flurt forever (and ever)

Dear Flurt (on 3rd Avenue and 22nd St, NYC):

I didn't think I could survive the 4 months in Prague without you just down the block, at my beck and call. And boy, did I beck and call. Every week, you served as the charming locale for study sessions, dates, post-work out indulgences, post-shopping celebrations, and the list continues. You were always there for me when I needed you.

Pretty soon, we became more than just-friends. I was demanding in the beginning, but that's only because I had been jaded and tricked for so long by a no-good company called Pinkberry, who had me consuming artificial additives. My rebound, Red Mango, treated me better (with real, all-natural yogurt), but the next morning, I still felt unsatisfied and empty.

When we met, I was clearly damaged goods, suspicious and unbelieving of the real deal. I was wary of your premium frozen yogurt, fresh fruit, and reliable service. I had been lied to and dragged along before, so I didn't trust my feelings. But you proved me wrong. And you left me speechless.

You were exactly what I was looking for, tangy and sweet, all-natural and fresh. And when I finally accepted it, I quickly became addicted to you like bargain shoppers to eBay, like athletes to steroids, and teenage girls to the Twilight series. Make that the general population to the Twilight Series. (Like Edward to Bella and Bella to Edward combined. Yes, it's true.)

Our long-distance relationship was difficult, but I was faithful. I didn't have a single bite of fro-yo in Europe, I promise. It just didn't feel right. Sometimes my friends say it's not healthy, my complete unwavering obsession with you. But what do they know, bouncing from one fro-yo place to another? (They have no shame.) You haven't disappointed me yet, you're so good to me. I'm so lucky to have met you. Flurt... I think I love you.

(photos via yelp)