dating chronicles 4: another senseless spelunking tragedy

We were deep in the cave, moisture and the creeping fear of unseen filth on every surface. It was darkness so deep you could never get used to it, not unless you were, you know, gollum. Except for the occasional twinkle of phosphorescence in the wake of our boots as we sloshed ahead, pushing back the rising sense of danger in our throats. Had there been a warning sign of some kind posted at the entrance? We could no longer remember.

We were marvelling at the guano when the water came rushing in. It all happened so fast! I lost my footing and began to drift. The last time I laid eyes on The Date, he was hooked on a stalactite. He looked at me and tried to yell something encouraging (I think it was, "You're a wonderful person. Really.") but the water closed over his pretty head.

Later, as I mourned with some yerba matte and heart-shaped sugar cookies, I realized how little I really knew about him. But I would always be grateful for the spiritual awakening that our week together brought. And the Rodin book, the dried mangoes, and the hickey. I hope he's looking down from his celestial home with those ridiculously sleepy eyes and watching over my continuing cougar adventures.

And... done.