I finally acknowledge to myself the truth as I carefully select my underwear.
The secret to feeling good is to feel comfy in one’s underwear. I reach in the drawer for my favorite boxer shorts but let my hand hang over it. ‘You don’t have to overdo it na’ I say to myself. It is true that I have come to accept the truth about the motive behind my dressing and have stopped fighting it, still I needn’t go overboard.
I pick another of my boxer shorts, pink with flower design, another of my favorites. Next, I reach for the Axe deodorant — it is one of her favorites — and spray it on.
Few weeks back, I would have been in a state of internal turmoil, resulting from shouting matches between two separate and equally stubborn halves of me. The one would be the prosecuting counsel in the ongoing courtroom brawl; pointing at the immorality of my actions and motives. The other, the defense counsel, doing an excellent job of causing ‘reasonable doubt’. Its arguments do not have to be logical or sound, and most often than not, are wrapped in oversized bags of sentiments but it always wins.
Well not always. But it never loses.
Not today. Today, there is no argument, no rhetoric; no apologetics. It is amazing what accepting the truth can do to you. It brings peace and lightness of heart and mind.
I rummage through my closet and find the right Tee shirt I had picked in my head since I woke up and remembered that I was going to be seeing her today. I debate about wearing the new sneakers I had just bought but again I resolve not to overdo things.
I am fully dressed and look in the mirror. I like what I see, from the black tee shirt fitted snugly and outlining ripped muscles and tapering waist over black jeans fading at the knees and a black suede loafers, to a well-trimmed side burns and beards framing well chiseled face.
I hope she likes it, I think.
I had finally accepted that in the past two months, the choice of my outfit were always influenced by the desire to Impress her.
We work together in a large institution where we don’t get to see every day, but each day, in the last two months, I dress with the hope of running into her. She has complimented me once or twice on my appearance and I always want to keep her impressed.
I want her to admire me, to be dazzled and to drool.
Which is absurd.
Because I am a married man. These are dangerous thoughts and are the first steps in the wrong direction.
I know that and yet I can’t help myself; I am smitten. Boys with crushes always have an insane need to impress and dazzle the object of their crushes. It is an instinctive drive, with origins in the unconscious and without any form of conscious control. It is as ancient as time, the mating dance. The male peacock, displaying its majestic feathers and strutting in front of the female. Its goal is to get the female to notice it and then to woo her.
I turn from the mirror and spray my dress with my perfume. I smell good
She loves men that smells good.
I pick my car keys and head out– a human peacock.