Every girl in the world needs to read this.
And no, I didn’t fall in a hole. Apparently, there’s nothing worth posting when I’m not at school, but I’m going back on Saturday so regular programming should commence fairly soon after.
A friend of mine had this as her AIM away message a few years ago, and we ended up having an interesting discussion about the quote. She insisted that she was one of those increasingly self-conscious, lonely, yet amazing apples at the top of the tree.
I agreed with her. She was definitely one of the special, perfect apples sitting at the very top of the tree. But, I felt that I had to defend the other character in the analogy: the boy who wasn’t brave enough to climb the tree.
So, I went on to explain to my friend that there are definitely boys out there that don’t like rotten apples. Rotten apples taste bad, are more trouble than they’re worth, and there’s a good chance they’ll give you chlamydia. But just because boys who avoid rotten apples don’t always end up with the shiny, delicious apples at the top doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not brave. Sometime that same boy throws caution to the wind and climbs the tree to the very top, only to find that the apple just won’t budge. He spends days, weeks, months, even years trying to pick the apple. He pulls and pulls, trying to coax the apple loose. The boy brings up how the apple always said how perfect an apple-picker he would be, and how he always treated and understood the apple better than anyone else.
The apple’s withholding doesn’t make any sense to the boy, but he keeps trying anyway. Until one day, there’s some rustling underneath the tree. The boy looks down, and he sees some asshole down below on a motorcycle. The asshole revs his engine over and over and over, and while the boy is looking down and shaking his head at the idiot in the leather jacket, the apple dislodges and falls into the d-bag’s lap. The jagoffpicks up the apple, takes a couple of bites, tosses her aside and rides away. The boy rushes down the tree, and takes the apple back up to the top. He listens intently while the apple cries and complains about how men are such insensitive pricks. He ignores the fact that technically he’s being insulted, and he makes the apple laugh and feel better about herself and reassures her that she’s still the most beautiful apple in the orchard. The apple calls the boy a great friend. The best friend she’s ever had.
By now, the boy thinks that there’s no way the apple will reject him again. How could she, right? But the process repeats itself over and over again until the boy has had enough and moves on to a different apple. This causes the original apple to become angry with the boy, and she calls him a jerk. The entire ordeal makes the boy wonder if he’d be better off going after bananas instead.
The moral of the story?
If you’re an apple, pay attention to that poor boy that’s waiting patiently for you to come to your senses. He’ll treat you better than that douchebag that cares more about his hair and his Mustang than apples. If you’re a boy and your apple doesn’t see the irony in calling you the perfect guy and then rejecting you for an endless parade ofassclowns, go find yourself another apple that doesn’t have applesauce for brains.
End note: No offense, ladies. I love you all. I’m one of the good apple-pickers, I promise.
(via: missjayne:seriouslythough)
