The Whisk of Love

The tastefully wrapped Xmas gift that had, on a whim, accompanied her on the Saturday morning blind coffee date at the Bridge Street Deli now sat complacently on her kitchen counter. The gift box contained a scalp massager, which could be used to decompress after a long, stressful work day. It looked a lot like a normal kitchen whisk, except that the bottom was open-ended. When a person used the scalp whisk on someone else’s head, the results were amazing. It was a life-saver. The whisk even had romantic potential, as in get your date nice and relaxed…But Marcia had decided against presenting it to her date at their initial meeting. It was too much, too soon (the story of her life). The way things had been going since that enjoyable first “meet for coffee” date; Brad was NEVER going to get that Xmas prize. Brad was NEVER going to get that Xmas prize because he had already gotten homemade Norwegian butter cookies (norsk smorkranz) AND a cup of whipped-cream-free hot chocolate. And after careful scrutiny (READ: review the DISASTER DATE file), Marcia decided that those two items were sufficient first date booty. After all, what, exactly, had SHE gotten (other than heartache and pain?). And by now (almost 1.5 weeks later), it was obvious to even her that she and Brad were never meant to share cold Wisconsin winter nights together, whisking each other’s scalps. In fact, her dreams of one day becoming a top-producing-scalp-whisk-sales rep had now been dashed. How could she possibly spend her days on Wisconsin back roads, delivering record-setting quantities of scalp whisks to unsuspecting WI residences, when thoughts of “what-might-have-been-with-Brad” would cause her to go skidding out of control on the black ice in her small Civic Hybrid, projectile-launching into a 4-foot snow bank, causing her to sustain additional bruising to her already-black-and-blue heart? He was certainly NOT worth losing her life or even her mental health over.