Issuu on Google+

1. She killed me. She literally killed me. It was a simple mercy shot, which I didn’t expect. “I felt great with you Holden. I would like us to stay friends.” She smiled at me hypocritically, like I didn’t know she was sleeping with somebody else. What did I expect? I didn’t expect it to be perfect, nor that she would be the right one for me. And maybe... Maybe I wasn’t even hoping that she would stay faithful to me. Could i be so naive? I could. Of course I could. And now she was standing nervously in front of me and quietly pulling cell phone out of her pocket, so she could stealthily check on time. She must have had a meeting with him afterwards, for sure. But firstly she had to deal with some trivial obstacle. Me. I looked in her beautiful unfaithul blue eyes and with a smile on my face I said: “Fuck it.” , gave her kiss on a cheek and walked away.


2. “Hey, sweetie, how’s it going?” I gave an unknown lady the best american smile in my repertoire. “Leave me alone you perv!” She shouted at me and quickly disappeared in the crowd. The rest of the night was held in the similar fashion. I thought it would be much easier. I wasn’t able to figure out the reason of my most recent failure with women. “Maybe it would help you if you stopped drinking two shots everytime you are refused by someone.” There was a woman sitting to my left. She was calmly mixing something colourful in her glass using a straw, as she was looking at me. Almost everyone sits on a bar stool looking like some sort of local junkie. But only few can sit on them with such an elegance. She managed to do it quite easily. “I’ve been observing you for a while. I was curious if somebody would fall for your pick up line.” Then she smiled. A wonderful smile. She sipped from her drink and waited for my answer. With all the willpower that I had left in me, I managed to concentrate and instead of saying: “Hey, sugartits, how’s it going?” I just mumbled something in the air and propped up my head with my hand. But my eye-lids disappointed me and my eyes shut. When i opened them again, the bar was closed. There was no clue about the unknown beauty.


3. As I was leaving the bar, I became fully aware of my miserable being. Without a girlfriend... without... a girlfriend. I wasn’t missing anything except a girlfriend. I was always fascinated by how many people collapse mentally after the break up. In essence, these people have everything! They have food to put in their mouths, they have roofs above their heads, they have friends which like them. Often they also have a decent job. And sometimes even a lover knocking on the door. Despite all this they still drink gallons of alcohol. Not because they want to forget, but mostly because it is some kind of a tradition. She left you? We have to get wasted! You left her? We have to get wasted! I was all the same. It was essential to realise it. That’s why, when I finally left the bar, my head was up. Unfortunately, one leg had an urge to get in the way of the other one. The second leg was stubborn and tried to avoid this bodily collision what eventually meant that I left the bar with my head proudly raised up, but aiming at the concrete ground. Luckily, my right hand had eased the fall. It was a sign from heaven. Every phoenix has to rise from his own ashes. And so I had to rise and stand up on my legs. “Are you coming to my place or what?”


4. There was a brunette standing next to the bar exit. Standing in a perfect pose, which she must have perfected over the years, she was watching me crumble on the hard ground while puffing clouds of smoke out of her cigarette. She didn’t smoke like a regular smoker. She smoked more like someone who smokes for the looks of it. “Are you waiting for me?” I asked her, trying to stand up. “Well,...” she gasped, took another hit from her cigarette, dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it “, it looks like it.” I went closer to her, so finally I could examine her in detail. She could have had one meter and seventyfive centimetres. She was slim. Wide belt emphasized her thin waist. She wore a green top with cleavage, filled with a nice pair of breasts. Intelligent looking brown eyes matched perfectly with her outfit. I brushed my fingers through my hair and this time it was me who gasped. I met my dream woman. Here, now, and drunk like a pig. Intellectually-wise, I bet she is just like I always imagined she would be. I asked her a question: “So are we going to your place then?” This time I pulled out my American smile number two- a bit less pervy, but nevertheless still very effective. She replied: “Of course we are.” Yes, she was my dream woman.


5. We called a taxi. It didn’t take too long because she lived somewhere between the Old and New town. I was still drunk. My head was spinning and the shining street lights seemed like a big colourful blur behind the car window. We didn’t talk about anything serious. Just the usual small talk. We agreed that the night is beautiful today, that the weather came out quite well, and that we were watching the same CSI tv show last night. From time to time I inconspicuously checked whether it is really that beauty from the bar sitting next to me right now. Apparently she was still there and she wasn’t going anywhere. In that moment I started to realise where this night is leading to. Yes, I was about to to have sex with the woman that I always dreamed of. But when it is coming to that very moment, suddenly you realise that even the greatest, most beautiful and the most adored person, is just a human. Nothing more and nothing less. That’s why when I got out of the taxi and helped her with getting out, I said: “I hope you have a condom, I forgot mine tonight.”


6. When we entered her apartment it seemed strangely familiar to me. I didn’t know why but everything I saw, the paintings, vases, decorations... Everything seemed like I have seen it before. Déjá vu. Maybe I have seen this place in my dreams or on some picture. I stopped in the middle of her bedroom where she quietly took me. She stood next to me and waited for me to kiss her. But I stroke her face gently and said: “Couldn’t we just talk?” “Talk. You could have said sooner that you are gay.” She put her belt back on, which I didn’t even notice her taking it off. “I’m not gay. But you are so beautiful and I would like to keep this moment for when I will be completely sober.” Now she was standing next to the door to her apartment, stabbing me with the look in her eyes. “Oh please, don’t be ridiculous… What moment? We could have had a good time. You would have left in the morning and everything would be OK.” “Nothing would be OK. I feel like it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.”


“I think you should better get going.” “I will. But before that I want to know one last thing.” “What is it?” “What’s your name?”

wrote by: Peter Nagy for webpage: www.holdenovsvet.sk


Holden´s world