LOVE LIKE COTTON

"I want love like cotton."

"Cotton? What's gotten into your head now?"

"I want love like cotton. Hypoallergenic, non irritating and durable."

Loud laughter.

"Girl, you have lost your mind! Hey, y'all should come hear this, she wants hypoallergenic love! My god! Wake up honey!"

"I'm not dreaming. I want love like cotton. Love that comforts me like my socks on a cold day, wraps around me like a terrycloth robe at the spa and lets me breathe like my favorite t-shirt. I want love that is strong like my jeans yet absorbs the blood from my wounds like cotton wool."

"Oh. Um..well as sweet as this whole thing you've got going on sounds ---"

"No. I'm not going to let you say that. And I am not going to let you believe it for yourself too. You're going to say that love like that exists for very few people, and it doesn't even last forever"

"Because it is true! This isn't a book or the movies where everything is perfect, and there's wedding bells and great mothers-in-law and sweet babies and all of that shebang! Nearly half the men in our world are lying scum!"

"And how many men have you met? You should let a girl dream, y'know? And if she wants cotton, I want Ankara!"

Slaps, high fives and more laughter.

"Baby, I know you love Love and romance and all of that, but, unless it's Valentine's Day, nobody is serving all of that on a daily. Heck, I can't even get Damini to rub my feet yet."

"So why are you marrying him?"

Awkward pause. Wine glasses meet the lips, subtle eye rolls and flipping of expensive weaves.

"Because I love him? Because I see him and me a lot in my dreams? He's my dream man, right? He's sweet and generous and thoughtful and hawwwtttt!"

Laughter, catcalls and some spontaneous purring.

"So, you love him like lace."

Scoffs. Eye rolls and more sips.

"Girl, you need to stop with this mess you have got going on about fabrics. What are you going to mention next? Satin? Silk? You're ruining this partaaaayyy!"

"Yes, I know. I just do not want my friends to settle for less when there is more. Lace is beautiful, pair it up with some chiffon and tulle and satin and you have got a winner. But you have got to take care of it, you can't wear it anywhere you want, you have got to wash it carefully, it's delicate, you can't stress it too much or it will rip. You may only wear it once or twice, and you definitely cannot wrap it around you when you're cold.

"Cotton lets you sleep, it comforts you, it soothes you. You can pair it with other stuff, and it will always come through. It will become soft from washings and use, but you'll always have it. And you know you won't discard it because it smells like home, like you, and like the man you love. And maybe one day when the time is right, you'll pass it on to someone else."

Silence.

"And I'm sorry for ruining the mood. I'll see you all at the wedding tomorrow."

Receding footsteps.

Head shakes, eye rolls and a bit of vicious gossip.

"She had so much nerve, coming here to spill rubbish about love and fabrics. She should open a fabric shop, imma buy from her. She clearly knows her stuff---"

"What she shouldn't do is ruin bachelorette parties! I know she's your friend and all, but I do not want her in my wedding party."

"Woah. She's our friend, and admittedly she has changed since we last saw her, but you can't say it hasn't been good for her, and us too."

"Whatever. We came here to have one hell of a time, and we are going to! Send in the drinks and bring in the strippers!"

Screams, yells, and catcalls.

The girls twerk and grind and drink and smoke all night long. It is wild, loud and obscene, a night to remember.

The bride sends a text to the groom the next morning.

She loves cotton and lace irritates her.

The End.

Love is hard, but worth it.

And so is cotton.

It goes through a lot to be the wonderful fabric that has awesome versatility and can be spun in a number of ways.

And thus does love appear.