Date

I swiped him right on Bumble. He had old and blur photos. One photo was an old man carrying a child on his shoulder. I was confused how it fit into his dating profile. In another photo, he was pulling tail of a large fish on the beach. The fish seemed a small shark. I was a bit concerned about his way of fun. But, I swiped him right anyway. His world looked different than mine. I wanted to have a taste of unknown. Meeting a new person doesn’t make me nervous. It doesn’t make me excited either. I’m only curious about the person that lives inside of my body. I don’t know this person. I want to know what she will feel, what she will do, and how she will do when she’s out of her comfort zone. He was late. I was early. I always arrive early so that I can see them when they walk in. I greet them like a host, “welcome to my space”. It gives me a bit of control over the atmosphere. After all, it’s my show! I saw him walked in. He asked something to the server and left. I didn’t take a good look at his face. I didn’t want to. I could have waved at him and said, “I’m here”. But, I let him go. That was his punishment for being two minutes late. He found me later and approached me for a hug. I don’t like hugging but the person who lives inside of my body might like it. So, I leaned forward. We hugged and I felt nothing. He talked too much. But I forgave him because he had an adorable smile. I made him talk more so that I could enjoy that smile. He put his arm around my shoulder when we walked towards the parking lot. He asked if it was okay. Didn’t matter. I felt nothing. He asked, “hold hands?” I held his hand and walked to the car. He said goodbye with another hug and kiss on the side of my forehead. He smelled nice. The person who lives inside of my body reminded me that I only held one hand before and nobody hugged me with a kiss on my forehead. I wish I could remember how it felt holding a hand or hug or kiss or an adorable smile. I remember nothing.

Hair cut

I lie. I lie a lot. I lie when they ask, “how are you?” I reply, “Great! How are you?” The true reply will be, “bad, really really bad and fuck you”. When hairdresser says, “short hair is such a nice treat for summer”.  What I want to say is, “no bitch, fucking treat your ass! I hate looking my fucking face into that fucking mirror. Every time I see the face, I want to punch the mirror hard. And cut all over my face with a piece of broken mirror. I cut my hair to be someone else so that I don’t hurt a stranger. And shut the fuck up, you fucking cunt!  And do your god damn fucking job!” But, what I do is put a pretty smile on my face (I have a very pretty smile) and say “I love my short hair, thank you!”

Collaboration

“I’ve a dream.”

I want to laugh out loud. But it will be inappropriate among all these grey suits. No, wait! There is one in a black suit with a pair of black glasses, black shoes, and black stockings. She doesn’t use worthless word. I’m falling in love with her!

I turn my face away to hide smile and politely ask “do you mind if I have some coffee?” Coffee makes me a nice person. With coffee, I’m “living up every day to be a better person” so that I don’t make mistake. But you can’t have good stuff too much! I’ve turned into an asshole after three coffees.

I can’t resist myself to play the game of staring into eyes with Linda Thompson. Is she pregnant? Her face looks puffy. Or, is it just naturally flat and big? She is not intimidated. She holds her eyes into mine. I give up. I go back enjoying the black suit. Look at her black glasses! They’re expensive and they suit her. May be I should change mine too.

I don’t hear what he says after “I’ve a dream”. Polano’s nose pin distracts me. They explained the pronunciation earlier, “P-O-L-A-N-O” not “P-O-L-E-N-O”. Doesn’t matter. It’s an ugly name. I want to tell Polano “hey, we’ve similar names” (no, we don’t). I stop myself on time. Polan’s nose pin fails to bring out the look. Do you ever notice a blur feeling on someone’ face? You search for something on the face but it gives you nothing. And what’s this hair style? It looks like she hasn’t shampooed or brushed it.

…“sacrifice”. I miss his words again. What has he just said before and after “sacrifice”? I struggle to pay attention to his words. His words make me want to have three double shots of tequila. Chuck chuck chuck…lit up a joint and then ask, “tell me honey, why so sad.” I don’t worry about his words. The black suit will fill me in. Polano is taking notes in her school girl like handwriting. Linda Thomson will ask me something. I quite enjoy her asking me questions. You know those people, pretend to be nice and kind, but actually they are a piece of shit? I take another look at Linda Thompson. How does she manage to keep her hair sleek and shiny?  I admire her wording, “I don’t want to put my words into your mouth” or “Sorry, let me rephrase my words”. I will probably use them later. I just need to decide how I will use, in a soft singing like voice with a worried face or in a husky voice with a straight face. Like, “ooo honey, I don’t want to put my words into your mouth” or “hey man, I don’t want to put my words into your mouth”.

My body is asking for a walk after all this caffeine. I adjust my headphones and put on Dean Lewis on high volume. His mate says-

“It’s gonna hurt for a bit of time
So bottoms up, let’s forget tonight
You’ll find another and you’ll be just fine”

I feel ya, buddy! I have shitty mates too. They don’t understand that time doesn’t heal everything. I bottom up free samples in the middle of afternoon from a nice girl at the Farmers Market by making false promise that I’ll buy next time. I make an excuse at beard man to check if he still can pull up those beard with long hair. It doesn’t matter anymore. Last time I check; Facebook says he likes someone else.

Hey beard man, I know I’ll be fine. I just can’t shake off his words, “it was just for fun”.