Spaniard

Today I was listening to some music. I sat at the Alster and watched the sailing boats surf in circles across the pond.

Walking back, I took the route down Kennedybridge and turned right at Schwanenwik onto Eilenau, where this young couple passed me by.

The guy was tall, blond, and boring-looking.

The woman was short and feisty, in a Spanish way, with brown-but-sparkling eyes, dark locks rolling down her back past her shoulder blades, a tan, pointy face and legs revealed by the really very short cheetah-printed dress she was wearing.

I was dressed in my older brother's dress pants, which he wore one time for his confirmation day but never since, a white t-shirt and that old flannel button-down my friend Max gave me.

I glanced down my wrist, looking for my hair tie; there it was, which could mean only one thing: my wild-man's mop of hair must indeed have been in mullet-mode.

Looking back, I'd like to think that it was due to that, but her looking me in the eyes for a second or two might have been due to any other thing as well.

Her eyes sticking to myself and dripping down like honey, on the other hand, dropping deeper and deeper, almost as low as my shoes but not quite, moving up, resting, and then returning to my eyes again, dragging a sly smile of clenched teeth and slightly separated lips behind them, could not have been anything other than an expression of her desire to have immediate sex with me, if things just had been different in regards to the boring blond dude, and that could only ever be due to your pristine hair cutting job, Max.

Unaccustomed to a situation like this, I froze.

The "General Guidebook of Everyday Conduct for Functioning Sociopaths with Narcissistic Tendencies," which made up most of my adult education, never once mentioned how to respond to a southern-European woman asking you to have adulterous sex with her during blinding daylight in the middle of a street using her eyes only.

That book's a fucking scam, I say!

Anyways.

With the moment (i.e. them) almost passed, I made a choice, tilting my head a little, nodding towards the guy and giving her an apologetic shoulder-shrug.

She passed with a smile, and her boyfriend didn't even seem to notice me.