Not My Type

by Anna Zarlenga

  Well, oh, God… he is kind of attractive though, with his dark hair and blue eyes. And his lean, graceful body and strong, tanned arms… Cynical and jaded I may be, but I know a good-looking guy when I see one, even if I have got only one eye working at the moment. He does me the honour of taking off his fancy sunglasses and is looking at me with undisguised scorn. Who the hell does he think he is? It’s all very well being handsome, but he’s clearly about as a deep as a puddle in a drought. A man without consistency.

  ‘You’re an ignorant pig!’ I find myself laying into him.

  And it’s weird, because I don’t generally pick fights with

  strangers, but there’s something about this guy that brings out the worst in me.

  ‘I can live with that,’ he says, smirking like a naughty schoolboy, and then he turns his back on me and runs away like a pack of wolves were after him.

  You piece of… of …

  My brain is incapable of summoning an insult dreadful enough. But wait! Is he running away because he thinks, for some absurd reason, that I’m trying to flirt with him?

  I certainly get the impression he has an over-inflated ego, but if that’s what he thinks, it must be the size of a bouncy castle! Could he really think I was trying it on with him?

  The thought makes me laugh out loud: I can’t think of anything more ridiculous.

  Sorry, my dear, but you are definitely not my type.

  3

  Teo

  I’m already on my fourth glass of prosecco.

  later I will work off my bad mood with Monica or Teresa. Or Ramona, maybe.

  Not that it makes much difference, I don’t notice the

  details once they’re in my bed. Perhaps Teresa is a safer bet now that I think about it.

  ‘Do you want to finish this? You’re not going to get drunk on that piss. It’s just coloured water, even if they have charged me a fortune for it.’

  Oh look, my ex-friend has finally remembered me!

  ‘Why should you care about the alcohol in my blood? You never bothered to consult me about any of this rubbish, so I don’t see why I should listen to you. I will stick with the coloured water, thank you.’

  ‘Come on, Teo. Stop acting like a baby! Can’t you just be happy for me? ‘

  ‘No I can’t! We were Teo and Silvio, the Scourge of the Female Sex! The one-night-stand gang! And now you’re leaving me with Alessandro and Luca, who couldn’t pull in a brothel! We were a team! Now I’ll have to do twice the work. No more no-strings sex, Silvio! Do you realise what you’re doing? What you’re giving up?’

  The other guests are giving me some pretty filthy looks, but who cares about them?

  ‘No-strings sex really isn’t that great,’ he has the nerve to answer me.

  I cross my index fingers in front of his face. ‘Get back, Satan! Who are you? Where is my friend? The real one, not this impostor in front of me.’

  Silvio laughs and shakes his head. He doesn’t seem fazed at all.

  ‘I just grew up, Teo, that’s all. Maybe you should try it.’

  ‘I will never grow up,’ I reply with a shrug.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, but sooner or later it’s going to happen. One day you will meet the woman who will make you lose your head …’

  ‘And on that day the trumpet of judgment will sound to call the dead back from the grave. What you are describing is the end of life as we know it. Love and l are polar opposites. There’s not a woman alive who could persuade me to sign away my freedom.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I used to say,’ replies Silvio with a half-smile. The dopey git.

  ‘You are under the spell of a witch, there’s no other

  explanation. Can’t you see what she’s doing to you? I mean, look, I’ll be the first to admit she’s got a great pair of tits, but…’

  A slap to the face interrupts me, mid-sentence. ‘Don’t talk about my wife like that!’

  I roll my eyes in resignation. He’s a lost cause.

  ‘Forget it. There’s nothing left for me to do but to hit the buffet at this point. At least tell me you’ve sat me next to some tasty morsel at the table.’

  I see him hesitate a moment. ‘Well, Teo, you know I think of you as a member of my family…’

  ‘And…?’ I ask, smelling a rip-off.

  ‘You’re at the table with my wife’s sisters.’

  I heave a sigh of relief. ‘Well, if genes are anything to go by, they’d better watch out…’

  ‘One is married.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter to me!’

  ‘I’d rather avoid duels of honour at my wedding.’

  Ugh, fine. ‘OK friend. So I’ll concentrate on the other one. Sex in the broom closet hasn’t lost its appeal yet. Anyway, tell me… is she hot?’

  Silvio raises an eyebrow, as if searching for words.

  ‘She’s interesting.’

  ‘Great, she’s ugly. That’s great.’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ he replies defensively.

  ‘Oh come on, you don’t need to play these games with me. We’ve known each other for too long! An ‘interesting woman,’ to players like you and me, is just a nice way of saying she’s not worth bothering with. You know, I know. Everybody knows.’

  He raises a finger to silence me. ‘Ok, firstly, we are not ‘players’. I am not a womanizer. You might still be, but maybe it’s time for you to change your ways. Secondly, I can see why describing a woman as interesting might be confusing, from your perspective, but Sara is genuinely an interesting person. She’s not like other women.’

  ‘Are you sure she’s not just a sad singleton, looking for some poor schmuck to marry?’

  Silvio grunts, amused. ‘Believe me, there is no one less interested in marriage.’

  Really? I’m not sure I trust him on this.

  I run a hand over my chin doubtfully. ‘If she’s so great why isn’t she married?’

  ‘I just told you that she doesn’t care about getting married!’

  ‘Probably because she knows she’s got no chance and that no-one will ever marry her. That’s usually how it works with ugly women.’

  ‘Teo…’

  ‘Ok I’ll stop. I will make the best of a bad situation. Sara… if you add an ‘h’ it sounds almost like the name of a porn star… I bet she knows how to give a good blo-’

  ‘Teo!’

  ‘When did you become so moralistic? Are you telling me that your wife, in all the time you were engaged, has never given you a b-’

  ‘Will you stop it? Everyone is looking at us,’ Silvio hisses, pulling me aside. ‘It’s none of your damn business what Sonia and I do, and I certainly don’t think that all our relatives want to hear about it. Can you please shut up and stop talking bollocks, just for once?’

  I look carefully at what remains of my former ally of the Saturday night hunting grounds. What a pitiful end! I’m determined never to let it never happen to me.

  *

  At the table, for the moment, Sara is nowhere to be seen, and the suspense is killing me. Now I’ve mentioned the broom closet, the thought of an impromptu shag is seeming more and more appealing. ‘Why be bored when you can get laid,’ that’s my motto. I wonder if this Sara is easy enough to just give it up on the spot, or if I’ll have to subject her to my charm for half an hour? I wouldn’t usually have to waste more than ten minutes, but you have to account for circumstances. Weddings are not my usual hunting ground.

  I sit alone at the table, feeling slightly awkward and still wearing sunglasses.

  ‘You’re funny,’ a little boy with curly hair and freckles boy has appeared at my elbow. He looks at me as though he were carrying out an x-Ray of my soul. It’s creepy. I move my chair away slightly: I hate kids.

  ‘Bartolomeo-Jacopo! It’s rude to stare at people!’ his mother scolds him.

  Bartolomeo-Jacopo! Poor kid, his teenage years are going to be rough. I know what I’m talking about, with a name like Teodoro. Turning myself into Teo took all
the effort and the determination that a fourteen year old can muster.

  But who can Bartolomeo-Jacopo transform himself into? Not that it matters to me, of course.

  ‘But Mum, he’s staring at me too!’

  ‘It’s not nice to tell lies, Bartolomeo-Jacopo,’ I tell him. Whatever happened to respecting your elders?

  ‘But you are staring at me!’ he insists.

  ‘Am not!’

  ‘Are too!’

  ‘Excuse us. He’s a very stubborn child, aren’t you Bartolomeo-Jacopo?’

  What a name! This is how a mother can ruin your life. Bartolomeo-Jacopo. A future serial killer, for sure. I can’t help but laugh.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ demands Bartolomeo-Jacopo.

  I wipe away the tears and try to catch my breath. ‘Here, let me give you some advice, kid. When you get to high school, don’t let anyone call you BJ.’

  The mother flushes purple with embarrassment, but Bartolomeo-Jacopo does not bat an eyelid.

  ‘Why not?’ he asks me.

  Ah… blessed innocence! ‘Well, my young friend, when a man and a woman love each other very much…’

  ‘Bartolomeo-Jacopo, lets go to the bathroom,’ the mother interrupts us just in time, for some reason not appreciating my life lesson.

  ‘But I don’t need to go to the bathroom…’ he protests.

  ‘Yes you do,’ she snaps, pulling at his jacket.

  ‘I hope you gave him a middle name!’ I call after them as they disappear into the bathrooms. I imagine they will change tables when they come back.

  Good. I will be left in peace with Sara. Perhaps then I can start enjoying myself.

  ‘Here, young lady, this is your table,’ I hear at my back.

  I rub my hands: my tasty morsel has arrived, ready to be savoured. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice is not I expected at all; it doesn’t soothe my ears, or caress me like velvet. It is more like the shrieking of a crow that wants to tear out my eyeballs. Reality dawns: it’s that cow with the glasses.

  I turn around slowly, praying I’ve made a mistake, but my ears have not deceived me. There she is, in all her glory: a dark blue dress that not even my grandmother would wear, no jewellery, hardly any makeup and a ridiculous pair of glasses with a huge crack in them. My fault, perhaps, but that doesn’t help.

  ‘I said, what you are doing here,’ she insists.

  ‘Eating. Or at least, I would like to eat. But so far I have only seen salmon canapés. And I prefer caviar.’

  The girl glares at me with the one eye that can be seen from her intact lens. She doesn’t seem at all happy see me. Well, the feeling’s mutual!

  ‘But why are you doing it here?’

  ‘Because it says on the table planner that this is where I should sit,’ I say carefully, as if I were talking to a deaf person.

  ‘I’m going to throttle Silvio!’

  ‘That’s something we can agree on,’ I reply. If two plus two still equals still four, that is…

  ‘Sara!’ I hear a voice calling. And there it is. I understand now. Silvio must die.

  Thus summoned, the bridegroom appears among us.

  ‘Here you are! I believe you two have already… interacted, but I didn’t get chance to officially introduce you. Sara, I would like you to meet my good friend Teo.’

  ‘I have already had the pleasure,’ she hisses, with the air of someone about to tip over the edge and give him a good kicking. Another thing we have in common.

  ‘Well! Then I’m happy you two have met. Enjoy the rest of the evening, guys!’ he says, walking away.

  I grab him by the arm. ‘Interesting, is she, Silvio?’

  He gives a little smile. ‘Sorry Teo, I couldn’t just couldn’t risk you ending up in a closet with one of the bridesmaids. I had to take… precautions.’

  ‘Sitting me next to a hag?’

  I’m sure the person in question can hear everything, but I don’t care: this is a huge betrayal!

  ‘Be nice for once, Teo!’ my former best friend reproaches me with a pat on the shoulder.

  And then he leaves. Leaves me alone with a woman that no-one would touch if she had a bag on her head. A horrible woman who’s bad-tempered to boot.

  This is my idea of hell.

  4

  Sara

  I can’t imagine a worse day than this!

  Here I am, alone at the table with a moron who looks at me as if I had leprosy, and on top of it all, I have a terrible headache from wearing chipped glasses.

  I would kill my brother-in-law if it didn’t mean making my sister a widow.

  ‘I’ll make him pay for this!’ I mutter.

  ‘Oh, believe me, I’ll make him pay for it, too,’ whatsisname has the nerve to reply. What did he call himself? Teo?

  I can’t be bothered to answer. My patience levels are at zero right now. I haven’t even been able to console myself with food because I missed the buffet while I was looking for my sister. Wedding guests are worse than locusts when they catch sight of a free meal – by the time I arrived, it was all over.

  ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners to wear sunglasses at the table?’ I reproach him.

  ‘You’re wearing glasses, too.’

  Wow. Horrible and stupid. ‘Obviously I’m wearing glasses. I need them to see. Although I will say they were more useful before you smashed them up.’

  ‘Oh don’t exaggerate! And anyway, I’m not taking my glasses off because if I did I would be too irresistible.’

  He’s completely convinced of what he’s saying, I realise, with an odd mixture of emotions that ranges from outrage to amusement.

  ‘I hope you’re joking.’

  ‘Not at all. Do you want to see?’

  Before I can answer, he whips off his sunglasses with a self-assured flourish. It’s of those moves that should make me die laughing, but instead I feel a strange fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach.

  I felt it when I was talking to him before, too, but then I just attributed it to anger. Now it’s back, and it’s making me nervous.

  He has beautiful eyes, even though I would rather cut my tongue off than admit it.

  ‘Sara, won’t you introduce me to this handsome boy?’

  My cousin Simona appears from nowhere and starts eyeing Teo like a lion looking at a juicy steak. Teo is no better, with his lazily suggestive smile.

  ‘Introduce yourself!’ I say with a wave of annoyance. I’m not playing cupid to these two.

  Simona would definitely like to sample the delights Teo seems to be promising her, with a flutter of his eyelashes. Long lashes, perfectly framing liquid and penetrating sapphires. Not that I’m admiring them, for the record. It’s a purely objective observation.

  ‘Where did you leave your boyfriend, Simona?’ I ask with a pinch of treachery. Another one of the countless things I hate is good-looking people who think they can do as they like. As if being pretty is a justification in itself.

  Simona turns bile green, but tries to maintain her composure, although I’m sure she’ll make me pay at the first opportunity.

  ‘Who?’ she asks with a tight smile, resting her hand lightly on the chair of my hated neighbour.

  ‘I’m sure I saw you here with Alfonso. You were together until yesterday, or have I got that wrong? Look, there he is. Hey, Alfonso! Over here!’

  Alfonso, who is wandering around like a lost soul, lights up as soon as he sees us. He probably knows that it isn’t prudent to lose sight of his girlfriend.

  ‘Bitch!’ Simona hisses under her breath. I beam at her angelically, not at all upset. I am the family troublemaker, and I’m proud of it.

  ‘There you are! Where have you been hiding?’ Simona shows off her arts as a seductress, placing her hand on his chest. ‘I was looking for you.’

  ‘But of course!’ intervenes Teo. I think he has also understood the type well.

  Alfonso takes in the scene,
dubious. ‘I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Sara.’

  ‘I’m not her boyfriend!’ exclaims Teo, jumping to his feet.

  ‘I don’t even know him!’ I confirm instantly.

  ‘Of course he’s not her boyfriend. I mean, obviously…’ Simona interjects, giving me a poisonous glance.

  ‘And why do you say that?’ I ask, vaguely menacing. I’m genuinely curious to see if she has the nerve to continue.

  ‘Well, I mean…’

  ‘Simona, Aunt Gelsomina is looking for you. You know if you don’t go over and say hello you’ll be in her bad books for months. Sara, we have to go,’ Alfonso intervenes, pulling her by the arm. He must have smelt the scent of war.

  ‘Off you go then. A girl must always follow the advice of her boyfriend,’ I say cheerily as she passes by.

  ‘At least I have one,’ she whispers in my ear.

  Is it my turn to say ‘bitch’? Yes, I think it is.

  ‘Ah, the unbreakable bond that unites families! Your cousin is charming,’ says Teo with a hint of sarcasm, which makes him almost likeable. ‘She is right though, of course,’ he continues, ruining the effect immediately.

  ‘Would you care to explain?’

  ‘Well, she didn’t get chance to say, but she meant because of your appearance. And you have to admit she’d have had a point.’

  I try to stop the smoke from coming out of my ears and maintain my composure. ‘Go on…’

  ‘You mustn’t be offended. You are objectively unattractive. And just as objectively you don’t look after your appearance. You’d be completely at odds with someone like me.’

  I fold my arms over my chest and look at him with the one eye that is currently available. I have to get this straight.

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that you don’t consider this to be an insult. You realise, however, that as a statement it could sound very offensive?’

  He dismisses my sentence with a wave of his hand. ‘It is not my intention to offend, merely to point out the obvious. And, unlike your cousin, I’m not insinuating anything. You’re not attractive and I don’t like you. It’s a fact. Some people are attractive, some people aren’t. Besides, getting to brag about your engagement is overrated. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a tragedy.’