I was at a restaurant – one of those ‘classy’ ones which, quite proudly, bore the sign “Self Service”. As I was “waiting for my order” at the delivery counter, a strikingly beautiful young woman in a vivacious velvet dress approached the same counter to collect her own order. As I stood there waiting, as she reached out her peachy arms to collect the dishes that were being delivered to her, she made an (innocent) brush over my arms and shoulders; her curly locks soon following suit, whisking her aromas all over me -- like a shaman spreading the spell of incense with the feathers of a peafowl.
However captivating this moment may seem, I was surprised, or rather perturbed by how I reacted.
I uneasily moved aside with a shudder and a look of disdain lighting up all over my face.
I realized that at that very moment, I had learned something more about myself; ventured a little deeper into the depths of me; understood a little more of the inner mechanisms of me.
I unraveled the mystery why I was oblivious to the (innocent) pleasure the moment had to offer which was obvious to any other young man (with his balls intact).
Why?
The feel of a young woman, her touch, her smell, her sound or even her sight fills me with contempt.
Like a bare-footed old tramp disdaining any footwear …
Like a hut-dwelling flower-girl displeased to sleep inside a duchess’s plush bedroom …
Like an old habit scoffing at a new one in the making …
Like a man in darkness cussing at a gush of light …
…
I am too young, my friends say, to even vaguely worry about "issues like these". Nevertheless, I’m sure that as years pass, I shall make it increasingly harder for any woman to enter into my life (or vice versa). Nevertheless, I may one day wake up and realize I’m too old for anything, or still worse, roll over and see the wrong woman – a wrong wife – sleeping across my bed – either blithely ignorant or fully aware of the mistake I made in choosing a life partner – both for me and for her.
…
They say focus is the ability to, out of 100 things, see just one and not see the 99 other. I must say that I have conditioned myself to have acquired a strong sense of focus. And I attribute all my success, however significant or insignificant it may be, in my professional life to this unwavering focus I have hitherto developed.
But all the things I have focused on, from time to time, were missions that well bore both the clarities of objective and deadline.
No wonder my constant and heedfully logical act of self-conditioning has left me unable to handle any romantic relationship hitherto.
For a romantic relationship can possess neither an objective nor a deadline.
For a romantic relationship can possess neither an objective nor a deadline.
But there shall be one thing I’m fortunate about...
I shall know with utmost certainty when love flutters its first wings inside my world purely built on rules, logic, purpose and reason.
For that love shall be in its purest form – devoid of any rules, logic, purpose or reason. And I shall then travel to a world beyond my own.
...
...
Meanwhile, as I “wait for that order”, I shall try to learn and appreciate the pleasures of all the brushes and whisks made by all vivacious velvet clad beauties…
May be this is (also) what they call “Self Service”.
