Fiction - Alone Pt. I - Pretty or Beautiful?
"Everyone's idea of beauty varies. It's in the 'eye of the beholder'."
"Wrong. Pretty is in the 'eye of the beholder'. Beauty is in the soul. You can't see it, but you know it when you feel it..."
--
In the shadows, he sits alone. The drink, slowly sipped, is moist and wet.
If he were to raise his head, and smile at the blonde across the bar, she would come talk to him. So would the brunette sitting next to her.
But he doesn't smile. He barely has the energy to drown his sorrow.
Because an unusual thing happened three weeks ago.
He met a girl.
--
His broad smile, stylish looks and boyish charm always got him whatever he wanted. And all he's ever wanted was pussy. Most women were shocked to find out that he's in his mid-30's. He could easily pass for mid-20's. He knows how he looks, and he uses it.
It's how he gets laid.
He knows the bars where the single, lonely women go. He knows the bartenders who make the good drinks. And he knows what he needs to say, to get even the most prudish of women to spread their legs for him.
He used to twinge, in the morning, when they stuck around. When they wanted to "talk". Often, he'd have to explain that it was a one-night stand. They didn't get it until they realized he didn't know or remember their name.
And that he didn't care.
Three weeks ago, he was walking along Broadway, when he saw her, shopping in one of his favorite stores. Long, thick curly brown hair caressed her supple body.
He was intrigued. He walked inside, and came up with a line to gauge her interest. Her snappy reply indicated both curiousity and contempt.
He was immediately intoxicated with her. He didn't know why, but didn't give it much thought at first. The blue eyes? The swaying hips? The swelling breasts?
It wasn't until 3 or 4 days later, while sitting in his office, that he realized it was none of that. Oh, she was stunning, but he wasn't just attracted to her looks. It was her personality. It was the way she made him laugh. The way her comebacks were sassy, sexy and mystifying. She was a mystery; brilliant and wise, but down-to-earth in a way that he had never seen.
She wasn't pretty, she was beautiful.
She was a "10".
The very notion floored him. When was the last time he had a relationship that was based on something other than sex? Med school or undergrad, maybe?
How long had it been, since he actually cared about someone besides himself?
Realizing the happiness of just being with someone, his heart beat furiously. And for the first time in a long while, he smiled.
--
It didn't take long, for the joy to be confronted by shadow. A little over two weeks passed as the darkness grew. His heart, awakened for the first time in almost-forever, screamed for him to set aside his petty reasons and selfish behavior; to let go of his need for purely physical contact with multiple females, and to embrace this woman who had reminded him what it was like to be selfless, instead of selfish.
How very contrary to his nature; how very much unlike him.
The crisis grew. A decision had to be made. Should he cast aside the long-embraced shallowness of his youth, and let this woman into his life?
The answer came easily and readily.
Which made him feel even worse.
--
She wept, and begged. She knew a manufactured fight when she saw it. She knew he was trying to push her away, she knew, she KNEW he was better than this.
He knew he was better than this. The conflict between his lust and his emotions pushed him over the edge. It enraged him to the point where he said horrible things to her. Screamed at her to "get out" of his life.
His heart, furious beyond belief, turned away from him in disgust. His soul shattered into a million pieces, never to be put back together again.
She ran from him, swearing off men forever.
And he sat down dumbly, his mind in a state of shock.
He had done what was right.
Hadn't he?
--
He looked over at the two girls in the bar. They were pretty; very, very pretty. Women like that only came here to drink, or find a cute guy for the night. They brunette and the blonde glanced his way again. He knew that look. Combined with their heavy make-up, over-done hair, and fake tits, he didn't need any other signals.
He could have them both, if he wanted.
He looked inside himself, hoping his heart would advise, but emptiness was the response. He turned to his soul, begging for help, but the piece lay like shards; broken and fractured.
He opened his eyes, and looked back at them. The blonde curled her hair in her fingers. They wouldn't wait for long.
And so he made his choice.
-- Accompanying Music : Rickie Jones, "I'll Be Seeing You"
-- The Unhappy Bastard
"Wrong. Pretty is in the 'eye of the beholder'. Beauty is in the soul. You can't see it, but you know it when you feel it..."
--
In the shadows, he sits alone. The drink, slowly sipped, is moist and wet.
If he were to raise his head, and smile at the blonde across the bar, she would come talk to him. So would the brunette sitting next to her.
But he doesn't smile. He barely has the energy to drown his sorrow.
Because an unusual thing happened three weeks ago.
He met a girl.
--
His broad smile, stylish looks and boyish charm always got him whatever he wanted. And all he's ever wanted was pussy. Most women were shocked to find out that he's in his mid-30's. He could easily pass for mid-20's. He knows how he looks, and he uses it.
It's how he gets laid.
He knows the bars where the single, lonely women go. He knows the bartenders who make the good drinks. And he knows what he needs to say, to get even the most prudish of women to spread their legs for him.
He used to twinge, in the morning, when they stuck around. When they wanted to "talk". Often, he'd have to explain that it was a one-night stand. They didn't get it until they realized he didn't know or remember their name.
And that he didn't care.
Three weeks ago, he was walking along Broadway, when he saw her, shopping in one of his favorite stores. Long, thick curly brown hair caressed her supple body.
He was intrigued. He walked inside, and came up with a line to gauge her interest. Her snappy reply indicated both curiousity and contempt.
He was immediately intoxicated with her. He didn't know why, but didn't give it much thought at first. The blue eyes? The swaying hips? The swelling breasts?
It wasn't until 3 or 4 days later, while sitting in his office, that he realized it was none of that. Oh, she was stunning, but he wasn't just attracted to her looks. It was her personality. It was the way she made him laugh. The way her comebacks were sassy, sexy and mystifying. She was a mystery; brilliant and wise, but down-to-earth in a way that he had never seen.
She wasn't pretty, she was beautiful.
She was a "10".
The very notion floored him. When was the last time he had a relationship that was based on something other than sex? Med school or undergrad, maybe?
How long had it been, since he actually cared about someone besides himself?
Realizing the happiness of just being with someone, his heart beat furiously. And for the first time in a long while, he smiled.
--
It didn't take long, for the joy to be confronted by shadow. A little over two weeks passed as the darkness grew. His heart, awakened for the first time in almost-forever, screamed for him to set aside his petty reasons and selfish behavior; to let go of his need for purely physical contact with multiple females, and to embrace this woman who had reminded him what it was like to be selfless, instead of selfish.
How very contrary to his nature; how very much unlike him.
The crisis grew. A decision had to be made. Should he cast aside the long-embraced shallowness of his youth, and let this woman into his life?
The answer came easily and readily.
Which made him feel even worse.
--
She wept, and begged. She knew a manufactured fight when she saw it. She knew he was trying to push her away, she knew, she KNEW he was better than this.
He knew he was better than this. The conflict between his lust and his emotions pushed him over the edge. It enraged him to the point where he said horrible things to her. Screamed at her to "get out" of his life.
His heart, furious beyond belief, turned away from him in disgust. His soul shattered into a million pieces, never to be put back together again.
She ran from him, swearing off men forever.
And he sat down dumbly, his mind in a state of shock.
He had done what was right.
Hadn't he?
--
He looked over at the two girls in the bar. They were pretty; very, very pretty. Women like that only came here to drink, or find a cute guy for the night. They brunette and the blonde glanced his way again. He knew that look. Combined with their heavy make-up, over-done hair, and fake tits, he didn't need any other signals.
He could have them both, if he wanted.
He looked inside himself, hoping his heart would advise, but emptiness was the response. He turned to his soul, begging for help, but the piece lay like shards; broken and fractured.
He opened his eyes, and looked back at them. The blonde curled her hair in her fingers. They wouldn't wait for long.
And so he made his choice.
-- Accompanying Music : Rickie Jones, "I'll Be Seeing You"
-- The Unhappy Bastard
posted by The Bastard at 12:36 PM
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