Saturday, June 9, 2012

Do(ugh)nut

What am I doing here?

I’m in a country I don’t know, working with people I’ve never seen before, discussing a topic that I’m not even sure I’m interested in anymore. And yet, here I am, walking down the only street I know, trying not to feel like it’s all a waste of time.


And then I see this famous donut shop, and I realize that even though I’ve been there for weeks, I haven’t even tried a donut. I never even thought about it, even though I walked down that street probably a dozen times since I got here. Apathy? Perhaps.

Maybe I should just go home.

The thoughts are still circling my head, giving me no respite, as I walk into the shop and decide to maybe try one of the donuts. I walk up to the counter and...

...you know what? I’m sure you’ll think I’m exaggerating, or maybe you’ll roll your eyes when I say it, thinking that I’m just another person spouting off nonsense, or perhaps I was in a deeply impressionable state, but I’m pretty sure that the girl I saw working at the counter that day was one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen.

Sure, I was in a country that was quite known for its beautiful women, and I’d seen quite a few of them, but none had grasped my attention in the way that girl did. She had this simple, unaffected air about her, compounded by her natural beauty and that gentle smile she wore as she took my (largely flabbergasted) order. I watched her work deftly, her delicate fingers extracting the donut from amongst its equally delicious brethren, then concoct a strong mug of coffee that was already looking good even before I took the first sip.

I thanked her and walked to one of the empty tables, still unable to get her off my mind. Of course, I start to construct scenarios, about how I might approach her and maybe ask her out. Of course, it was all ridiculous; I’d never asked a girl out before, and my pseudo attempts all ended in failure, so I didn’t really think I’d have a chance with a foreign attractive girl. But, still, my brain wouldn’t give it a rest; kept thinking about how I might act interesting, or funny, or - God help me - interestingly foreign. But, the same brain that kept telling me I should do it, also relished exposing to me the various cruel methods of rejection. She’ll say no. She’ll look it you funny. She’ll laugh and shake her head. Etc, etc..


So, yeah, of course I walked out of there without doing anything, and I never saw her again. What did you expect? A happy ending? Those are for the luckier ones among us, folks.

See you later.

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