Plushness

He was handsome but arrogant. Wasma had met him while waiting for her friend to finish her shift at the bank. She automatically discarded him in the ‘trash bin’, even though he greeted her with a big smile as he introduced himself. She translated his confidence to ‘I know I’m hot, and I know I can charm you’. She introduced herself, coldly, replying in words unsaid ‘You are not all that, you’re height is average, I know what you’re thinking, and it takes a lot more to impress me’.

Two months later, she bumped into a familiar face in a training workshop, not knowing where to place it. The face was handsome, and from his attire (he was slightly underdressed) the man seemed ‘down to earth’, clad in a plain t-shirt and khakis.

They started their session, and the instructor put them into their groups. Of course fate, as always, was teasing her- how and why, she cannot understand, but it was almost expected that she ends up with the attractive, familiar-looking, stranger – who then turns out to be a self-centered jerk. And there it clicked! She remembered him. He was the arrogant guy from the bank.

Other than 'the guy', the group she was put in consisted of one lady in her sixties, one lady in her mid forties, two ‘ladies’ in their late twenties. One of the younger girls seemed definitely out of place. Why her employer would pay for her advancement was beyond anyone’s grasp. The girl was filing her nails while on the phone during the first part of the lecture. This however rendered Mr. I know I’m Handsome the only male in the group. Of course he was used to this, and probably thrived on the attention. She hated him. She hated the fact that he was overly confident, but could not ignore him.

Once, twice, and three times, she looks up to find him looking at her, although neither of them were talking. He was not staring, just looking. As if trying to remember and finally he seemed to place her. His eyes were kind looking, to her surprise and although she was determined to keep him in the trash bin she had designated for him, he was etching out of it.

Ms. File My Nail (FMN) was paying him more attention than was imaginable. She was very attractive, and fun looking. He seemed uncomfortable at her inconspicuous attention, which brought him to Wasma’s immediate attention. This man has some humility. Their group session was given two hours to work on the assignment. By the end of the first hour, the Ms. FMN had actually put her hand’s on Mr. Handsome’s legs.

Wasma, surprising herself, got furious, and it showed on her face. She was actually jealous. Mr. Handsome on the other hand was genuinely trying to dissuade Ms. FMN from any unprovoked public display of affection, not because he was embarrassed but because he preferred discretion in the company of other potential women—Wasma.

By the end of the second hour, Ms. FMN had rubbed her breasts on Mr. Handsome, as if to reach for a paper on the other side of him. By that time, although he was still looking at Wasma with hopeful eyes, his body language welcomed the uninvited advances of the persistent girl.

In a way, this made Wasma happy, that her first judgement was correct. He fits only in the recycle bin, and she had enjoyed seeing him tormented by having to choose between two completely different girls. She knew however, that this will not be the end of Mr. Handsome.



P.S. too sleepy to proof read