Men (and women) have you ever seen a member of the opposite sex that just absolutely stunned you by their looks, the way they moved, their very presence in a room, the way their cloths hung on them and even the way they walked? Have you ever just had to meet that person to the extent that you followed them around, looking for an opportunity just to talk to them, to listen to their voice, to get close enough to smell their perfume, almost afraid to let them out of your sight?
I had that happen in a lounge this evening. No, not a Bar but a lounge, with music you could listen to without your teeth rattling their fillings out, no sawdust on the floor, no strippers on a stage, but a place with little tables and quiet booths with candles, soft lights and pleasant murmurs of conversation.
A vision of absolute feminine beauty drifted through the door and my eyes locked on her like the radar on a guided missile. She was around 5 feet tall, not plump and not rail thin, with small, petite hands and feet, great legs, an hour glass shape, impressive but not flashy breasts, and long, glossy jet black hair enfolding her heart shaped face in which resided a set of large, lovely almond shaped eyes, exotic, yet gentle, calm yet exciting, beautifully arched eyebrows, full lips and a pert nose. She was Hispanic, I believe, dressed all in black, wearing a genuine skirt!
I had to get to know her and I’m not good at just going up to people anywhere and starting conversations, so I watched her glide across the floor, admiring her smooth skin, her painted fingernails, the absence of a wedding ring, the slight smile on her red, red and oh-so-soft looking and kissable lips, to the bar.
I watched her as she spoke to a few interested men who, like slavering dogs in heat promptly slithered up and drooled all over her, with flashy, arrogant, confident smiles showing laser treated white teeth and stripping her to the buff with their sleazy bedroom eyes, eager for a one night stand, all athletic from their home workout machines and looking like money.
I harbored thoughts of taking pruning shears and cutting off their testicles.
She smiled and was pleasant and delightfully flipped her glossy and probably sweet smelling hair playfully about and brushed them all off. My grin, in the darkness of my booth, directed towards the failed studs, was decidedly wolfish.
She was just so beautiful! My hands sweated and my gut churned with the desire to get to know her and, I changed booths to get closer to her. Man! She sat a fine bar stool, pretty legs daintily crossed, the very swell of her hips and backside just crying out to be petted and touched.
Every time some guy wandered by, I bared my teeth like a dog protecting his property, instantly disliking the clod, instantly knowing that he was not good enough for her and fearing that she might get sucked into his lines. I watched enough flashy smiles to wonder what a well place brick would do to them.
(Excuse me whilst I wax poetic, for I’ve had a touch of fine ale.)
After downing enough of the golden elixir of the brewers art, I summoned up the courage to make a strategic dash for the bar and claimed a seat one down from her and realized that she smelled of gentle, flowery perfume and the lines of her face were hurtingly lovely, the skin smooth and soft looking, her hands beautiful and delicate, the swell of her breasts pert and wonderful.
She was listening politely to another guy between me and her attempting to hook her on some tired old line and I resisted the impulse to thump him on the back of the head with my bar stool. I thought I observed an early bald spot showing through his styled hair and, perhaps, flakes of dandruff. Was there dye in that thinning hair of his?
Then, those magnificent lips of hers opened and I actually tingled, knowing I was going to hear her beautiful voice, and she spoke, flashing beautifully white teeth.
My heart hit the floor! My jaw dropped and I almost spilled my beer. I reeled in my heart and listened in disbelief to her talk in a husky, somewhat rough voice, spacing the words out so slowly that I changed my idea of her being intelligent and when the heavy street accent emerged, I dropped the dreams of her being classy.
She sounded about as dumb as a stump, like she’d be more at home swilling out of a 40 ounce while wearing skin tight jeans, teasing the Chicanos by waving her ass and gushing over low riders in-between screaming at her neighbors in the tenement house.
I left my beer where it was and fled, so disillusioned that I could hardly stand it.
It was like getting a date with Julia Roberts only to discover she is actually a redneck!
Any of you ever had this experience (probably not as complicated) where you just absolutely had to meet that incredibly wonderful person only to find that they’re as stupid as a brick, as nasty as a snake or have a voice that just had to belong to someone else because the sound doesn’t match the body at all?
Devastating, what?
Sobered me right up. Now I have to go and get blitzed again.
Gee, if only she had something resembling a brain, an education and knew how to talk something besides street English.