N was a quiet, shy girl who was always sat next to R at school. R was the pretty one; tall, with a pale face, beautiful eyes, and a smile that turned to one side in just the right measure, and so that it just revealed a singular very pointy tooth. I had never quite understood what fascination I held for vampirish canines, but it was an instant cue that set my budding carnal desires raging and every time she smiled, the world seemed a tad more exciting. Everyone thought R was pretty, including me of course, for she was the measure of beauty in a land where paleness was everything that beauty in a woman meant. N, on the other hand, was dark and timid and was fancied by no one, including me, of course, for she was measured by that same yardstick of paleness and on that account she certainly did not deliver.
And so N remained quiet and silently let R continue stealing hearts. I fancied R, but I was too young to be sure of what I wanted to do with that fascination, until that one fateful day that changed how I perceived her forever, or almost forever anyway. "Haaaa.... It's so big!", she had said with her pretty smile and wide eyes, looking directly at my semi-erect junk with a hand on her mouth as I stood up gingerly to answer a question in class. My hormones had just begun raging and I could not help but occasionally glance at the young teachers' breasts and think of how they'd appear underneath the clothing - to be fair, I instantly begged for forgiveness for such `sins' and occasionally, I was punished with an embarrassing erection. On that fateful day, such was the case.
It was a `dick' move on my part, as I have now come to think of that incident. R was great but R and I were a little too embarrassed to talk for a while after and that incident had colored my thoughts of her in such a negative way that by the time I grew out of those, life had moved on. Later one uneventful day, out of the blue, R had contacted me and told me all about her new boyfriend and how handsome he was, and had asked me if I was jealous and I had said no. And that was that. She was pretty and argumentative and loved to reason - in short, everything that I had wanted, but that was that. Which is why N is the one this story is dedicated to. For while R got married off young and was in labor with her first child, N was sitting opposite to me in a sandwich shop, and suddenly, in this strange land far away from home, I was forced to look at her and think that she was goddamn pretty.
Because, as it had recently dawned on me, beauty is simply a matter of what the society decides is beautiful. And in this new land, the rules of beauty were different - none the more ethical, none the less perverse, but simply different. And N knew it and loved her newfound acceptance. She had contacted me to let me know she was arriving in town to see a friend of hers and wanted to see me. I had immediately responded in the affirmative, curious to know how life had turned out for her, and for our old school friends.
N was now a fitness freak. She ate very little, all of a bowl of leaves was enough to fill her completely, but it all seemed worth it. Her tall figure really showed now, and the fat on her cheeks had melted away to give room to a very cute, no, very sexy smile. The darkness of her face did not matter anymore, and she was brimming with a confidence I had never seen in her. A little too much confidence, as I think of it now. She had started with, "You could have picked a better place, you know..." and then when I replied in an unsure way, she had continued with, "You used to be so over-confident and talkative in school, and now you seem like you've become one of the shy professor types. What have they done to you?" I was a bit surprised by that assertion because if I knew anything about my self, it was that I should learn to talk less. I let her know that I was glad that she had shed her quietness since she had left home. But as the night progressed, it seemed to me that she had also shed her home, for not a single mention of it came without a resounding voice of disapproval. She loved it in this strange land and I could not disagree with her, for I loved it just as much. And moreover, it seemed right for her to disregard the land that had disregarded her.
N was also sweet, I could tell. I figured it was natural - it was the sweetness of a person who was once unfairly rejected by society, had developed the strength to overcome it but still remembered how much it had hurt. I knew this because she had said, with a mischievous smile, that my hair looked really messy, and then, after a few minutes of afterthought, had suddenly interrupted our conversation with something that betrayed her sweetness. She said, "You know, I said it's messy but it's still kinda nice, in a geeky way though. You could model that look you know, you just need a red tie on that brown sweater and that would be pretty chic then." It had only then begun to dawn on me, that I was possibly on a date with an old school friend. Actually, no, if it had dawned on me then, I would have instantly made it clear that I wasn't available; of course, after I had said something about her prettiness, which was heartfelt, and so that she wasn't hurt.
From the high of that warm awkwardness, sadly only mundanity ensued, and for a while, until, in another keen display of her newfound growth, N mentioned how she had developed a passion for economics. Intrigued, I asked for her thoughts on the appointment of the new state bank governor at home. She replied, a little sheepishly I could tell, that she did not know who this chap was, and then, as if in defiance, muttered that she didn't keep up to date with news from home. And so I asked her about what she thought of O's Keynesian policies and she pretended to have bit her tongue and changed the conversation. You see, N was the same old, but wrapped up in new packaging. In that moment I saw in her the same quiet N who knew not what had to be said generally. R knew little of economics and many other things but she was inquisitive and knew her boundaries; and where she felt comfortable she could argue her way through anything. That was hot. As I snapped out of my reverie, I asked her about how R was doing. She spoke about R for a bit, almost grudgingly, as if, she had read all that had just crossed my mind. Then when her petulance subsided, she fell quiet, and the evening continued quietly from there on. I thought to myself, beauty was still skin-deep.
After we had paid our bills separately, she gave me her generous gift that she had dragged all the way from wherever she was at, which I forgot to ask. It was a framed art piece and I thought it was very sweet of her even though I did not particularly like the artwork itself. I felt I needed to make it up to her and I offered to pay for desserts. But N was a fitness freak and only frozen yoghurt was acceptable. I obliged, just that, N then had the great realization that frozen yoghurt was also not healthy enough and got such a little amount that the cost seemed more suitable for a delivery tip. There was also the little matter of not sharing one cup, but I could not be blamed for that. As I was finally coming to terms with the fact that she wanted something more from this day, I began to feel weary and wanted desperately to leave. When I bade farewell, I half-heartedly mentioned that we should keep in touch, and in return, I felt in her response, a silent whimper that hid behind somewhere a small heartbreak. When I got on the bus I thought of her and her gift and felt a bit shit so I thought it would be nice to let her know once more that I appreciated it. She instantly replied with,"I'm glad! But it's not something special, just so you know."
I got off the bus, took a sweet drag of my cigarette and laughed a bit.
And so N remained quiet and silently let R continue stealing hearts. I fancied R, but I was too young to be sure of what I wanted to do with that fascination, until that one fateful day that changed how I perceived her forever, or almost forever anyway. "Haaaa.... It's so big!", she had said with her pretty smile and wide eyes, looking directly at my semi-erect junk with a hand on her mouth as I stood up gingerly to answer a question in class. My hormones had just begun raging and I could not help but occasionally glance at the young teachers' breasts and think of how they'd appear underneath the clothing - to be fair, I instantly begged for forgiveness for such `sins' and occasionally, I was punished with an embarrassing erection. On that fateful day, such was the case.
It was a `dick' move on my part, as I have now come to think of that incident. R was great but R and I were a little too embarrassed to talk for a while after and that incident had colored my thoughts of her in such a negative way that by the time I grew out of those, life had moved on. Later one uneventful day, out of the blue, R had contacted me and told me all about her new boyfriend and how handsome he was, and had asked me if I was jealous and I had said no. And that was that. She was pretty and argumentative and loved to reason - in short, everything that I had wanted, but that was that. Which is why N is the one this story is dedicated to. For while R got married off young and was in labor with her first child, N was sitting opposite to me in a sandwich shop, and suddenly, in this strange land far away from home, I was forced to look at her and think that she was goddamn pretty.
Because, as it had recently dawned on me, beauty is simply a matter of what the society decides is beautiful. And in this new land, the rules of beauty were different - none the more ethical, none the less perverse, but simply different. And N knew it and loved her newfound acceptance. She had contacted me to let me know she was arriving in town to see a friend of hers and wanted to see me. I had immediately responded in the affirmative, curious to know how life had turned out for her, and for our old school friends.
N was now a fitness freak. She ate very little, all of a bowl of leaves was enough to fill her completely, but it all seemed worth it. Her tall figure really showed now, and the fat on her cheeks had melted away to give room to a very cute, no, very sexy smile. The darkness of her face did not matter anymore, and she was brimming with a confidence I had never seen in her. A little too much confidence, as I think of it now. She had started with, "You could have picked a better place, you know..." and then when I replied in an unsure way, she had continued with, "You used to be so over-confident and talkative in school, and now you seem like you've become one of the shy professor types. What have they done to you?" I was a bit surprised by that assertion because if I knew anything about my self, it was that I should learn to talk less. I let her know that I was glad that she had shed her quietness since she had left home. But as the night progressed, it seemed to me that she had also shed her home, for not a single mention of it came without a resounding voice of disapproval. She loved it in this strange land and I could not disagree with her, for I loved it just as much. And moreover, it seemed right for her to disregard the land that had disregarded her.
N was also sweet, I could tell. I figured it was natural - it was the sweetness of a person who was once unfairly rejected by society, had developed the strength to overcome it but still remembered how much it had hurt. I knew this because she had said, with a mischievous smile, that my hair looked really messy, and then, after a few minutes of afterthought, had suddenly interrupted our conversation with something that betrayed her sweetness. She said, "You know, I said it's messy but it's still kinda nice, in a geeky way though. You could model that look you know, you just need a red tie on that brown sweater and that would be pretty chic then." It had only then begun to dawn on me, that I was possibly on a date with an old school friend. Actually, no, if it had dawned on me then, I would have instantly made it clear that I wasn't available; of course, after I had said something about her prettiness, which was heartfelt, and so that she wasn't hurt.
From the high of that warm awkwardness, sadly only mundanity ensued, and for a while, until, in another keen display of her newfound growth, N mentioned how she had developed a passion for economics. Intrigued, I asked for her thoughts on the appointment of the new state bank governor at home. She replied, a little sheepishly I could tell, that she did not know who this chap was, and then, as if in defiance, muttered that she didn't keep up to date with news from home. And so I asked her about what she thought of O's Keynesian policies and she pretended to have bit her tongue and changed the conversation. You see, N was the same old, but wrapped up in new packaging. In that moment I saw in her the same quiet N who knew not what had to be said generally. R knew little of economics and many other things but she was inquisitive and knew her boundaries; and where she felt comfortable she could argue her way through anything. That was hot. As I snapped out of my reverie, I asked her about how R was doing. She spoke about R for a bit, almost grudgingly, as if, she had read all that had just crossed my mind. Then when her petulance subsided, she fell quiet, and the evening continued quietly from there on. I thought to myself, beauty was still skin-deep.
After we had paid our bills separately, she gave me her generous gift that she had dragged all the way from wherever she was at, which I forgot to ask. It was a framed art piece and I thought it was very sweet of her even though I did not particularly like the artwork itself. I felt I needed to make it up to her and I offered to pay for desserts. But N was a fitness freak and only frozen yoghurt was acceptable. I obliged, just that, N then had the great realization that frozen yoghurt was also not healthy enough and got such a little amount that the cost seemed more suitable for a delivery tip. There was also the little matter of not sharing one cup, but I could not be blamed for that. As I was finally coming to terms with the fact that she wanted something more from this day, I began to feel weary and wanted desperately to leave. When I bade farewell, I half-heartedly mentioned that we should keep in touch, and in return, I felt in her response, a silent whimper that hid behind somewhere a small heartbreak. When I got on the bus I thought of her and her gift and felt a bit shit so I thought it would be nice to let her know once more that I appreciated it. She instantly replied with,"I'm glad! But it's not something special, just so you know."
I got off the bus, took a sweet drag of my cigarette and laughed a bit.
