Leaver Puns

I think I might leaver.

But then I saw bergkase.

Now I'm a brie-leaver.

I hadn't put my own picture up on my dating profile, just a picture of my pickup. But that's okay, because she'd just put a picture of her dog. I sent her a message, something almost-clever like "your dog can ride in my pickup any time," and she responded.

We clicked pretty quickly, and started chatting regularly. Every day, sometimes throughout the day. Slowly we learned more about each other. Her dog's name was Daisy. My truck's name was Dodge Ram (I apologized for my lack of creativity). She was a CPA. I was a beekeeper.

And at this, she stumbled. "If we ever meet in real-life, I want you to know that I could never date a beekeeper." But we were still far away from that point, so it was moot.

But time went on, and we gradually became closer to that point. More personal information. What firm she worked for. Where my farm was. Names of relatives. Names of high schools. All the things that just come up in conversation eventually if you talk to someone long enough.

But, oddly, after all this time, neither of us had thought to send any pictures. Until one day I got a message from her: "I never thought I'd say this, but I really do want to meet you in person. I think we have a rare connection, and I don't want to squander it. I want to send you my picture, and I want you to send me yours, but I'm telling you, I can never date a beekeeper."

I couldn't imagine a life without my bees. But I also couldn't imagine a life without her. Tentatively, reluctantly, I clicked on the image attached to her message.

Then I saw her face. Now I'm a bee leaver.

Now I'm a bee leaver.

Then I saw her face. Now I'm a bee leaver.

I was raised homeschooled. As a result of this up bringing, I went to many different places to learn things.

One day we went to a farm, and this farm just so happened to have a bee keeper working on it. So I naturally struck up a conversation with the fine man, asking him questions about what he did, and how he liked his job.

Little did I know some time had passed and it was time to go. My mother had called to me from behind my back saying it was time to leave, but I didn’t pay her any attention. Then, in a stern tone, she called to me again from behind that it was time to go.

Then I saw her face, now I’m a bee leaver. Not a trace, of doubt in my mind.

I got fired from my job at the apiary because I spaced out and walked away from the hives.

I was a day dream bee-leaver