don’t know how it started exactly, but I know I’m still affected by it today.

Today I broke up with my girlfriend of four years. I told myself it wasn’t because she stopped wearing the glitter, but deep down I know that that was exactly the reason. To me, Lyn was unattractive without the glitter. Everything I have ever felt for her vanished the moment I saw her this morning without the glitter.

When I saw her I purposefully walked up to her and spoke, “Lyn, I’m sorry, but we have to break up.”

Lyn’s eyes widened and she spoke softly, trying not to cry. “Why Jack, why?”

This may be cliché, but I spoke with all sincerity in my voice, “Lyn, I don’t feel the same way about you anymore.”

Then, I walked away, a small tear forming through my heart.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years. I’m now a Junior in college and have yet to get with another girl besides Lyn. I know there are plenty of beautiful girls here, but I don’t find any of them appealing. If I keep this up I’m going to turn into the 40 year old virgin. As I was pondering this the professor spoke, interrupting my thoughts. “Class, we have a new student, his name is Matthew. Matthew sit by Jack.”

I raised my hand, signaling where I was, then I raised my head and my heart stopped. Matthew was wearing glitter. He had it streaked throughout his hair, it settling on his clothes. When the sun hit him beams shone off, like he was sparkling. That’s when it started, my love for Matthew.

We made small talk at first, getting to know each other. Small talk turned into long conversations which lasted for hours on end. These long conversations turned into romantic dates spent at the park or at the beach. The first night I told him I loved him was when these dates evolved into fevered passionate nights in our now shared dorm room.

After our relationship hit its peak the accident happened. Matthew was walking home one night and a drunk driver crashed into him. He didn’t even notice Matthew crossing the road. They say that he died on impact, that he didn’t feel anything. The day of the funeral I wore a light dusting of glitter, and nobody said a word.