First, I’m going to find out what she’s like. I’m gonna spend time with her, or around her since I actually don’t know her. What food does she like, white or red wine, does she like fashion, music - what kind of music? Is she into sports and if so, which sport. If not, why? When she walks like that, with her face slightly smiling, eyes browsing the world - what is she thinking about? What’s the thing with that little tin box she carries around in her purse? Why doesn’t she get of on the right station on her way to work? Does she like to walk or is it only about exercise? She speaks with a quiet voice - why? Why, why, why. I want all the answers.
Once I know this I’m going to change. I’m going to cut my hair. Dress differently. I’ll stop drinking and only eat carrots. My car has to go. Can I buy a bike instead? Switch career. Mountain biking has never been my thing, but I bought one today. Birds and an aquarium. I’ll talk differently and learn french too. I’ll start going to museums. Buy art. I’ll start a foundation that saves whales. I’ll do everything that needs to be done - for her.
She won’t see me at first since I’m afraid of scaring her away. I’m in it for the long run. But sooner or later she’ll wonder who that guy is who always eats the ecological pasta in her favorite restaurant. Once she’s spotted me I’m going to say hi. Speak to her. We’ll talk about food, fashion, music, sport, cars and especially tin boxes.
She’s falling in love. I can feel it. That man on her favorite restaurant is her perfect match. She’ll make sure to be there on the same time every week. And I am there every week too. We talk more.
Would you like to go to the movies one night?
Yes. She says.
We go. We walk together. She’s smiling like always. I’m smiling too. We talk. We see a movie we both like.
I love you she says.
I love you.
Years go by. I find myself forgetting what she looks like. She doesn’t walk and smile anymore. I can’t remember what she likes to eat. Her voice is everything but quiet. My hair has grown out again.
We divorce.
Later I find out that she is in a new relation with a new man. He does everything that I don’t do for her. And I also learn that she’s not like before.
She changed.
I didn’t
We drifted apart just like brands drift apart from their target group, their behavior, what they enjoy, what kind of references in life they have. How and where they consume communication.
Brands, like people, seem to think change is hard. Its not. Just do something today that you haven’t done before. If you fail, try tomorrow again.
Don’t drift apart. Change.

Two butterflies were in love…….. .
One day, they decided to play Hide n Seek…….
During the play…..
Boy Butterfly - “A small game within us”
Girl Butterfly - “OK”
Boy Butterfly - “The one who sits in this flower tomorrow early in
the morning….. That one loves the other one more…..”
Girl Butterfly - “OK”
Next morning, the boy butterfly waits for the flower to open so that
he can sit before the girl butterfly does……
Finally, the flower opened…..
What did he see…..???? ?……..
The girl butterfly had died inside the flower…..
She stayed there all night……so that early in the morning….. .as
soon as she sees him…….she can fly to him and tell him how much she
loved him……..
This is true LOVE….
Life is LOVE……

After the wigs there was the health-food store. Patsy carried the smell of spice like a well-loved winter scarf; she moved in and out of the aisles, laying figs beside dates, straightening packs, stroking the neat lines of the shelves. I could never stay in the shop for long; my nose would refuse to breathe the cloying air.
 `I’ve decided to go in for aromatherapy,’ she announced one day. I’ll practice on Kevin, he likes having his chest rubbed.’ Kevin was the man of the moment; Patsy didn’t like men to get the idea that they could get their feet under her table. The minute they turned up uninvited, she swiftly sent them on their way. Since she’d left her husband she hadn’t had a relationship that lasted more than six weeks, and the kids had never seen a man in her bed – she did all the sex stuff at mine, before she went home.
 `You have to know how to use it,’ I said.
 `What?’
 `Aromatherapy - you can’t just slap it on people, it’s dangerous.’
 `I know that. I’ll get a book.’
 `Somebody I know let a friend practice on her - she ended up so relaxed she was almost paralyzed. She couldn’t move for days.’
 `I’ll get a book I said. It tells you all about it in the introduction, I was reading one today. I’ve told Kevin he’s getting a full body massage tonight.’

I hadn't been this angry in a very, very long time. Yes, it was my fault that things were awkward between us, and yes, it was my fault that things weren't getting any better between us.
But, seriously! I didn't mean what I'd said. Or, did I? That was exactly what was eating away at me. Although it had been a week since what I had mentally dubbed 'the incident' had happened, every time I thought about it it turned my stomach as if had just happened.
"I really like her, Stacey." he had said to me. "I kissed her tonight."
"You did... what? But... why? I mean, we're supposed to be together... I love you!"
Now, in my defense, there had been quite a bit of alcohol in my system. At the time it had seemed like a reasonably good idea, telling my best friend of almost six years that I had secretly been pining for him the last nine months. What was the harm in that? After an awkward pause and a sudden departure on his part, and a sudden sobering up and realization on my part, it occurred to me that I'd probably screwed things up with Cameron for a long, long time.

It amazes me how quickly things change.  When you think about all the things our parents had to live with, and their parents, it's almost unbelievable.  For instance, I worked on the moon for two years when I graduated college.  The helium mines that I helped build freed the world from the energy crisis.  My parents drove an old gas burning car.  Cities still had those black electrical wires crisscrossing every intersection on wooden poles and connected to every house.  I don't even think my grandfather went to college, but he's still a wise old guy.  I visit him every other weekend in the facility and listen to his stories about the old days.  I want to say he's gotten kind of belligerent in his old age, but somehow, I think he's always been that way. 

Did you go to college grand dad? I don't think you ever told me.

"You wouldn't remember your pecker if it wasn't buttoned to your rear end."
He's really a sweet old guy.  I swear. 

"Did you bring me my smokes?"
No, you know they don't sell tobacco any more.  Not for years.

"Ahhh!  I've been burning them down since I was eight years old.  I smoked more bowls than Cheech and Chong, and Dr. Drew put together."
You're thinking of marijuana grand dad.  They don't sell that either now.

"Hell yes I went to college.  Junior college, for eight years.  Never graduated though.  That was when I started my band.  I had a Mohawk out to here, and more metal in my face than you got in that thing you call a car.  You see these holes all the way up my ear, and in my nose here?"

They don't call them cars any grander dad.  And there's no metal in them at all.
"How do you expect to pull any honeys in that thing?  I had a Ford Fairmont as big as your whole house slammed so low it scraped the asphalt.  Boy, I used to hit it like... uh, I used to...  what was I talking about sonny?"