A/N: As a reminder, this weird version of Star Trek is based on my life, so there's no telling what will happen because life is unpredictable.
Ode to A Starship by Lina Shay
Chapter Forty-Six: My Life as a Groatcake
"I saw Tyso," I muttered as I sat at home with my parents.
"Who?" Mom asked sweetly.
"Tyso," I re-stated, "the guy who looked at me at the market."
"Oh, the tall, handsome one?" Mom asked excitedly. "You saw him at the temple?"
I nodded.
"Did you throw yourself into his arms?" Dad teased.
"No!" I shot at him in annoyance. "I couldn't do that."
"Why not?" Dad asked.
"Because," I debated. "He should be the forward one."
"You know, I talked to some guys about that," Mom announced. "Let me see, how was it explained to me? Let's say you were at a buffet, and there was only one piece of groatcake left. You wouldn't just run up and grab it, especially if you saw others who looked like they wanted it."
"Now I'm a groatcake?" I feigned offense.
"Just listen," Mom insisted. "Now, let's say the person who made the groatcake came up and expressly offered it to you. You would take it then, right?"
"I guess so," I shrugged.
"It's just easier when it's offered to you, isn't it?" Mom asked.
Before I could answer, Dad chimed in. "And if someone wanted to take the groatcake away from you, you wouldn't just give it up."
"Well, if they really wanted it, I would," I told him.
Mom glared at Dad. "That's why I wasn't going to bring that up."
"How was I to know?" Dad demanded. "I wouldn't give it up if it was my groatcake."
"But, mom," I began, "how can you tell when someone wants the cake?"
"You can't really," Mom shrugged.
"So you want me to run around offering my groatcake to everyone?" I exclaimed. "You want me to go up to every guy and say, 'Want some cake?'"
"Yes," Dad put in. "What's wrong with that?"
"What if they don't want the cake?" I asked desperately. "What if they don't like the cake? What if they say, 'Yuck, I don't want that awfulcake.'"
"That's just the chance you take, I guess," Mom muttered.
This conversation was frustrating. It just made me dislike men more. Why couldn't people just say what they mean and feel? Why did dating always have to involve such games? I knew the reason, because it was why dating was so hard for me. It was fear, pure and simple. No one wants to put their groatcake on the line only to have it thrown back in their face.
A/N: This was an actual conversation I had with my parents. Just replace groatcake with peanutbutter cookie.