Howie
sighed and sat down, cursing himself for another interaction gone wrong.
What did his fans see in him? Whatever it was, the women he pursued never
saw it. He tried so hard...maybe too hard. Just when things seemed to be
going his way, it would turn out that nothing was going his way. He massaged
his temples, trying to relax, trying to forget the countless girls he had
spent so much time on, the countless girls who seemed to forget him in an
instant.
Maria popped her head
around the doorway of the kitchen. She saw Howie sitting on his favorite
stool, slumped over the counter. She yawned and stretched, looking at her
watch. It was only noon. He was back so early from his lunch date?
"Howard..." she whispered
in mother-like tone. He slowly opened his eyes to see his PJ-clad friend
walk towards him from the guestroom. Well, literally her room, since she
slept over so many times. The guys and their friends had had another late
night after some party, so as usual, she had chosen to crash at his place
instead of driving home.
"Yea?" he weakly replied
as she detoured towards the fridge to get a drink.
"Where's Anita?" she
tepidly questioned, pouring herself a glass of orange juice
"I don't know, and I
don't care..." he replied, picking at his fingernails. She frowned and pulled
up a stool to sit across from him.
"Hon, yes you do..."
she whispered, holding one of his hands.
"Maria, I don't get it.
What's wrong with me?" he looked into her eyes, as if the answer would be
there.
"Nothing. Nothing is
wrong with you. Stop saying that all the time."
"Don't think I lied.
I truly don't care where the hell Anita has to run off to...or why the hell
she broke it off with me. Fifteeen minutes into lunch, Ria. I met her at
eleven on the dot. We sat down, she got this sympathetic look in her eyes,
and she was gone before a waiter could take our order..." he trailed off.
"Hon, forget about her..."
Maria personally wanted to find and slap Anita, but she pushed that involuntary
thought out of her mind. "Look, you don't care where she is, right? You
don't care about her. So let it go."
"What I DO care about
is this curse I seem to have. I repel women."
"Howie..." she tried
to reason with him, having heard his tirade many a time.
"Seriously, Ria. I must
have some stamp on my forehead that only women to see," he rattled off,
disregarding the fact, as usual, that he was talking to a woman. "It must
say 'Do not get close to this one, ladies. Something is wrong with him'..."
He made a motion to paint an imaginary banner in the air between them. Maria
rolled her eyes as he continued to complain and say what she had already
heard many times before.
She sighed and sipped
her drink, not sure what to say to him anymore. He never really looked,
did he? He had a handful of women to pick from, literally begging at his
feet. But he always chose the ones that she knew would hurt him. He kept
making the same mistakes. He had a type in mind, and no matter how many
of those girls burned him, it was as if he had tunnel vision. So he complained
about not having anyone.
But who did she have?
No one. Sure, she had her friends, but they all had their significant others.
She, on the other hand, felt that she was the one who was truly cursed.
And as wonderful of a friend that Howie was, he never seemed to realize
that. He'd sit and whine about his own misfortune, without putting anything
into perspective.
Hell, what was wrong
with her? She never asked herself that out loud as Howie always
did, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think it. She'd even wait for him if
he wanted; but he didn't. He wanted only what he couldn't have, rather than
see what was right in front of him. Not that she lusted for him, not that
she spent her days wanting him to be more than a friend, but what was the
harm in trying? Instead of making the same mistakes with the same girls,
why couldn’t he just see an opportunity in front of him? Maria's thoughts
ran rampant as she sipped her juice, seeing his figure in front of her continue
with the usual complaints. If he saw himself as worthless, then what could
she call herself? The way she saw it, he was a god compared to her. But he
just didn't get it.
"What do I do that turns
them off? I don't understand you women!" he exclaimed, most likely for the
hundredth time. Maria kept her mouth shut, trying to figure out what point
he had reached in his usual order of complaints. She knew she could never
help on this subject, so why try? She didn't know anything about relationships,
so there was no bother in trying to reason with him. "Maybe I should just
swear off women. Maybe if I stop trying so hard, I won’t get disappointed.
Maybe if I give up, I can get on with my life..." he sighed again, getting
up from his stool. He began to walk away.
"D, where are you going?"
Maria asked.
"Shower. I don't know..."
he muttered, briskly walking off to his room. Maria placed the empty glass
in the sink. She knew her way around well enough to find cereal, but she
had lost her appetite. She too retreated to her room...to write.
Days later Maria called
Howie to tell him her good news. She had been offered a new position in
a branch of her company London. It was only for a year, but she was ecstatic.
She had always wanted to go to London; now she could live there. Howie couldn't
have been happier for her, and immediately left to help her pack. Within
a month, she was off across the Atlantic, with promises to check her email
often.
Howie found himself alone.
Not just alone in the sense of lacking a girlfriend, but a vacant feeling.
His house didn’t feel like his home any more. The Boys had arranged another
party, but Howie had opted out. He had gone a few times after Maria had left,
but had come very close to making the same mistake with the same type of
women; at least he was getting smart enough to recognize his trend. Tonight,
ge didn’t feel like reliving those instances with different women at this
party, or worst yet, connect with someone and then be reminded of his curse.
It still troubled him, but he had tried to shove it off. And Maria wasn't
around to make him feel better. Usually, if he didn’t want to go, she's opt
to stay with him. But his best friend was now miles away. It only hit him
then, the realization that in the blink of an eye a physical distance had
grown between them. It had happened so fast...why was it all of a sudden
bothering him?
To kill time, he decided
to do some cleaning around his place. When cleaning the guestroom, he stumbled
upon a crumpled piece of paper...
please stop
please stop questioning all the time,
asking what's wrong with you,
thinking nothing will turn out right
cuz you're making me doubt myself
such a pristine creature sits and
whimpers
and my flesh and blood is so worthless
in comparison
so if in your eyes you are flawed
then what am I?
please stop making the same mistakes
looking for the same wrong people
and proceeding to blame all your misfortune
on your supposed worthlessness
cuz every question
makes me question
every doubtful sigh
makes me sigh
every negative thought about you
makes me think negatively about me
here I sit in front of you
with you pouring your heart out
all your troubles
all to me
cuz you can't find anyone
yet at the same time
refuse to see the person waiting in
front of you
isn't she eligible for your needs?
please stop thinking there's no one
for you
cuz if there isn't
what do I have left to live for?
It was Maria's
handwriting.
Of all times, why did he have to
find it now?
Without thinking,
he frantically tried to find his phone. He dialed a now-familiar number
and waited...
"Maria?"
.My.Stories.
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