Rosewood London Pub

[JeanBa]

 

One look and I knew I despised her. The girl who talks a lot, who talks too much, who talks for the sake of it as long as she makes noise. I could hear her explaining her ridiculous points of view to my friend who, sitting between her and me, seemed totally taken by her "strength of character". Didn't he see that it was all a charade? Lack of experience or lack of psychological sensitivity? I wondered as I looked at her. I examined her face in detail while the music drowned out her words that only reached my ears in bits and pieces. In any case, I didn't want to listen to her, she was stupid, I understood that. A mouth that was a little too pinched but big blue eyes behind glasses with a rather heavy frame supported by a small, pretty, trumpet-shaped nose, thick brown hair. She was pretty, knew how to give herself this style that was meant to be professional. At a glance, you could tell right away that she didn't want to come across as a show-off. She didn't want to appear as the pretty girl you're hitting on, and I was sure that hitting on her was insulting her. No... She had to lead the dance, otherwise it wouldn't work. Besides, my friend had fallen into the game.

She explained to him her strength of character in different situations. She was a dinosaur of the 90s. The moral vestige of those chicks who had existed by the hundreds of thousands to do what this period offered best... Marketing. Pretty and not sexy chicks who knew how to show that they were in control. Grotesquely marketing. To control one's own boat. All you had to do was convince others to convince yourself. That's marketing. Managing the way you are perceived. I despised her so much and her speech created from scratch. The more I looked at her, the more I found her weak and vulnerable. Mechanically a smile appeared on my lips. Our eyes met. She looked at me surprised almost with a disapproving air. Who was I to smile at her? She must have taken that as an attempt to get closer. I smiled more and shook my head gently. She didn't see it.

She had turned to my buddy again. He respected the rules she set. He didn't go beyond the barriers she had set up to protect herself. With respect, he gave her all the reactions she wanted to generate. He offered them to her like a prayer, like an offering, a sacrifice made to a goddess you hoped to win over to your cause. He wanted her, he desired her, it was obvious. And this cerebral succubus enjoyed it, she had what she wanted. She had my buddy at her feet and he would never have anything from her, never anything outside of the ridiculous speeches that "proved" the strength of character of this big bitch. I would have liked her to be ugly. That she had never been used to being idolized. Bitch! How vulgar! How banal. How lacking in culture, in delicacy. I looked down at my beer, vaguely hearing the "me, me, me, and me again" coming out of her slightly too tight mouth. A few sips. I looked up and couldn't help but look at her again. A second time our eyes met.

I said nothing, and she looked at me longer this time. I could read the contempt in it. Of course, I didn't play along and I didn't say anything. She must have found me completely self-effacing. The idea made me smile and once again, her features became totally haughty. She must have been sure to please me with her sophisticated air and speech. And she must have thought I was a retard who didn't know what to say when faced with a speech as interesting and solid as hers... Bitch! I finished my beer and got up, letting my boyfriend and her talk. I ordered another beer at the pub counter. A pretty English waitress was behind me. The unpretentious girl, the girl who was aware of her beauty and self-confident enough not to have to put together a formatted speech to throw dust in the eyes of those around her. I winked at her as I ordered and headed to the bathroom while she served me this beer. After peeing I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment, smiled at myself, splashed water on my face and went back into the room. I paid for my beer and left a good tip. I was given a big sincere smile from my English girl and then I went back to the table where my friend was drinking in the words of the other backward girl. I didn't sit in my original place but next to Miss Marketing.

"So, my pretty? Are you having fun telling us about your life? " The sentence was of little interest, but was enough to declare war and enter into conflict. She narrowed her eyes behind her glasses and gave me a dark look while I lit a cigarette with a broad smile.

I was lying in my bed, my body slightly covered in sweat. A cigarette between my lips again. I stared at the ceiling wondering how I was going to get rid of her the next day. I looked at the ceiling then glanced at my Asian watch. We had left the bar barely an hour before. Then my eyes turned to her. She was looking at me with an admiring and sincere smile. She was naked; she was pretty and I resented her for that. The duvet was rolled up in a ball at the foot of the bed, I had kept my socks on. My throat was tight, it was dark enough for her not to see that I had tears in my eyes. In this room, in my room, there There was only one asshole and it was me.

JeanBa

Edited January 10 by JeanBa