Sunday, April 29, 2012
There is this man whose life on earth has neared three scores. He has had his share of money, booze and lust. How he gets them is no mystery, at least, to the people working around him. With his forked tongue and glittery words, he could talk his way to get any or all of these as much and as often as he wants.
Now this man, as aged as he is, lives like a bachelor. Whether he is married or not is beyond my knowledge. All I know is that he lives alone in a small room he calls his home and has different women come and stay any given number of nights. What happens behind his closed doors is the subject of whispers and nay says that buzz among men and women alike.
I would never have believed any of these murmurs if I had not witnessed it myself.
For the past few nights, a girl who’s not even two and a half decades old has been staying with him. They have shared the room and, as everybody else would assume, the bed as well. This assumption can’t be helped.
This young woman is very attractive. She’s skinny, tall, fair skinned and very pretty. Why she chooses to stay with him is an enigma to me. The mummers, as one would expect, have their own theory though.
I don’t care whether that theory is a fact or a mere speculation. Why I’m affected is because of this looming idea that scares me. What if, the only way for me to have a woman pay attention to me is to flash her with money? Will that make me the same kind of man he is?
I don’t want that. I just don’t want to be him. I only wish to find my own woman to love and care for, my own woman who will love me and care for me.
As cheesy as this may sound, it is a fact.