I saw the man in the black uniform trying to put his glasses on at an angle…trying once, twice and finally on the third try he gets it right and his spectacles or glasses as the Americans call it, were rightly positioned over top of where the bridge of his nose. His nose arched and rose up from his face, with huge nostrils you’d imagine could smell even the slightest whiff.
He thought of what his wife may have cooked for dinner or whether they would have take away like the night before. He hated eating out. He felt it was better his wife murdered him than have him eat all that saturated and hydrogenated fat…He wondered whether he would die of a heart attack like his father and his grandfather before him…Why is she not concerned for my health he wondered? Does she hate me so much to desire my death? She’s lazy…the spawn of the devil – sloth.
He was lazy too. He had gotten too comfortable in the Play de Les miserables that his life had become. She promised him a lot when they first got together – she would bear his children, cook, clean do everything for him…She had big dreams for him, dreams for their beautiful family – luxury, comfort and travels to far and exotic places.He never could make those dreams come true and soon a curtain of gloom dropped on their life…Act II, Scene Apathy.
He got home and his wife was ordering takeaway…again.
“Do you have change for the tip?” his wife asked. Her tone nonchalant.
“Sure,” he said.
He went in to freshen up until the delivery guy came in.
As they sat there in the coffee shop sipping their coffee through the tiny apertures on the caps of their plastic coffee cups Herman stared out through the glass window and watched the automobiles passing by. Sherry was busy reading her book…She had just picked it up from the library that afternoon and hadn’t decided whether she liked it or not, but until then she decided she would continue to read.
Herman enjoyed these moments where they wouldn’t talk. He was the type of guy who enjoyed a woman’s company but didn’t care much for conversation. Sherry on the other hand loved to engage in small talk but found it futile to converse with Herman – their wavelengths just didn’t match..Any efforts at having a meaningful conversation would end with one of them exiting the scene in exasperation.
But she liked having him around. She liked how his brain worked – his logic, his reasoning… She felt he was a calming influence to her normally impetuous temperament. He kept her from running and crashing into stone walls and hurting herself.She loved his strong hands…
“I need more coffee” she said,” I’m going to get another cup; do you need me to get you something?”
Herman looked up and simply moved his head a whole one eighty degrees once and then back again to answer her question.
Sherry walked up to the barista and ordered a hot cup of vanilla latte in the smallest size. She noticed the barista was cute in the most obvious way and had the most gorgeous dimples as he smiled and took her order….’Too young’ she thought to herself. As she waited for her coffee she looked across the coffee shop to Herman as he sat there looking out the window just as she left him…
His calls were unrelenting – he was crazy about her – or so she thought in the beginning of their relationship. If he couldn’t reach her, his calls and the messages would come pouring in – almost like the rain she found herself stuck in that evening. It wasn’t too late after they had met that she realized that he was merely a child in a grown man’s body.
For him she was just another prize that he had to win. And like all the “toys” he would he would buy for himself – he would fiddle with them for some time and then simply throw them away.
He was used to being neglected, ignored as a child and he was used to demanding attention. Love was an alien concept and yet a word he very often used…and abused
“Julia I love you, please pick up the phone”
She read the message on her phone. It was the tenth message he had sent her in the span of the last ten minutes. She wasn’t sure if she should reply or acknowledge his calls or messages. It was becoming unbearable for her – he was becoming unbearable to her. His self obsession, paranoia and his lack of sensitivity was all getting on her nerves. She knew she had to move out of this toxic relationship and stop playing the victim.
The weather that evening was terrible and she wasn’t sure when she would be able to get home. The rain kept pouring in torrents on her wind shield. Dense, heavy droplets of sky tears – there was only so much that even Mother Nature could take. She had been stuck in traffic for almost an hour now and even though the wipers swished quick and fast the fog and the water were unyielding and made it impossible for her to make out how far the line of cars extended before her…
“C’mon, move already!” she yelled in exasperation.
Sam Smith sang soulfully on the radio-
” When you call me baby…
I know I’m not the only one”
Slowly she lowered the glass of the window on her side of the car and a blast of icy cold air hit her skin. She closed her eyes and while her phone continued to beep and blink she asked herself where she was in a hurry to get to anyway. Driving back home to her lonely one bedroom apartment she would still be tormented by thoughts of him. She wondered why she kept repeating these mistakes…Then again was she getting addicted to the chaos that was her life? What would happen if she finally did the inevitable and just let him go? Would she miss the attention? Would she miss him and his craziness?
She let the rain fall on her face and she felt the drops of nature’s pain stream down her face dissolving her own.
“Its over Ted.” she heard herself say over the phone. She heard angry rants on the other side as she cut the line and placed the phone beside her.
The rain had stopped and the cars had started to move. Slowly and surely she drove home.
One of my earliest memories of a Christmas song (apart from the carols of course) is ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!
The song was released in 1984, the year I was born and topped the charts in the UK and was the No.1 song in several countries that year. As a girl, I remember hearing this song playing on the radio on Christmas morning as the house filled with mummy’s Christmas cooking and me and my brother sneaked into the kitchen and stole brownies from the cake tin.
But coming back to the song, I remember as a kid wondering what my then crush George Micheal (way before he came out to the world as being gay and not that I would’ve understood it at that time) was singing about giving his heart away and what that had to do with Christmas.
Years later as I grew older and many an infatuation and a heartbreak later I began to understand the meaning of the lyrics and how the song talks about unrequited love and hope.
Rejection from a person you love is a gut wrenching/agonizing feeling. When you realize it has happened, you not only hate the person you were ‘in love’ with but also – yourself…and then even your roommates begin to hate you because you chose to just mope around and not shower.
You feel confused and broken and you treat yourself like a lab rat in a cage poking and prodding – trying to analyze and dissect aspects of your personality that may have led to the rejection.
But its a sad truth that sometimes people you care a lot about don’t care as much about you and vice versa. Psychologists attribute this tendency to a primitive masochistic gene that sometimes rears its ugly head in our personalities.Sometimes ‘People reject the most thoughtful, most caring, most loving people in their lives’..It happens and I would agree with Taylor Swift when she says you just gotta- ‘Shake it Off’
With Christmas round the corner this is a time to throw the past behind you and to solidify your sense of self worth and to call on your special strengths…
Go grab that yoga mat and just breaathe…now slowly open your eyes put the pieces of your exquisite crystal heart back together and like George Michael sings reserve it ‘to give to someone special’..
Until next time please do enjoy the song!
[Chorus (2x):] Last Christmas I gave you my heart But the very next day you gave it away. This year To save me from tears I’ll give it to someone special.Once bitten and twice shy I keep my distance But you still catch my eye. Tell me, baby, Do you recognize me? Well, It’s been a year, It doesn’t surprise me (Merry Christmas)I wrapped it up and sent it With a note saying, “I love you,” I meant it Now I know what a fool I’ve been. But if you kissed me now I know you’d fool me again.[Chorus 2x]Oh, oh, baby.A crowded room, Friends with tired eyes. I’m hiding from you And your soul of ice. My god I thought you were someone to rely on. Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on.A face on a lover with a fire in his heart. A man under cover but you tore me apart, ooh-hoo. Now I’ve found a real love, you’ll never fool me again.[Chorus 2x]A face on a lover with a fire in his heart (I gave you my heart) A man under cover but you tore him apart Maybe next year I’ll give it to someone I’ll give it to someone special.Special… Someone..
“So, I’ve never been an excellent conversationalist. I’m the guy when you sit down in a group and suddenly you notice everyone has left and its just you and that guy and you have no other place to go and you strain your brain for a very good excuse for a place to be so that you could avoid just sitting there with me and all the awkwardness..or we both just stare into our cellphones and the other guy tweets –
“Stuck with weirdo#worstdayofmylife#whyme#dudegokillyourself”
…Yes, that’s been me.
Its come to the point where I start getting panic attacks if I’m left alone in a room with just one person..if its two people its perfectly fine because if nothing else, the other two will strike a conversation with each other and I can play the role of the perfect bystander…
I’m a ‘good’ listener..did you know listeners are in great demand! Two people who are huge at talking and have an ego to match don’t quite get along and they love guys like me who suffer from a condition of chronic low self esteem who will listen to just about any non sense or gossip and bear with your idiosyncrasies so that I have an excuse not to open my mouth and can drift into the comfort of my imagination all the while acting like I’m engrossed in whatever it is you are saying..I have indeed perfected the art of ‘zoning out’.Like Mr. Walter Mitty down here
Chicks dig me. I’m the guy they come to with their ‘issues’…stuff they can’t talk to their boyfriends about or even stuff about other girls they love to ‘share’ with me…Did I mention I’m the master of zoning out…but Hey! Im not that bad. I do listen once in a while and they ‘appreciate’ the words of wisdom I sometimes dole out in highly concentrated doses..I am also the Master of brevity..almost makes me feel like a Buddhist monk or a Zen master…fleeting boosts to my self esteem…
I sometimes attribute my lack of topics to talk about or even the inability to contribute to my average IQ…took the IQ test and it said I had a score of 155 which is supposed to be a high average.So I’m not dumb neither am I Stephen Hawking.
I have this crush on this girl though and I think she might be interested in me, what with all my ‘Zenness’ and all. But, I’m not sure if I can hold her attention for too long..What if she leaves me when she discovers that I’m not so cool? That I’m just a guy with the flair for the dramatic and a chronic case of lazybonitis?
She seems so smart…I think the love bug has gotten to my head as I see ‘How to master the art of conversation‘ and ‘Increase your brain power in Ten days‘ lying on my desk glowing under the light of my table lamp.
Will I be a survivor? Can I change the fate of all my brothers who dont have the gift of the gab or will I end up in the love dumpster? Guess we’ll find out soon enough.