Relatively Safe Liaisons

Never in all my years did I expect a development like this to happen.  If you had told me just a month ago that I would be spending my evening preparing myself for a date with one of my closest friends, I would have scoffed and assumed you to be grossly presumptuous.  Oh, but dear reader, life has a humorous way of dealing yours truly some very precarious cards.  Oh dear, I don’t much like the prose of this, does it seem a bit pretentious, cliched-I don’t know, something along that line.  I’m not sure, I’m not a professional writer, my art belongs in fashion.  Oh, dear and now I’ve found myself off-topic.  Um-where were we?

Oh, yes, I have a date tonight; with a dear friend of mine.

What’s that? Spike? You think it’s Spike? I would write out a guffaw, but that wouldn’t properly showcase my amusement at your presumption.  (I’ve used “presumption” twice now. Note to Rarity: get a thesaurus)

Very well, I will entertain your notion.  For the record, I do care about my wittle Spikey-Wikey dearly, I’m afraid I do not fancy him in such a light.  Also, dragons are rather disgusting when you think about it.  Oh dear sweet Celestia, did I just write that?  My goodness, I sound like a complete racist.  (Or species...ist.....um, what were we talking about?)

Yes, yes I have a date; with a close friend of mine.

“But wait, Rarity” I hear you say.  “If it isn’t Spike.....and it’s one of your close friends....you’re going out with a...LE GASP! A mare!”

Yes, yes, shocking.  Your entire perception of me must be turned absolutely upside down!

It’s not?  You’re not shocked? Appalled? Ecstatic? Any kind of sudden emotional reaction?

What do you mean you aren’t shocked?

It’s me! Rarity! Girliest diva-ish fashionista in all of Equestria! You should be expecting me to chase the stallion of my dreams!

Oh, you on the “internet” only “ship” me with Spike and my friends, so this doesn’t come as a shock to you?  Well, moving on...

Yes, in the past, I had aspirations of giving the brutish Prince Blueblood my hoof in marriage, and then the Grand Galloping Gala happened.  Needless to say, I quickly discarded said aspirations, and made the world my romantic oyster.

Also, before you get any ideas (I know I’ve used presumptuous too much, but that’s exactly what you, yes YOU are), no I did not get completely abandon stallions after that disastrous date (tempting as it was).  To yours truly, gender does not get in the way of finding that special somepony.  I have even made the occasional pass at a stallion or two.  Unfortunately, they were already married (Fancy Pants) or of a different....um persuasion (that strapping pegasus who saved me from falling at the Wonderbolt Academy).

What I’m trying to convey is that somepony like me could become infatuated with just about anypony.

With that said, you’re probably wondering why I would like somepony like Applejack.

You’re not, huh.  Oh well.....WAIT.  Are you not even the teeniest bit shocked at this revelation?  No?  Well that’s simply ludicrous; I mean, Applejack and I have nothing in common, how can you not be surprised by this turn of events?

…....”Rarijack”?  Oh you simply MUST be jesting; that is too silly.  I don’t even know why I had Pinkie destroy this so-called “fourth wall”, it has provided no use to me.  Forget it, I have wasted far too much time beating around the bush with all this petty “meta” nonsense.  I have a story to tell, for Celestia’s sake!  I’m sick of you cretins!!!

Um, disregard that.  So, let me start from the beginning, as is traditional.

So yes, unlike you, I was indeed taken aback by my unexpected infatuation with our dear cowpony in question.  As you probably know, Applejack and I did not always get along.  Let’s face it, I wasn’t very appreciative of her rustic nature, but after the fateful sleepover at Twilight’s house, we became very good friends, and we learned to accept our disparities in personality and lifestyle.

That was not how this little romance of ours begins.  On the contrary, my infatuation began only a few short weeks ago......

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Whenever I am not having vivid dreams of delicious food, I have....other dreams.  In the past, my partner(s) would often be a knight from fairytales, a strapping lumberjack, or, ugh, Bluuuuueblood (excuse me while I vomit).

Vomiting occurs

Anyway, while I have had many partners in my dreams, never did I ever expect one of my dear friends to appear.  My memory of the first dream in question is a tad hazy, but as I recall, I was locked in an embrace with somepony who was extremely toned.  She was holding me tight in her forelegs, and her mane was draped over my shoulder as she bestowed butterfly kisses along my neck.  In my dream, this mystery mare backed away in my ecstasy (I know, such a tease); I opened my eyes to discover a golden mane, an orange coat, and the greenest set of eyes staring back at me.  Applejack gave me a wink, and just like that, the dream ended.

Needless to say, I was incredibly dumbfounded.  Never had I pictured any of my friends like that, let alone Applejack.  After some contemplation, I decided to dismiss that vivid dream as a side effect of the dinner I had the previous night (the last time I ever let Rainbow Dash talk me into having her precious Buckardi with alfalfa salad).

After that, I had no dreams of any romantic sort for at least three nights.  I assumed that the one dream would confine itself to one dream and I went to bed expecting no surprises.  Oh cruel fate, how nothing goes to plan for this poor girl.

In my second dream, the two of us were in a flowery meadow and perched under an oak tree.  I was nuzzling Applejack’s neck and she was gently stroking my stomach.  Applejack then rose from her position and took off her stetson hat.  She gave a warm grin and said, “Here’s a little present for ya, marshmallow.” and she crowned me with her hat.  For some inexplicable reason, in my dream, I just became butter.  I flew up from my spot and charged toward Applejack in a furiously passionate kiss, the stetson hat flying off my head and getting lost in a sea of daisies.  If there’s anything I’m thankful for in life, it’s that Rainbow Dash does not know how to see into people’s dreams.  That mare would never let me hear the end of it if she knew what I was dreaming about.

It only got worse.  Soon, the dreams would become more and more vivid, and the scenarios were becoming less of what you would call “fluff” and more akin to that of your so-called “clop”.  For example, in my fifth dream about Applejack, I was....constricted (if you will) to my bed.  She was looking at me with a predatory smirk and my legs were spread open with everything being exposed. I was panting heavily, having a good idea about what she had planned, and housing a mix of apprehension and excitement.  Applejack licked her lips and then, um -OH DEAR SWEET CELESTIA, WHAT AM I DOING???? HOOVES, STOP IT!!!!!!!

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Due to certain carnal impulses that are beyond my control, I have decided to write the rest of this memoir with my quill taped to my hooves.  Note to all unicorn writers out there: when you write titillating tales using magic to write, always be mindful of your wandering hooves.

Anyway, after that final dream, it became obvious that I could no longer ignore whatever was occurring in my subconscious.  I needed advice from somepony who had years of experience in the psychological sciences and could accurately pinpoint what had caused my brain to wander into such devious domain.

However, that is really expensive.  So I just decided to talk to Pinkie Pie.