Wednesday 9 February 2011

The Heart Shaped Balloon & The Prostitute.

Am really supposed to be in bed, but I can't shake off that image from my mind. I actually woke up with it this morning, I need to get to the bottom of it, maybe writing about it will elucidate its persistent presence before my eyes.

Two things about me, I forget dates and names. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Anyway this must have happened some years back, maybe 3,4 years ago. Am not too sure.

It was St.Valentine's day and I was invited to some party. I turned down the invitation, I did not feel like being in a crowd. That same evening, I decided I was going to go and celebrate St.Valentine's alone. So I headed to this place that I quite like, to have a tête à tête dinner with myself. Something I enjoy doing. I don't mind my own company. I actually quite like it.

I was not even dressed for the occasion, I remember I had some khaki army pants and a large sweater, on. I looked as if I was about to join some battlefield not a Valentine's evening dinner.
I could have not cared less. I just wanted a nice meal by myself and was not there to make an impression. Besides, I was almost certain that all the women present would be dressed for the occasion, and boringly so...I guess I wanted to make it a point to look different - maybe unconsciously so, now in retrospect.

I knew the waiters there, I was a familiar face, albeit a curious one, but familiar nonetheless.
One of them rushed to greet me, and the first thing he did was hand me a rose and a red heart shaped balloon - wishing me a Happy Valentine.

A small band was playing, I was enjoying my meal and the music...things felt right.

Suddenly a friend, more like an acquaintance, passed by and he insisted we go down to some party happening in the basement of this place - a St.Valentine's party. I was not too keen on the idea, but seeing his pleading, I agreed. I made sure to take my rose and my heart shaped balloon with me.

The place downstairs was really crowded, everyone was carrying their own heart shaped balloon, the music was blasting, we stood at the bar, since no seats were available. I held on tight to mine. The dude I was with, disappeared outside to make a phone call. I was left standing there, watching people interact - another hobby of mine.

Next to me was standing a guy, he looked like a tourist, well dressed hugging a woman from behind. She was wearing a short low cut dress, half of her tits were on the bar, heavy make up, drinking champagne, and smoking. It did not take a genius to figure out that she was a hooker. The guy spoke to her in English and she did not understand one word, all she did was rub herself against him. It looked seedy and very cheap. I thought to myself -- this is not my problem, to each his own.

But this slut kept staring at the point of making me feel really uncomfortable...I tried ignoring her, fiddled around with my rose, waiting for this guy to show up from his interminable phone call and still holding on tight to my balloon. After all, I was no competition to her, it's not like I was going to snatch her client away or anything.

The whore lit another cigarette and kept staring at me...then she held her cigarette with her two forefingers, as if holding a sharp poisoned needle and pointed it in the middle of my heart shaped balloon, pricking exploded like a bomb and I saw bits of the shredded red balloon fly into the air only to fall on the bar like dead bloodied limbs.

She smiled with the satisfaction of a vampire, then turned around and kissed her client on the mouth, leaving a trail of her lipstick on his face. She turned back and stared at me, once more...

This time I did not leave her gaze, I held it there for what looked like an eternity, a quiet ice cold stare from me to her, as if magnetizing her, immobilizing her in her place. She lost control. I could tell. She flicked her ashes next to the ashtray, her glass nearly tipped on her naked bosom, her body stiffened and she was no longer rubbing herself against him, his arms let go of her, he started fiddling with his tie, she started pulling down her dress, re-arranging the scene...and I would not let go...I kept at it, till he finally said to her - come let's leave now.

So they left...and the shredded pieces from my heart shaped balloon laid there, amidst empty lipstick stained glasses, cigarettes butts and ashes left by a prostitute - a merchant of love.