It was you and John's (choose how long) year anniversary! You always went big for these type of things, and so you spent all night doodling a picture of you and him in your own little quirky style.

It was late, and you hadn't seen him all day because of school, and so after watching his performance with The Quarrymen, you went backstage excitedly to give him a kiss and the drawing. But after pushing through some other girls and boys and finally finding John, you saw him practically eating another blond lass' face off, making out with her roughly, his hands gripping her hips tightly and his face right in her own, just like he'd do with you.

Your heart dropped. She was prettier than you. Sexier. She had cool makeup and a mature leather jacket. And she was blond. Oh how John loved blonds. And you weren't a blond. No, you were a brunette.

You didn't know what to do.