Passion is mistaken for hate, loathing dissolves into lust, enemies morph into lovers — these are tropes reserved solely for fantasy novels, ineffectual and unattainable in the real world. Or, at least, that’s what I thought, until I received an email saying that the seller on eBay had accepted my counteroffer.
I never thought this would happen to me. My greatest rival…now, my greatest love?
Looking back, I should’ve seen it coming — we were at each other’s throats from the moment I sent a counteroffer of $15 after seeing their listed price of $30 for a pre-owned pair of jorts.
We were like fire and ice. My gut told me that they really wanted $30 for those jorts because of the way they listed them for $30. And I’m certain that some small part of them knew that I thought $30 was slightly too high for those jorts based on the way I offered to pay $15 instead. See? Even then we were speaking a language all our own.
However, me, being blinded by our differences, thought: “This person could be my arch nemesis,” even as my heart screamed at me that they were my twin flame.
The tension after sending that counteroffer was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I could practically feel the fiery passion emanating from the prolonged unresponsiveness on their end of the computer. Let me tell you: Those 47 minutes I spent anxiously awaiting their response felt like standing naked on the edge of a cliff during a raging thunderstorm. God, it was electric.
But that feeling was nothing compared to what it felt like when they finally responded. Because when I got that little email notification? That’s when hell really broke loose.
In an instant, we went from being at each other’s throats (electronically haggling over the price of jorts) to jumping each other’s bones (mutually agreeing upon $15).
My nerves were shot – I couldn’t tell if I wanted to rip their throat out or rip off their clothes! Or maybe even do something in between, like buy a pair of used denim cut-offs from them. Basically, what I’m saying is, life had never felt so full of possibility and so full of uncertainty as it did at that moment.
As for what happens next? That, I’m not actually sure. My fantasy books usually end immediately after the enemies realize that their violent disdain for each other was really just a latent desire to kiss.
I suppose all I can do is submit an insultingly low counteroffer on their vintage 1991 Giants’ Super Bowl t-shirt, brace myself for the inevitable fallout that occurs when two supernovas collide, and hope they’re not, like, actually into sports. That would be kind of a deal-breaker.
