**2016 WATTYS WINNER FOR VISUAL STORYTELLING**
Letting her appearance fall to the wayside and desperate to find a reason for her life, Marilyn sits half naked in an Urgent Care examination room with a mysterious skin itch. If she can survive the hum...
I follow McCutie through the double doors, his thumb tapping the clipboard.
"Did I say your name right?" he asks.
"Almost. Close enough." I look up at him and smile. "Surely somewhere in the world they pronounce my name that way, so technically—somewhere—you got it exactly right." McCutie grins bashfully—a pinkish glow spreading across his stubble-free face.
I wish back in my teens and twenties I was confident around McCuties like I am now. The college years would've been vastly different if I had flirted with boys—or almost-men—or whatever they are at that age. Unfortunately, I was extremely cautious when it came to matters of the heart. I took life—especially the romance part—far too seriously. It was like I believed love was a weapon of mass destruction that needed to be handled with extreme caution and care. In fact, I was so cautious when it came to handling love, I hardly ever touched it at all.
Jump ahead several years later—after a few nuclear disasters of the heart—and here I am. I'm a woman who wishes she could tell her young adult self to lighten up. I'd say, "I know you're convinced being smart and careful will prevent pain from entering your life. Well—it won't. In fact, sheltering yourself from the possibility of pain—or trying to control what can't be controlled—will only create a more excruciating torture called regret—AKA a life unlived."
I'd go on and convince my younger self to not be shy or afraid around McCuties. They're harmless. Easy to talk to. Flattered by the simple efforts of striking up a genuine conversation with them. Not to mention, just as insecure about themselves. I'd also encourage my fragile adolescent ego to look beyond fears of anticipated rejection and go after the things I want, McCuties or otherwise. "Rejection is going to happen whether you like it or not, young padawan—so don't rob yourself of amazing possibilities by dodging potential rejections."
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McCutie and I walk down a hallway seeming to stretch on for—okay, I won't lie—it was maybe only several hundred feet, but I didn't have my walking shoes on. In any case, as we're walking down a long hall I casually ask the adorable assistant, "So where is the pool and spa located?"
"Pardon?" he responds.
"This is La Urgent Care?" I question in an accent no foreign country would ever claim. "You are checking me into my luxury accommodations, I presume?"
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