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What The Hell

Posted on May 28, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

When he took off his shirt, he did so with pride because he probably saw a man in his prime when looked in the mirror. She saw a man who hadn’t given up on his body even though his body had given up on him. She thought it was attractive in a low-key, almost loser, sort of way. He was the kind of guy she slept with because it made her feel better.

He had lost the battle with his abs. Several layers of fat covered what was probably a decently stomach at one time. It was true that she could still see hints of the six-pack he sported in his halcyon days, especially when he remembered to hold his stomach in.

She knew that he would try harder than most of the guys she had what-the-hell sex with. She had been taking men’s breath away for long enough to know the effect she had on them. It didn’t make her vain but she liked knowing her place in the world. It was that rarified space that was only threatened when another beautiful woman entered the picture. He impressed her by being genuine about not becoming the guy who would be blown away by her looks but be determined to hide it.

They met in a bar that wasn’t quite open yet. She had been invited by the owner’s brother who was trying in vain to lure her into his bed. She liked him enough to share a drink or two with. If she ever got really drunk in his presence she might have even let him feel her up a little but she didn’t see herself getting naked enough to have sex with him. That would take more alcohol than she possessed the capacity for.

He had tagged along with a group from out of town who were being escorted through the nightspots by an over-enthusiastic host. The dude wanted them to see everything in every place he took them to. They were taken on tours of the dance floor, the restrooms, the DJ’s booth and the owner’s box. By the time she set eyes on him he looked exhausted and more than a little bored. When they were introduced little could be said over the sounds of the driving hip-hop so they settled for periodically nodding along to a song they recognised.

He didn’t look her way again until she turned up at his elbow and asked him if he was enjoying himself. He nodded, “It’s okay I guess. I have nothing to compare it to so this is good.”

“Wow.”
“What?”
“It’s rare to find a guy be honest about not having a good time.”

“I find over-enthusiasm exhausting.”

“Isn’t that a terribly depressing way of going through life?”

“I find shiny-happy to be a worse state of mind than scuffed and gloomy.”

“I’m sorry but now you’ll have to tell me why.”

“Because I don’t think I could go through life being wrong all the time and not want to eventually kill myself. The positive are always looking for the bright side. Such a thing does not exist. So there is no reason for people to walk around with smiles thinking everything will be alright when the truth is that everything will just be dead.”

“And I thought, I was cynical…”

“You probably are, you just don’t like that about yourself.”

“Or maybe you are an optimist and ashamed to admit it.”

It was the first time he really looked at her, “I have suspected it for some time. I just naturally never took it seriously since I’m supposed to be a cynic and all…”

“Of course,” she was smiling.

He responded with a smile of his own.

She stood up and much to dismay of the guy who had invited her out she linked her arm in his and asked, “Should we get out of here?”

“You understand I’m only in town for a week right?”

“You understand I didn’t just promise you sex or anything right?”

“You understand that I wouldn’t believe you if you did right?”

Her eyes flickered, “Okay, there might be sex but I cannot promise it will be any good.”
“I expect so little…you can’t disappoint me.”

“Great, let’s go.”

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