Back to the mirror. Tucked shirt,pressed pants. He turns around, making sure his freshly-grown abs are showing - they are. He closes his eyes,imagining what it would be like - to date again. He crosses his fingers,sprays his Paco Rabanne and leaves the room. Just as he is about to leave the house, he takes a second glance at himself in the mirror by the door; he admires his newly-done eyebrows. Close up,his admiration drops to a doubt. But it's too late - he thinks to himself, I wanted to get them done, and I did.
Ten years ago when he was first contemplating the idea, he was actually repulsed by it. I have yet more to discover about myself ,his subconscious would tell him.But in the light of day, he had to convince himself that he is all figured out.
Driving his car, he listens to the romantic songs on his ipod. One song after the other ; one tear after another. I can't relate to any of these songs. I have experienced love before, just not the type they seem to be singing about.
He closes his eyes for a second, just to push the negative thoughts back in his head. Tonight is a good night because I'm going to meet the one person who in a very long time has made me feel really good about myself.
He steps into the downtown bar. Loud. Hot. Crowded. He sees a sea of faces - male faces. He takes another quick look until his eyes finally meet his date's. They exchange smiles. He walks downstairs, walks up to him and the moment he shakes his hands he knows he is wrong. Again.
No comments:
Post a Comment