Neglecting to mention her bodybuilding physique and a twin brother she resembles, I turn to a friend over drinks at the close of the day, saying, 'she has a body like a silhouette.'
We talk of the random happenings that happened since our last visit over potato vodka and chess. He talks but doesn't listen. I prefer to listen to felt scratching across a chessboard then the noise of conversation. I lost two games and biked home, excited by the thought of this new woman.
"This Sunday would be a good time to meet," I text. She asks whom this before agreeing to meet. "Lets meet at a park nearby," I suggest. She says I'm rude for not offering to pick her up. I do so we go atop the motorbike to a bakery near a park with nice grass.
Getting grass on her skirt we walk towards the bakery when she informs me she can't eat because of a diet. The bakery is out of ham and cheese croissants so I order a roll and an espresso. No cafes either so we walk across the street to a corporate coffee joint. I order an espresso; she orders a mocha with six shots.
"Six?" I inquire. "Don't judge," she retorts. 'At some point its not even coffee,' I think. 'Just a viscous syrup drizzled over ice. She uses the restroom and I take notice of a fifty-something man in a pink halter-top shirt, low ride women's jean and an exposed thong.
The man paces the store before leaning against a countertop to obstruct the aisle with his ass. The man leaves and I notice an Asian woman noticing him too. "Don't be jealous," I say to the Asian who laughs just as she walks out from the restroom.
And our drinks are ready so we grab coffee and head back over to the park where I've brought strawberries, blueberries and Greek yogurt to eat. "I can't eat fruit," she explains. "What can you eat," I enquire. "Only chicken and eggs," she retorts. 'Change the subject,' I think, 'this has all the trappings of someone with body issues. Black, short-cropped bangs hang over her forehead; the lines directing my vision towards her snaggled teeth. 'Why do I find damaged teeth so endearing?' I wonder. Maybe it’s easier to fall for someone's faults then their refined attributes. Under an overcast sun I stared across grass at the woman stretched out before me and her defined if not masculine physique.
"I lie a lot," she says after I catch her in a fib. 'That's fucking gross,' I think. It doesn't matter if someone's a thief, criminal or all around bad person so long as they come to terms with it but lying comes across as something pitiful, desperate. I change the subject to the pile of sand in my bed from the other night.
"God, when I was growing up I didn't even have a bed," she said. "I slept on the floor for months." 'When I moved to Los Angeles,' I remembered, 'I slept on the floor with my jacket for a pillow.' It doesn’t matter whether or not she’s lying so I said I've always had a bed and its time to take her home.
She had a body like a silhouette and could overlook the mannishness but nothings more disgusting then lying even when it’s you lying to a liar.
We talk of the random happenings that happened since our last visit over potato vodka and chess. He talks but doesn't listen. I prefer to listen to felt scratching across a chessboard then the noise of conversation. I lost two games and biked home, excited by the thought of this new woman.
"This Sunday would be a good time to meet," I text. She asks whom this before agreeing to meet. "Lets meet at a park nearby," I suggest. She says I'm rude for not offering to pick her up. I do so we go atop the motorbike to a bakery near a park with nice grass.
Getting grass on her skirt we walk towards the bakery when she informs me she can't eat because of a diet. The bakery is out of ham and cheese croissants so I order a roll and an espresso. No cafes either so we walk across the street to a corporate coffee joint. I order an espresso; she orders a mocha with six shots.
"Six?" I inquire. "Don't judge," she retorts. 'At some point its not even coffee,' I think. 'Just a viscous syrup drizzled over ice. She uses the restroom and I take notice of a fifty-something man in a pink halter-top shirt, low ride women's jean and an exposed thong.
The man paces the store before leaning against a countertop to obstruct the aisle with his ass. The man leaves and I notice an Asian woman noticing him too. "Don't be jealous," I say to the Asian who laughs just as she walks out from the restroom.
And our drinks are ready so we grab coffee and head back over to the park where I've brought strawberries, blueberries and Greek yogurt to eat. "I can't eat fruit," she explains. "What can you eat," I enquire. "Only chicken and eggs," she retorts. 'Change the subject,' I think, 'this has all the trappings of someone with body issues. Black, short-cropped bangs hang over her forehead; the lines directing my vision towards her snaggled teeth. 'Why do I find damaged teeth so endearing?' I wonder. Maybe it’s easier to fall for someone's faults then their refined attributes. Under an overcast sun I stared across grass at the woman stretched out before me and her defined if not masculine physique.
"I lie a lot," she says after I catch her in a fib. 'That's fucking gross,' I think. It doesn't matter if someone's a thief, criminal or all around bad person so long as they come to terms with it but lying comes across as something pitiful, desperate. I change the subject to the pile of sand in my bed from the other night.
"God, when I was growing up I didn't even have a bed," she said. "I slept on the floor for months." 'When I moved to Los Angeles,' I remembered, 'I slept on the floor with my jacket for a pillow.' It doesn’t matter whether or not she’s lying so I said I've always had a bed and its time to take her home.
She had a body like a silhouette and could overlook the mannishness but nothings more disgusting then lying even when it’s you lying to a liar.
Comments