She was standing at the concession stand deciding between Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or Twizzlers when she noticed another type of candy: the man behind the register. He was a different kind of handsome—not classic, not trendy, not even her usual preference: he was his own brand of fine. She was so mesmerized by him that when he asked for her order, at first she didn’t understand the question. Who knows how long she would have stood there gazing at the man if he hadn’t repeated himself: “What would you like?” Four inappropriate answers flashed through her mind before she remembered she was there for food. Embarrassed, she quickly completed the transaction and rushed inside the theater. She followed the plot as best she could but her mind kept wandering back to cutie pie. As soon as the credits began to roll she made a mad dash for the exit hoping to see him again. To her surprise, she didn’t have to find him—he was waiting at the exit for her. “Good evening. My name is Keith. Here’s my number in case you’d like to call me.” Again she gazed, mind wandering; she simply couldn’t look away from his beauty. Who knows how long she would have stood there contemplating baby names if he hadn’t interrupted and offered his number again. However, after two weeks of conversations she had to accept the unfortunate reality that his beauty was only skin deep. He had a distrust of women that bordered on hatred and she quickly grew tired of defending herself against his constant suspicions. She informed him, “You won’t be happy until you meet a woman who fits your definition of what a woman is. Sadly, you have very low expectations of women and I refuse to meet them.”
April 9, 2013
