A Handsome Face

My mother always told me I had a handsome face.

But in reality, I'm a passionless, uninspired loser. It's pretty weird if you think about it. To be gifted with such an appealing visage yet having no personality or anything of actual substance for someone to really bite into. Strange, right? Naturally handsome but unnaturally uncharismatic would be the best way to describe myself in the kindest way possible.

I lack passion in anything besides well, putting myself down and comparing myself to others, really. All of my friends have moved on to fruitful jobs, well managed hobbies, or have started families which, from what I hear, is the most bountiful gift mankind can bear. I wouldn't know.

I frequent a bar close to home called Spanky's. Their logo features a particularly plump pig in an apron wielding a butcher knife, apparently implying he's a butcher of his own kind. Sometimes I bring myself to chuckle at the macabre piece before I get smashed at the bar with just a few too many mojitos.

The trick to being and remaining drunk is to never "break the seal" or so I hear. Simple. Don't pee. Simple. I go to pee. Not so simple I guess.

Stumbling across the red, green and black worn down carpet, I see a woman. Now look, I said I have a handsome face right? Also remember I have no charm and at this point I'm more wasted than the 38th street dump where a couple dead bodies of some youth were found a couple summers ago. That's completely irrelevant though because I have a real woman here and she's looking at me. Her eyes beckon me, as if her eyes were a fishing hook and I was at the end of it, struggling to see if I could escape it just for a moment to go relieve myself.

I can't escape her gaze. As I approach her I sense my bladder expand tenfold, my confidence increase staggeringly and my pupils dilate to the size of apples. I have something to say.

"Um hi."

I blew it.

"Hey handsome. I'm getting cold just by looking at you shake. How about we go outside and get some fresh air."

I didn't blow it.

I don't usually do this, considering human interaction and I are miles apart in my mind. We take a siesta outside where the air conditioning isn't blowing my hair back like a toupee. I'm on the verge of puking and/or pissing myself but this woman, this one. Her name is Natasha. She sounds Russian? Latvian? Something like that but I'm unfamiliar. Turned on if anything. She tells me about how she loves men with substance. Men she can take a chunk from before she leaves them to wallow. A real heartbreaker I guess but who am I to judge? She's gorgeous! And her voice, her voice! Soothing to every sense I have which must seem impossible. Hearing her silky smooth voice puts me at ease, the feeling her words give me as they roll down my skin is like a massage or maybe a muscle relaxer. The aroma of her breath is like the fresh bloom of roses in the springtime and her lips have the color to match. Beautiful, bright, blushing, blood red; just begging to be bitten. I just wish I could grasp her.

I must sound like a creep. It's okay though this is all in my head in more ways than another. I must be dreaming! A gorgeous heartbreaker wringing words from my sapped soul. I wouldn't believe it if she was standing right in front of me. Wait. She wasn't. She really wasn't.

I take a look around. It's dark out considering it's no longer "five somewhere". I see a shadow move and her red dress flare into an alleyway. My time with her isn't over! It can't be! My first opportunity to prove myself beyond a handsome husk disappears into the alley and I soon follow.

In the shadow of dusk cast by Spanky's, I'm drawn to this familiar body. I can't escape her gaze but I'm not afraid either. Why would I be? She extends her arms, beckoning me to be wrapped in her entirety. I oblige. I wince.

I feel pain. I feel warmth. I feel pleasure. I feel bliss.

As we reconvene in this gloomy alley I relieve myself from the growing bladder issue I had at the bar. My body relaxes itself indefinitely and I collapse.

I begin to wake up in a still partially dark alley, completely sober. I look around. No one to speak of. My head, more lucid than ever begins to pound as I see myself covered in blood and urine. What happened to me? I feel the indents caused only by what looks like could be the teeth of a mad dog. I feel the indents throbbing, no, healing, closing. My days as a handsome husk, are over. My infinite bliss and unceasing pleasure were only truly momentary. Her entirety enclosed me but for a raindrop in my minds ocean.

I feel pain. I feel cold. Yet, my pleasure is gone.