The way of men
1123 Words
*Pilar*
As I lay on the bed inside the tent, I initially felt hesitant about the idea of staying in tents. However, these turned out to be quite cozy. I needed some time to myself. Emilia and Matt are always so affectionate with each other, and now Nina seems to be continuously flirting with Nick. So, I retreated to the tent for some peace and quiet.
My phone pings again … not the first time … but I finally decide to pick it up. My energy is low, and I see a flood of notifications and comments. I hesitate to read them, as I know they will only bring me down.
It's strange, really. Compliments about my looks should make me feel good, but they mostly don't. I know it's just people trying to get close to me, attempting to use me. But I won't let anyone use me again. Instead, I will use them. They deserve it.
I receive another private message:
'You are so beautiful.'
I can't help but make a face, but I respond politely: 'Thanks.'
The message was kind enough, and perhaps that's all he wants to say.
'Where are you from?'
Okay, he is still being nice, and although I know where this conversation is likely to lead, a part of me hopes that there might be nice guys out there.
'Buenos Aires, Argentina. But I'm in Texas right now.'
I wait for a bit, noticing the sign that he's typing a response. I don't want to be misunderstood; I have no interest in him, regardless of his intentions. But the idea that there might be some men out there who aren't complete pigs or idiots gives me some comfort.
'Oh, a sexy Latina. You women are so spicy. I'm from Senegal. Do you know Senegal?'
I let out a sigh. I have nothing against any race or religion in general, but in my experience, these African men who write to women like this usually fit into one of two categories: scammers or desperate individuals. The good guys there are probably busy having an actual life.
'Yes, I know of Senegal.'
'Have you been to Senegal? It's the most beautiful country in Africa.'
I feel the urge to roll my eyes … it's always the same. I'm not quite sure yet if he's a scammer or just desperate. Maybe he's both.
'No, I've never been to Africa.'
'Oh, you need to come. You can visit and stay with me. Are you married?'
I know I should stop and block him or something, but it feels like I have to keep going, as if I started this and have to see it through. I know it's strange, and I find it odd myself. Sometimes it kind of feel like a drug.
'I don't have any plans to go to Africa, and I'm not married, but I'm not looking for anyone.'
I take a deep breath. Is this what I'm worth? I'm not that old, and I'm not unattractive. Why do these men think I'm desperate? That I am in want and need of a man.
'You should come. I love you so much.'
A groan escapes me. Do I believe in soulmates and love at first sight? Sort of, but not through a computer. Do I believe you can fall in love online? Sure, but not just by looking at a picture.
'No, you don't. You don't know me. I could be a total bitch.'
Some people might indeed think I'm a b***h, that I am a cold hearted ice queen and I admit that I often act like one towards these men. But it's a way to protect myself, to maintain distance.
'I can see that you're a good woman. You have a good heart, you're beautiful. I love you.'
'You don't love me. You like the way I look. It's lust, not love.'
It's not that I wouldn't want my partner to lust for me …of course, I would … but when strangers like me for my looks, I'm not sure why, but it makes me feel bad. Like hollow in some way.
'Yes, you're beautiful. Come here, we'll get married, and I will make sweet love to you.'
Eww, gross. Seriously?
'Uh, no thanks. As I said, not interested.'
I sigh again. Yup, the story of my life. I open another message from someone I have spoken to before.
'Any new pics for me, baby?'
*Nick*
"So, are you happy with the tent?" I ask Nina as she approaches the back lawn where I am standing. She's wearing jeans and a white blouse that perfectly complements her olive skin.
She gives me one of those half-shy smiles I have already noticed she often uses. "Yeah, more than happy. It's fantastic …almost better than my apartment."
"They are pretty great, aren't they?" I shift my weight to my other foot. "I heard you are a model, so I assumed you'd be used to more luxurious accommodations."
She tilts her head back as she laughs …it's a genuinely adorable laugh. "Well, I suppose I am, but I mostly do local work …small magazines and relatively unknown designers. I'm afraid I'm neither famous nor rich."
"Hey, as long as you enjoy doing it, that's what matters most, right?" To be honest, I'm somewhat relieved to hear this. Not that I have anything against models …I used to do some fitness modeling myself …but many runway models can be a unique type of women.
"You are right. And I can make a living out of it. I don't need a fortune or fame." She looks around. "So, you used to run the company with Matt. What do you do around here now?"
I nod. "Good question. Besides being the voice of reason, I guess I'm kind of like Zay's right-hand man, his beta. I handle reality, while he handles ideas and dreams."
"You make him sound like a big kid who needs supervision." She giggles softly.
"Well, that's a pretty accurate description." I can't help but smile. "Zay is a good guy. His energy is contagious. He just sometimes needs to be reminded of reality and its laws … not legal laws, but physics."
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. "It sounds like he's lucky to have a friend like you."
"Thanks." To be honest, I'd really like to get to know her better. "So, I was about to take the dogs for a walk and check on some things. Would you like to join me?"
"Sure, I would love to." There's that shyish smile again. "You know, to see more of the place."
I smile back at her, then turn and whistle. "Blue, Shed, walk time, boys!"
- Writer
