We took Buddy to the dog park. It was a lovely sunny day. Sam and I had “played up” (if you know what I mean) on Friday night, and we needed to get out in the fresh air... for the first time… since Friday. Oh, other than that lunch but that was just Hainanese Chicken Rice and Nasi Lemak respectively. We stood there with our sunglasses on.
When we were driving home, there was a bike rider coming towards us on the wrong side of the road, on our side of the road. As I like to say, that is the problem with the world, all the idiots.
“Look at this…” and then he got a bit closer and I could see the square jaw and the stubble and the handsome face… “um… er… cutie pants.” …the piercing eyes, the olive skin, the small riding shorts, actually, I didn’t see what he was wearing, but a boy can embellish… You know, so what if he is on my side of the road, sometimes you just have to cut people some slack, moi thinks to himself.
Terrible isn’t it, in truth, that the way someone looks affects the way others react to them.
Well? Um? Thinking about it, I guess not for the handsome. It’s not terrible.
What do we care if the beautiful get away with a lot more than we ever can? Good for them. Is it just jealousy? Or does the intrinsic unfairness of the situation matter? Does it matter? Or should we just suck it up?
Should we really give a shit because we know one day they will lose their looks and it will be relatively hard for them to cope?
I remember travelling around southern Europe with the amazingly handsome Canadian David and being told by gay accommodation houses, “The pretty boys don’t have to pay.” I guessed that just having David around would attract other gay men to stay in the establishments? I rode in on his coat tails... ta da.
Maybe it was just the come down? Nyr? The bike rider, the beautiful, and David? Who can say?
I smiled at Sam. He smiled at me. And none of it seemed to matter anyway.
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