An Interview with a Chloe: A Brief Introduction to a “Chloe Story”
“He’s really a DILF,” Chloe said this afternoon.
“A DILF?” We all repeated.
“Yeah, you know, a Dad I’d like to --” Chloe explained. But who needs to be explained that?
Chloe is my darling room mate and we’re soul mates. When my parents called me at the beginning of the year and asked how the rooming situation was, I told them I’d met my soul mate and we were going up with Liz to Massachusetts to get married. My Dad laughed.
Then three months later, when my family came out for my birthday, they met Chloe. The first thing my dad said was, “Are you the girl that is marrying my daughter?”
Chloe let that process for a second and then replied, “Yes. Yes I am.”
My Dad looked to my brothers, (ages 12 and 14) and said, “Boys, meet your sister’s wife.”
And that’s the Chloe and me.
Chloe is a fantastic person. She’s a physics/math double major, can eat 1600 calories worth of ice cream in twenty-four hours (not to mention how efficiently her and I solely can down a Gingerbread Man Chocolate Brownie dessert of deliciousness), and makes one hell of a townie, but she has one main problem. Her stories suck.
I don’t mean suck like, “Guys today I saw a rock,” boring suck, but suck as in she just can’t tell them. She could run into Dave Grohl, he could instantly fall in love with her, sweep her off her feet and fly her to the Caribbean for two weeks, and then propose to her; but the story would just be told in a way where we’d all be completely unresponsive because of its lack of excitement. Not even, “And then I found 5 dollars and punched him in the face” can remedy her problem.
This story infamy has gotten widespread throughout the Gettysburg College Campus. Chloe doesn’t even have to be around; if you tell a story and it’s bad, people will comment, “Well that was a Chloe story." This trend has now spread from the Gettysburg College Campus to the University of Maryland, thanks to the group we went to the Terps' football game with this afternoon.
The story of the Chloe story within itself, is a Chloe story.
Chloe blames her family and her high school friends for this ailment. They’ve lived with her for her whole life, and never have told her about this impairment. When questioned, her mom replied, “Actually, Chloe, no one ever actually listens to your stories, so we wouldn’t really know.”
However, this impediment is being corrected. Friends around campus are forcing the Chloe to re-tell her stories when they suck. Slowly but surely, step-by-step, detail by detail, her stories are showing definite improvement.
The moral of this is please, if Chloe tells a sub-par story, help her out. And if someone tells a bad story, call it a Chloe story.