The Beauty and The Beast

Tonight, my best friend and I visited a single match website. We call it here, meat market. He was looking for young girls, the prettiest on-line, girls who wanted a serious relationship, most of the girls from the suburbs.

Looking each picture was like beauty contest. I wasn’t so excited about the idea or making the research of girls with my friend. Despite the fact I like women, I didn’t feel very comfortable. Not because of the age of each one but the “beauty” I don’t have.

I asked my friend if I had a beautiful body, if I was cute or at least not ugly, if he thought I was fat or skinny. He closed the website and asked me in a very gentle way what was going on with me. I replied with some tears in my eyes that nobody finds me beautiful. I asked him what we have to give or show to women to be in the group of “the chosen ones”. Do we have to a status in life? A social position? An amazing salary? A beautiful body?. Precisely the things Diane told me weren’t necessary to build a relationship.

The same things went against me and broke me down. The things I don’t have and I believe they’re important in life. Or maybe I believe they’re important because I look the world not with my eyes but bitch’s ones.

I asked my friend if I have a beautiful body, as he says, why Diane never wanted to see me again. “Maybe she has other reasons”. Maybe, who knows.

Those criteria of beauty, which goes far from the body, woke up in me the mean beast I hide or, in other words, I put aside, when I’m down. That beast who says I’m not beautiful at all and I don’t have anything to offer.  

I wish I could tame the beast and put it into a cage away from my own happiness.

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