It’s that episode from Sex And The City when Samantha waits it out for Smith Jerrod at his restaurant, eyeing her opponent as her opponent eyed Smith Jerrod.
When I got to Café Revolucion she was sitting at my seat. I felt I had interrupted something, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Maybe she was filler, it was me he’d planned to meet. The back of her head fell with long blond waves, I knew she was surfer girl, I also knew from the back of her head that on the front of her face, her eyes were gazing intently at el surfista I had hoped would be gazing intently at me. Still, I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t going anywhere until he for which I had come was rightfully with me.
I looked muy bonita. Red skirt, short and tight, blue top, soft fabric said please touch me, black combat boots said don’t fuck with me; I am tough enough for your jungle life. My hair was perfection! The walk down the hill had it wind-tossed just enough to give the appearance I hadn’t just spent 20 minutes in the mirror.
The complexity I saw easily when he looked at me made him far from simple, but both his lack of power, nor a roof above his bed meant he would not get on with a girl with a pension for a blown dry.
So I waited it out. No, he didn’t offer up his chair, nor did he revert his attention to me, exclusively. I played it cool. But if his body language wasn’t going to tell the girl with the annoyingly alluring Aussie accent to bounce, my body language would, with a smile on my face. I’m nice, I’ll be your friend; I’m a bitch, I will cut you.
He talked a big game the other day, wanting me to stay, so I couldn’t understand why now he’d pull away; not when we possibly have only today. I had hoped, after all, he’d be a reason to stay. Not that the magnificence of this jungle beach would ever drive me away. I am here.
Well, she left. Then we left. Together.
xo,
Jane
BODY BY BIANCA 