I remember the first day we met. It was un peu chaotic, with everyone pushing and shoving to get to you. But once our eyes finally locked, something clicked.
I’d never been a huge fro-yo fan myself. I had never understood the hype behind Yogurtland, Twirl or Pinkberry. Yet there was something about you, perhaps your ever-so-convenient location at my school, that separated you from the rest.
I cannot express how much my day improves once I pile berries, chocolate chips and Oreo crumbles onto my go-to vanilla-raspberry swirl. And any guilt I feel for demolishing my sizeable cup in under three minutes is replaced with pride when I notice that my cup is made entirely from compostable material! In other words, not only do you indulge me, Marlbs Fro-Yo Machine, but you make me a better person. (Rachel ’19, 9th-grade VP, I hope you are reading this, so I can win the monthly prize cactus for doing something good for the environment.)
I knew my obsession was serious last Friday afternoon when I caught myself having reverse TGIF, as I realized that I would have to wait until Monday to enjoy another cup of you!
Just as it’s said the only people who drink before nine A.M. are alcoholics, I’m afraid my daily fro-yo runs before advisory and then during break, lunch and my free make me somewhat of a fanatic myself. But if loving you means being an addict, so be it, New Marlborough Fro-Yo Machine!
If I were old enough to go to prom, and if I were somehow allowed to bring a large kitchen appliance as my date, you would be my first choice. Without a doubt.
If you were on a balcony, and your family wouldn’t let you see me because our families were feuding, I would sneak over anyway and throw pebbles at your window to wake you up, and then I would serenade you and read romantic nutrition labels to you.
If you were in a boy band, and you chose to quit to concentrate on your solo career, I would break up with the band, too. I would buy your first record, go to your first solo concert and buy the t-shirt, too.
And, Fro-Yo Machine, it turns out I’m not the only one who’s infatuated with you.
Charlotte Daniels ’19 loves you too and claims you “bring new meaning to the word ‘school.’”
James Elliot Irons ’19 states that while he is lactose intolerant, you are simply too delicious not to eat anyway. That’s right: he is willing to suffer to be with you.
I’m not jealous, though. This thing between you and me: it doesn’t have to be exclusive. I realize monogamy is not in your job description, so I won’t ask you to make fro-yo only for me.
Just promise to never, ever leave.
At least, not till I graduate.
I don’t think I could stand that.
Your greatest admirer,