Photo and Consequences

Photo and consequencesThe early fall of my 63rd year of existence on this planet stamped forever in the stream of my consciousness. I was vain about my body. Since I had been bragging about my "magnificent" physique all summer long to a group of new friends, I thought I might as well back up my bragging with a photo of me in a brief. To me, it was like a photo of any male on the beach or around the swimming pool. Lo and behold, a woman who a few weeks prior had proudly sent a photo of hers in a bikini lying on the beach somewhere on the planet, posted a complaint in an insolent, haughty, cavalier, and quite stupid language about my bad taste and indecency , and demanded an instant cessation of my posting such photos in the future! This came from a woman who once blithely disclosed that her password to a certain email account of hers was a vulgarism! After her complaint, I promptly sent an one-word apology to the group and a request to have my name removed from the subscription list. So it looked like I didn't understand women at all. I thought I did, but apparently I did not. Not really. Not at all. Then I began reflecting on my psyche and that of other people including the one upon whom I conferred various pet names. And I arrived at the following verities/observations:1. The romantic world is a stage where the players are actors and dancers par excellence. 2. The more inferior the players, the more ruses they employ to cover up their intrinsic worth or, rather, lack thereof. 3. Trust is a rare commodity. I was played for a fool by Chinko Mixto.4. I was naive and trusting, perhaps too much so, of being accepted for my idiosyncrasies.5. Midget was stupid in thinking I was in need of her. All she had was ego, and not an ounce of love inside. She was insolent, just like Chinko Mixto. Anyway, I took a risk and flunked it, so to speak. But I had to do that to find out whom I was dealing with. I had to push the envelope. I was fearless, and they were fearful of coming across as condoning or, heavens forbid, liking lasciviousness so they had to appear as prude and coy (Quelle fausse pudeur!) Now I decided to go off the map. Now I become invisible. And quiet, too. Like a church mouse. Reader, please don't write back and tell me that I just wrote two sentence fragments. I know what I'm doing, I think. I just met a Southern belle at the poker table and I was blown away by her charms and manners and grace. It was a delightful experience. She was in town for a printers conference. She was a marketing executive of a printing company. She was a mixture of naïveté and worldly sophistication. Her Southern accent was a delight. She was proud of her true age (28 but could easily passed for 19) and showed me her driver's ID to prove her being truthful. She had an unusual last name and she called my attention to that and laughed merrily about that. She had a winsome personality and didn't seem to care if she lost a hand. She was a sharp contrast to the woman in the preceding paragraphs. Her personality won me over and made my day. In addition, I recouped all what I had lost the day before in poker and that helped my mood, too. This encounter cleansed me of the poison I ingested recently and reminded me that I must surround myself with pleasant, nice people. That in turn would make me feel good about life and humans. So with this much improved mood, I walked out of the poker room and into the bright sunshine of the fall. The lovely music of the Oldies helped also. I was struck as to why humans came to invent music. I recently read a book about the how, but not the why. Could it be music was a way to amplify and transcend ordinary human discourse, and to appeal to the raw simple emotions? Except for some complex classical pieces of music whose understanding requires a refined sensibility, most pieces of music elicit instantaneous reaction. One either likes it or not after no more than a minute. And it's hard not to like or even to love a musician whose music brings so much peace and joy to the listeners. Unfortunately for me, the therapeutic effects of listening to music didn't last. By the time I got near my condo, I got riled up again by the unpleasant memories associated with the photo. I felt then I had to discharge my frustrations and annoyance. So I turned the car around and got to the gym.I murdered the exercise machines that evening. I worked on them with a vengeance. I wanted to sublimate and transcend my anger, my rage. I wanted that by next time, if and when I give in to the impulse of vanity and have a picture of my body taken again, women would pant and salivate and faint with desire instead of lodging a complaint using feeble excuses ("She doth protest too much!"). I wanted clearly delineated definitions on my body. I wanted to possess a well-sculpted body just to feed my vanity. After an hour of intense workout, my 63-year-old body was screaming for mercy. I relented and headed for the whirlpool to soothe my body of the aches and pains and muscle burns. That was where I met her. She was a Hispanic of incomparable beauty and sexiness. She made my knees weak, my heart flutter, and my mouth water. Believe it or not, I am a bashful, shy, timid kind of guy. But that evening I couldn't help myself. All my timidity evaporated into thin air. She was like a powerful magnet and my eyes were two hapless little balls of iron. They turned to her. They hungrily took in her beauty and sex appeal. I started talking to her in my halting, broken Spanish. Luckily for me, she didn't talk much English so she had to put up with my poor command of the language of Cortez and Cervantes. She didn't know French otherwise I would express myself in that language of love because meeting her was like meeting life and encountering love and sex for the very first time. She opened the eyes of my heart and unlocked the door of my desire. She had everything in looks a man dreams about a woman. Sparkling teeth, long eyelashes to go with beautiful almond eyes, sheeny black hair, young (mid 20s), all curves and filled to the brim with vitality. The more I talked, my Spanish got better. Words came back from long- gone university days. She even noticed that and complimented me on it. I was in a trance. I waxed poetic about her beauty and sexuality. I disclosed that I "specialized" in writing love poetry. She demanded proof so I recited a poem I just wrote a few days before:Mon coeur a un secretLe secret, c'est toiJ'ai un désir Un jour je te baiseraAvec un tendre plaisirJ'ai un espoirMa nuit n'est plus noirEt je ne sera pas solitaireMais dis-moiComment je te fais Connaître mon grand amour Pour toiUne chose plus importante:Je souhaite que tu chantes Pour moi la chanson "Tristesse" de ChopinJe suis ton copainTon amour toujours Of course, I translated into Spanish for her benefit. After I was finished, she clapped her hands and exclaimed "How romantic! How beautiful!" I beamed broadly and my heart soared. The poem clinched it for me. She left her car in the 24 Hours Fitness Club parking lot and rode with me in my Beemer back to my condo. I did have a lucky day. I met a nice Southern belle, recouped the money I lost the night before, and now this Hispanic young woman within my reach. She had on a black top and tight jeans over shapely legs of which I had gazed longingly earlier. They didn't stay on her for long after we got inside the condo. We enjoyed ourselves like we were teenagers and this was the first time we tasted carnal pleasures. We went on for several hours, exploring each other. We went beyond where we each had been before. My sex and my mouth both hurt from being on her everywhere. Later, I took out some weed and offered her some. We smoked, drank beer, and talked until the wee hours of the morning. Then we passed out in each other's arms.When I woke up, she was gone! Alarmed, I jumped out of bed, my heart was racing and I was breathing hard. I was relieved when I located my wallet and found none of the money and the credit cards missing. I took a quick look of the condo and found everything seemed to be in order. I was then relaxed enough to realize that I needed to pee. Her note was on the bathroom counter, with a glass placed on top of it as if she was afraid a hurricane would come through and blow away her loving departing words:"Mi querido Roberto:Siento que no permanezca alrededor para decir adiós. Yo no tuve el coraje de ver dolor en su rostro. Tuve un muy buen momento anoche. Mi mejor. Deseaba que yo había conocido antes. Me ha gustado mucho y sabía que me adoraba. Pero me voy a casarme el mes próximo. Ya no puedo verte, pero siempre estarás en mi corazón. Espero que no se siente muy mal por lo que hice. Estoy segura de que encontrará una guapa mujer pronto porque estas muy agradable, educado y divertido estar alrededor.Te quiero,Sandra(My dear RobertoSorry that I didn't stay around to say goodby. I didn't have the courage to see pain on your face. I had a very good time last night. My best ever. I wished that I had met you sooner. I liked you a lot and I knew you adored me. But I am getting married next month. I can't see you anymore, but you will be forever in my heart. I hope you don't feel very bad about what I did. I am sure you will find a nice woman soon because you are very nice, educated, and fun to be around.I love you,Sandra.")I was stunned by her note. I read it again and again. I understood her situation and accepted her decision. Still, her departure left a void in my heart. The void is not filled up yet. But the latest encounter is giving me hope. Hope is what sustains and drives me. It makes me get up in the morning. It helps me write love poetry to whoever that catches my fancy. I have boundless dreams and fantasies. By the way, nowadays when I think of the Hispanic woman, I don't associate her with the name Sandra as that name was the one of a really insolent and stupid bitch who got on my nerves for a long time until she was run over by a proverbial bus last week. I didn't shed a tear over her demise as near the end of her life, she was cranky and impossible to talk to.To me, the Hispanic woman was always a Mariposa who flew out of my reach but left an indelible beautiful memory. Didn't I tell you that besides hopes and dreams, I also live for memories?Wissai/NKBa'September 15, 2012