One day I was invited to a friend. This has rarely happened, because most of the women I knew were afraid to show me to their husbands. I suspected that she wanted to set me up with someone, but I was not interested in that. I just went to visit, to distract myself and socialize.
So, yeah. He was the last one to arrive. We got acquainted and pretended not to understand why we, two lonely hearts, had been invited to this gathering of family guys.
John was embarrassed and blushing. He was a man of full build, and his unironed shirt gave away his bachelor status. And with the perfume the Khakhal obviously overdid it.
Next to us sat another couple who had recently met. Apparently, their friends had also brought them together. They were both wearing expensive clothes, but the woman was untidy. She was boasting about her financial situation, acting arrogantly, but she looked like an old grandmother. Her chosen one was exactly the same, and his sarcasm and braggadocio put me under a lot of stress.
His arrogance was justified, though-he was in great physical shape, good-looking, spectacular. The expensive suit looked good on him. He knew he would outshine all the men at the party.
And he did. He spoke beautifully, complimented and wooed other women, causing displeasure to his woeful companion.
After the feast, everyone started helping the hostess clean up the table, and I made coffee for the guests. And so it was just me and this arrogant man. He handed me his card and said I could call anytime.
I knew exactly what he was getting at. I thanked him, left my card on the table and went back to my guests. And then his woman burst into the kitchen… When she saw the card, she understood everything. That’s how I got the status of a kidnapper of other people’s men.
To blur the circumstances, I let the bumbling, overweight man take me home. It was more out of pity.
When I got home, the phone rang. It was my friend’s husband:
– I know he’s not your type. Can I come over? Are you alone?
I dropped it. What kind of men are these?
