‘Wow, what do you expect me to say to that? “Thanks for your honesty”?’
‘You should, yes. This is very difficult for me. I’m not really in the habit of spending time with women who I can’t… I don’t know if I can explain…’
I snort and shake my head. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘I think you’ve explained yourself very well.’
‘Still, I guess it’s not much fun for you, with all these hot women…’ he gestures vaguely around the room.
‘Well, I had to come. The bride is my sister.’
‘So you really are related … Incredible, you’d never guess it to look at you,’ he shakes his head and gives me a compassionate look.
‘Oh, stop exaggerating,’ I snap at him, but there’s no real anger behind it.
After so many insults, you’d think I’d be ready to knock his teeth in by now, but it appears not. Maybe it’s because he genuinely doesn’t seem to think he’s being insulting. He’s just absolutely convinced of being right.
Now, I could launch into a tirade about the value of interiority with as opposed to exteriority, but frankly, I’m exhausted and to be honest, he doesn’t look like he cares much about interiority. He even seems proud of the fact.
‘Don’t try and dream up arguments to use on me, it’s making your forehead wrinkle. Try and focus on something that will smooth out your expression… ‘
‘Botox doesn’t interest me, thanks. You lose all the emotion from your face,’ I say, disgusted by the turn that the conversation is taking.
‘Emotions are overrated in this world,’ he opines.
‘That sounds like something you read on the internet.’
‘In think I might’ve read it on Facebook, actually’ he confesses, with such a candour that I laugh in spite of myself.
‘You’re a weird guy.’
‘Never said I wasn’t. I challenge anyone to be weirder than me. But isn’t there anything to eat here?’
He’s right, actually. We have been at the table for a while now, and there hasn’t been so much as a whiff of a canapé. My headache has worsened, and the monocle effect is only making it worse. I take off my glasses, which have now become a nuisance. Unfortunately my eyesight is extremely bad without them.
‘Hey, you should start using contact lenses,’ Teo says. Or at least I think it’s him, given that I can’t really focus, which is perhaps for the best. Those eyes are a distraction that I don’t need. All things considered, I decide to resign myself to being half blind for the evening.
‘Contact lenses annoy me.’
‘Well, like my grandmother used to say, “If you want to be beautiful…”
‘I never listened to grandma’s advice,’ I interrupt him.
‘Now that you mention it, neither did I. You do have beautiful eyes, though.’
I turn in my chair. ‘What? What? Is that a compliment?’
‘No, it’s just a statement. I still wouldn’t sleep with you if the future of the human race depended on it.’
‘Good. I was getting worried. I thought I was like Clark Kent, taking off my glasses and breaking hearts.’
‘You’re not Clark Kent.’
‘I hope not. Clark Kent with boobs!’ I say. And I blush. What’s got into me? Why am I talking about my boobs to a perfect stranger?
‘Is that right? I can’t tell under that dress.’
‘Have you stopped insulting me?’
‘I’m not insulting you, I’m just making…’
‘An objective observation, I know,’ I snap. I’ve had enough objective observations for one evening.
There’s a noise coming from the back of the room. What’s going on? I can’t see a thing.
‘What can you see?’ I ask my neighbour.
‘It seems that they are preparing themselves for the grotesque ritual of throwing the bouquet and garter. Isn’t that usually at the end?’
‘My cousins are hyenas. They’ve been doing high jump training for days. I bet they pestered my sister to bring it forward. I expect a bloodbath.’
‘Aren’t you going to venture into the fray?’
‘Me? Not a chance! I have zero interest in marriage. It’s all a waste of time as far as I’m concerned.’
Silence. Too much silence. What’s going on inside his head?
‘Well, I have to say I agree with you. So… what do you say to getting out of here before someone forces us to participate? You know how it is… they might make me take the garter,’ he says, grabbing my hand. His hand is warm and strong. I pull back a little, instinctively, but he doesn’t let go.
‘Don’t worry, your virtue is perfectly safe with me.’
I burst out laughing. ‘You think I’d let you try?’
‘Believe me, if I wanted to you wouldn’t be able to resist me,’ he says, dragging me with him.
I hate myself, but I’ve no option but to follow him. The throwing of the bouquet is just too much.
And so, while the others celebrate, I let a total stranger, who is a total arsehole into the bargain, drag me away among the hedges in the garden, all to escape a pointless ritual.
5
Teo
I don’t know what’s got into me. Maybe all that prosecco I had has finally got me drunk, or maybe Silvio put drugs in the canapés, I don’t know. I am not in the habit of sneaking off behind the bushes with ‘interesting’ women. Never. And yet, for some reason, I decided to drag Sara away with me, even though I have absolutely no intention of any funny business. I mean, obviously I don’t. She doesn’t even reach the minimum requirements that I consider fundamental in a woman. I suppose it did it out of pity.
Yes, that’s it. That explanation is rather comforting. I do have a heart after all, hidden away god knows where. Still, I should try to remember in future that cheap booze doesn’t do me any good.
‘Where are we going?’ Sara asks me, clinging to me tightly with her little hand. She is half-blind, of course, because she took off her glasses. I couldn’t have picked a more pitiful recipient for my charity! They’ll probably make me a saint after tonight.
‘We’re hiding from the partygoers. I thought that was what you wanted?’
‘Well yes, but we’ve been going for ages. I’ve never known a place with so many twist and turns!’
‘The whole point of a garden like this is so the guests have plenty of places to hide and get up to mischief.’
I get a slap on the forearm. ‘What would you know about it?’
‘Why do you think Silvio chose this villa? We were going to sneak off behind these trees with a couple of bridesmaids.’
‘Ha! I can believe it! I’ve never met such a pair of horny freaks.’
‘We’re just … in love with life, that’s all. In love with life and sex! Or rather, Silvio was in love with life and sex. Now he’s just going to let his tool rust.’
We stop. There is a little orange grove at the end of the garden garden that shields us nicely from the prying eyes of the guests. Of course, it’s always possible they might come looking for us, but judging by the sounds of laughter coming from inside the villa, it seems like they are all too busy enjoying themselves.
I sit down on a bench and Sara does the same, perching herself at the opposite end to put as much distance between us as possible. That’s fine by me. I can’t make myself pretend, and there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight, so it’s not like I’m actually enjoying being here with her.
Ok, maybe that’s not entirely true. I’m having fun because this Sara and I both hate weddings in the same way. But for me it’s not true enjoyment without the promise of something more at the end of it. Just an idle distraction. Relaxing, though.
‘Tell me something,’ she says, staring out into space. Needless to say, she probably can’t actually see anything beyond the end of her nose, but her lost gaze gives her an intellectual air. A slightly fussy intellectual, maybe.
‘Go on,’ I reply, relaxing on the bench.
‘I
f you hate relationships so much and you think Silvio is making a terrible mistake, why are you here?’
‘Why are you here?’
She turns and stares at me, serious and trying to focus. I look away. Those eyes, green and slightly elongated, they’re really not bad at all. Shame about everything else.
‘What a question! Because I love my sister and I will always stand by her, even when she decides to do something stupid.’
‘Well, there you go. It’s the same for me.’
‘So you are human after all!’
‘Of course I am, what did you think? In fact, I’m such a nice guy, someone should nominate me for the Nobel Peace Prize,’ I say, grinning.
‘Your jokes are terrible, did you know that?’
I laugh without embarrassment, and it’s liberating. I can’t remember the last time I just chatted to a girl without expecting something in exchange. I’m surprised to find that, after all, I quite like it.
‘No one has ever complained about my jokes before, believe me.’
‘If I understand the type of woman you’re into, I’m not surprised. All looks and no brains is what men like you go for.’
‘Hey, Silvio and I used to look for the same kind of woman, and he ended up with Sonia, so I’m not sure you want to carry on down that road. Unless we’re putting your sister in with the brainless bimbos,’ I point out to her. She doesn’t look around.
‘Look, just because I love my sister doesn’t means I don’t know her faults. But she is a trusting and open-hearted person and she’s genuinely in love. If Silvio makes one false move, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born. Consider that a promise.’
She folds her arms under her chest, accentuating the curves of her body. Why has she bundled her herself up in that ugly dress?
‘He’d deserve it for leaving me to cater to the eager Friday night female population all by myself. Don’t you think that’s cruel?’
‘I can only imagine the level of responsibility you have taken on,’ she answers drily. ‘And I think you mean the female population minus one, seeing as Sonia is now out of bounds.’
I run my hand over my chin. ‘Minus two. Considering that
you’re not interested.’
What the hell am I saying? It sounds almost like I’m trying it on with her!
‘You’re right about that. I’m not the least bit interested,’ she confirms, without turning a hair.
Now, I know that I have said many times that she’s not my type. And she’s not. Not in any sense of the word. Categorically. Not for anything in the world. Ok? So that’s clear. I don’t like her.
And yet… her rejection offends me. Because it is a sincere refusal, not a tactic. It’s not like those women who pretend to resist you and five minutes later they’re on their backs. She is calm. She’s not trembling with anticipation, or gazing at me with desire, she neither admires me nor flatters me. She just sits there, on her end of the bench, resigned and tolerant. She is tolerating my presence! She, who should thank the god of love every night just for having the honour of sharing my air!
It is not possible. No-one can resist my charm.
No-one.
Why should she resist me? It is a question of principle. Of bloody principle. It cannot be that any woman, especially not one as unappealing as this, isn’t secretly longing to fall into my arms.
I consider implementing the Soulful Gaze, just to prove I’m not losing my touch, but there’s a problem: she can’t see properly, and besides, it didn’t seem to work earlier, when she had her glasses on. Should I resign myself?
‘You’re too quiet,’ she observes, jolting me away from my unlikely designs and back to reality. What was I thinking? It’s not worth wasting my time.
‘I was trying to work out if the massacre of the bridesmaids was over. But I still hear inhuman screams. What are they doing, preparing an altar for human sacrifice?’
Sara wrinkles her nose, listening to the noises coming from the villa. ‘I think more likely they’re delighting themselves with the group dances.’
I shudder at the thought. I did well to run away.
‘Oh God. That tribal ritual in which everyone pretends to be following the same steps and then stamps their feet at each other?’
She nods, with a half smile. ‘That’s the one! Where half of the group turns to the right and half to the left, and everyone ends up colliding. It’s just an excuse for overeating. No harm in that extra piece of chicken if you’ll be burning off the calories later.’
‘I know a much more enjoyable way burn to calories …’ I can’t resist… I have to know where I am going wrong and if I’ve really lost my appeal.
She looks up at the sky. Does not seem impressed. ‘I’ll ignore that. Can’t you be more original? I get that you’re proud of your… presence, but it’s really not necessary to remind me of it every five minutes. I believe you. You don’t have to try anything.’
‘I don’t want to prove anything to you!’ Of course, that’s exactly what I was trying to do, but there’s no need to be weird about it. My ego has taken enough of a bruising already.
‘It would seem the opposite, from where I’m standing,’ she replies, raising an eyebrow.
Ridiculous! Is she really accusing me of trying it on with her? Who does she think she is? I fold my arms across my chest and sit in silence. Unfortunately, silence and I are not well acquainted.
‘Anyway, what would you know about it? You don’t seem like an expert on human relationships to me.’ There, take that.
She doesn’t turn, but continues to smile that irritating, superior smile.
‘I’m sure I’m not an expert in the way you mean, but I’m close to enough people to understand some dynamics.’
‘You, close to people? They must be terrified.’
Her condescending smile turns dangerous. And damn it, the cruel curve of those lips makes me lose my concentration for a moment. I slap my forehead. I’m freaking out, no doubt about it.
‘Yes they are. And that’s how I like it.’
A shiver runs down my spine. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a sadist?’
‘I’m just strict, Teo.’
And I can’t help it. My mind processes conjures up the image of Sara with flashing eyes and a cruel sneer, subduing the first unfortunate who crosses her path. Disturbing.
‘So you keep people away?’
‘Only those that don’t interest me.’
‘And you’re not interested in me?’
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I can’t blame her.
‘I’d have thought that was obvious. Just like it’s obvious you’re not interested in me. Or are you?’
What is she trying to say?
‘Of course I’m not interested in you, I told you before, didn’t I? Anyway, I bet you kiss like my grandmother.’
Sara’s cold composure cracks for a moment. ‘I do not!’
I smile to myself, pleased to have hit a nerve. ‘Here we go! I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re the princess who resurrects the prince with the kiss of true love?’
‘That’s not even how it works. It’s the prince who resurrects the princess. I think you mean the one with the frog. Where the princess kisses the frog and turns him into a prince.’
‘But the opposite would happen here,’ I retort, gesturing towards the shapeless outline of her dress. I really am an arsehole, and I’m not sorry.
In reply, she crosses her arms again, highlighting her curves. I look away.
‘Besides, who’s to say the frog wouldn’t be a better kisser?’ And she flicks her tongue out at me.
I turn sharply to look at her. ‘Well, well, a dirty joke. So you do have a libido in there somewhere.’
‘Of course I do, except that unlike you I know to use it .’
‘So would you say you kiss as well as, or better than a frog?’
‘Better than you, that’s for sure.’
I shake my head. ‘I
doubt that very much.’
‘Seriously, there’s no competition between us, and I’m not interested in getting into a debate about it, so I say we should just leave it at that and go back inside,’ she replies, getting to her feet and starting to walk… in the wrong direction.
I walk after her and grab her by the hand. ‘The ceremony is over there,’ I point out, and she blushes slightly.
‘I know that!’ she replies, trying to free herself.
I don’t move, continuing to keep her hand captive in mine.
‘What is it?’ she asks doubtfully.
‘I have a high opinion of myself.’
‘So?’
‘I can’t tolerate anyone telling me I can’t do something where I know I excel.’
She catches my meaning. ‘Do you want to kiss me to see who is best? Do you realise how ridiculous that is?’
‘What is it, are you afraid of not standing up to the comparison?’
In response, she climbs onto a cut log, and takes my face between her hands.
‘No fear, just awareness,’ she says, putting her lips on mine.
I should be triumphant, because I got her to kiss me, but I’m not. Instinctively, I put my arms around her and pull her close. Her body is small and soft, and strangely it doesn’t disgust me.
I open my lips and find no resistance. Her eyes are closed and I close mine too, hoping that by imagining her beautiful and slender, this unusual sensation will pass. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like a feeling of vertigo, of falling.
Her tongue is soft and enveloping and moves around mine with a maddening and calculated slowness. Her little hands hold me gently, and I find I don’t want her to let me go. I’m too busy trying to analyse this bizarre situation for one. For the first time in my life I’m not leading the game, and I don’t know if I’m horrified or thrilled. This woman is the polar opposite of my ideal conquest, and yet here I am, pinned to her lips by an impudent kiss. I should feel defeated by this. It is a clear demonstration of my inferiority, but somehow I don’t care. She has a skill, and there’s nothing left for me to do but take advantage of it.
Not My Type Page 3