70. TRUE ROMANCE
“You’re never too old to grow up.” — Shirley Conran
After eating in comfortable silence for awhile, I asked Antonio how he was doing. Suddenly he started confiding to me about his dilemma with the current girlfriend.
I’d met the girl with him the last time I’d seen him at the beach and was duly impressed. A gorgeous, well-known Brazilian supermodel whose picture was on the cover of all the fashion magazines. She’d seemed like a pretty good egg to me at the time. Real down to earth and very spirited and natural for such a high class bitch. She had an open manner and an easy laugh to offset her almost intimidating beauty. A class act. I told him she seemed pretty sweet to me.
“Well that’s the problem, Cigano. This girl’s driving me crazy. She’s a little too sweet! And too open with her manners for my liking sometimes, flirts with other guys right in front of me. She was raised without any social graces. Very low class upbringing. And she’s bossy, faces me head on. Like a man.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, man,” I said. “Sounds like the girl’s just got some spirit.”
“Yes, well it’s a little too much spirit for me,” he lamented. “She curses like a sailor, and she eats with her mouth open. No class at all. And she has so many goddamned opinions about everything.”
He looked like a little boy who didn’t get what he wanted from Santa. I could sort of relate. Still I chose to play the devil’s hand.
“Opinions. Hmm. Sound like anybody you know?” I said.
“But I’m a man, Cigano. I’m very well educated. It’s different. It’s just not right, it’s not a woman’s place.”
“I never knew you were so old fashioned, Antonio,” I laughed.
“It’s not about being old fashioned, Cigano. But there are limits! Standards! She’s a pig!” He cried.
I laughed out loud.
“Seriously, Cigano! Before she began seeing me, she’d already spread it around to every other guy in the world. I’ve heard all sorts of things.”
“Promiscuous, hein? Hmm. Sound like anybody you know again?” I said again.
“Mother of God! Its not the same. I’m a man.” He whimpered.
I laughed. He looked at me with that good old ‘poor me’ hang dog victim look I know so well.
“So why do ya keep going out with her then, hein? Ever ask yourself that?” I said.
He looked around the little restaurant as if making sure nobody was listening. Then he looked at me again with a look of desperation.
“She’s got me, Cigano,” he whispered. “I am. Screwed! Please pardon the expression. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I suppose I’m sort of in love with this damned vixen. God help me.”
He really looked as if he was telling me he’d just been diagnosed with rectal cancer. I could understand. His whole world was going down the shitter. A confirmed card-carrying old-school Brazilian playboy can’t afford to fall in love with one of his “conquests.” It just goes against the whole program.
“So why don’t you just dig in and enjoy the ride, man?” I said, smiling widely. “Shit, Antonio, it’s good to be in love. It’s the best fucking thing in the world! What’s the big problem here?”
“That’s the point, Cigano,” he said. “I don’t want to be in love! Not with someone like her.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s just not my type.”
“And what’s your type, hein?”
He shrugged helplessly.
“Maybe she is your type and ya just didn’t know it before she came along.” I suggested.
That drew a blank, so I dug in a little deeper.
“Antonio, if you’re so hung up on this chick, there’s gotta be something going on.”
He was quiet again for a moment, seemingly lost in thought this time. Finally he looked at me with a bewildered expression.
“Maybe there is,” he said. “But, there’s just something missing.”
“Such as?”
“A certain innocence,” he said. “I want a girl who has … purity.”
Purity?
“You’re a sick fucking pervert!” I screamed, laughing till my eyes watered.
Antonio started to laugh too, despite himself. I’d got him. Takes one to know one.
“Jesus, Antonio, look at you, man! Ya meet a fucking soul mate, a beautiful intelligent famous young supermodel who fucks like a demon and hangs out like a man, who can drink you under the table, and she’s your equal in every other way too, a fucking female version of you. And she’s even got her own fame and fortune, so ya know she’s not some fucking gold digging whore! And you’re still not satisfied? Just because she was born below your fucking social class and had to hustle her way up? What? That’s not enough character for you? What the fuck? You should be thanking yer lucky stars, man! But no!!”
I howled with laughter. He looked at me with a look of horror that confirmed I totally had his number.
“But I’m not cynical like you, Cigano,” he pleaded. “ I still believe in true love. True romance, courtship.”
That one set off a new burst of hysterical laughter. Finally I caught my breath.
“You’re a fucking sex-crazed perverted old pussy fiend and a drooling love junkie. Just like me. But when the game goes to the next level, then suddenly ya don’t wanna play anymore. I can sure relate to that shit. This is exactly what me and Narcisa are practically killing each other over, trying to end the fucking thing. Neither one of us wanted to fall in love. Love is bad for business for people like us. We’re loners. But we couldn’t kill each other and we couldn’t kill the fucking thing either. No matter how hard we’ve both tried. And believe me, we’ve tried. Shit. It’s like were stuck with each other now. Fuck, man, that shit has really had me thinking a lot.”
“So what did you figure out with all this thinking, Cigano?” Antonio asked.
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2009
This new edition still smacks me upside the head and burns off the excess psychic horeshit!
horseshit, too.