The Anatomy of Infidelity (2)

You see, I have this profound weakness for women with kind demeanors.

And happy dispositions.

And pretty faces and cute smiles.

And shapely behinds.

I like those qualities in the opposite sex (enumerated obviously not in the order of preference.)

I also treasure intelligence (I.Q.), but I don’t consider it (that much) when it comes to building relationships. In that aspect the emotional quotient (E.Q.) has more bearing to me. Besides, in my line of work, it is (almost) a given that a reasonable amount of I.Q. is possessed by everyone.        

Thalia (let me call her by the name of one my childhood fantasies from a mexican telenovela), represented one of the Latin American countries in the Ms. Universe pageant sometime in the 90’s. The political climate in her home country was unfavourable to her family, so they moved to Sweden for good. She was only 18 that time, and I could definitely imagine her looking like Thalia then, with the big hair and much bigger curves. Boy, she still does now! A certified 40 something MILF indeed.

I don’t like generalizing people but in my limited experience, Latin culture is definitely more open/sociable than the Nordic ones. No shit, Sherlock. It is the weather to blame, of course. Now, myself coming from a country that is touted as Asia’s Latin America, I easily got along with Thalia. I was even surprised that she knew about my country’s fucked up history: 300 years in spanish monastery and 50 years in hollywood. She told me she had to read a lot back then on international affairs, both past and current, as part of her preparation for the pageant. As a sidenote, I must confess that I always had misgivings for beauty pageants, fashion shows, and anything that has to do with exhibiting oneself under the scrutiny of subjective eyes, with subjective ideals. Nowadays, I view these shows as kind of artistic expressions, much akin to looking at and judging paintings in art galleries.

Going back to Thalia, we indeed “found” one another thru a common culture. During coffee breaks, we would talk about fiestas, siestas, santos, santas, penitencias, etcetera, etcetera. Although, my present atheism is known to her, she still finds it charming that I was once a sacristan (an altar boy) in our local parish. Of course, I brought her to giggles with my stories of how me and the other boys would drink the wine used in the mass (I can still remember the brand of the spanish wine, Mompo) at the back of the church. Or when we wandered out at night out in the fields wearing our white robes triggering rumours of white lady sightings in the entire village.

We both would have wanted to continue that platonic understanding between us, until of course that fateful shower incident.

About metromogli

MOGLi - A Brown in the Land of the Blues and Blondes
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3 Responses to The Anatomy of Infidelity (2)

  1. Smek this! says:

    Shower incident? Inte-resting ;D
    Yes, it’s me, Smek. Been away for 3 years now. Not much changed. Not here either?

  2. Smek this! says:

    I was shapely behind you all the time, LOL, not 😉

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