There is that day. It's late in the night, the class is over. A small bunch of us is waiting in front of the porch. That man is here too. The wind blows, i'm cold. I'm watching around, i could do with a little comfort. A soft piece of affection. Human warmth, in the end of that tiring day. I focus on that man. I'm getting closer, by little steps. I smile sadly, and jokingly say : "I'm a bit cold". He opens his arms timidly. And i wrap myself, encompassing him with my own. On that moment i feel safe. I needed that. Behind me another man gets close. He brags vulgarly and giggles at me : "Hey! Me too i could do with some comfort, don't you want to snuggle up against my chest too". That second man has his charms. I observed he was a good dancer. But He never watched me dance or said hello with envy. I'm thinking : "You can shoot around buddy, you'll never catch me". I'm for the fisherman.
samedi 24 mars 2012
Listen (fishermen's tale)
I'm a woman. I go to that dance class every thursday. I'm amongst familiar faces. I say hello to all when i arrive. I've talked and know a little part of everyone's story. Each male member made me dance at least once. And there is that man. He's not unforgetable. Nor pretty, nor talented. But he is smiling and polite in my presence. He innocently proposes me to dance, regularly. He sometimes speaks veiled compliments to me. We're not intimate, he's just a man from the dance class. Amongst others.
There is that day. It's late in the night, the class is over. A small bunch of us is waiting in front of the porch. That man is here too. The wind blows, i'm cold. I'm watching around, i could do with a little comfort. A soft piece of affection. Human warmth, in the end of that tiring day. I focus on that man. I'm getting closer, by little steps. I smile sadly, and jokingly say : "I'm a bit cold". He opens his arms timidly. And i wrap myself, encompassing him with my own. On that moment i feel safe. I needed that. Behind me another man gets close. He brags vulgarly and giggles at me : "Hey! Me too i could do with some comfort, don't you want to snuggle up against my chest too". That second man has his charms. I observed he was a good dancer. But He never watched me dance or said hello with envy. I'm thinking : "You can shoot around buddy, you'll never catch me". I'm for the fisherman.
There is that day. It's late in the night, the class is over. A small bunch of us is waiting in front of the porch. That man is here too. The wind blows, i'm cold. I'm watching around, i could do with a little comfort. A soft piece of affection. Human warmth, in the end of that tiring day. I focus on that man. I'm getting closer, by little steps. I smile sadly, and jokingly say : "I'm a bit cold". He opens his arms timidly. And i wrap myself, encompassing him with my own. On that moment i feel safe. I needed that. Behind me another man gets close. He brags vulgarly and giggles at me : "Hey! Me too i could do with some comfort, don't you want to snuggle up against my chest too". That second man has his charms. I observed he was a good dancer. But He never watched me dance or said hello with envy. I'm thinking : "You can shoot around buddy, you'll never catch me". I'm for the fisherman.
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This is interesting, I could picture the scenes as I read, the warmth of a summer and the chilly evening breeze which forms couples.
RépondreSupprimerStories can be grasped anywhere, my purpose was to show how for that woman what matters and builds a good image of someone are the little recurring words and gestures, glances and smiles, proving implicitly that the guy is interested, even if he doesn't say clearly he feels something, and the woman, even if not replying right away, notices it, and when comes a choice, a need to get closer with someone she is choosing the patient one (the fisherman) instead of the direct and easy one (the hunter), nothing is left unheard, it can be stored, even unconsciously, in the mind, and helps to take a decision when the right time, when the need comes, you go to the one that makes you feel good about yourself, and not the one who coldly thinks only about himself.
RépondreSupprimerThis is a particular story, about a particular woman, and stereotypes of men.