A Romantic Venture

          I have reached the end of my romantic ventures. For many nights now I have gone out late at night—not as if of my own accord, but by some impulse which I used all of my mental and physical energy to withstand. Every night, it was the same thing. I found myself tired of reading, tired of my creative pursuits, agitated to the point that I felt like a snake struggling to rid itself of its skin. Pacing the floor of my apartment, I would try and rid myself of this devil. I’d even resort to exercising—dancing, push-ups, jumping jacks—I tried everything. But nothing worked. I was compelled to leave my apartment. I had no desire to wander around on the streets. I knew that they held nothing for me. And yet, the establishment which I found myself going to night after night held nothing for me, either. Only temptations which, because of the delicacy of my nature, I could not pursue with any real gusto.

         There was one bartender, a beautiful, buxom, blonde-haired woman with a fresh face and doe-like eyes. Night after night I went there just to see her, with the hopes that something might happen. Finally, tonight, while I was seated on the downstairs patio, I saw her from behind the bar that was situated on the lower level (there was another bar upstairs), looking at me. When I noticed her, she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed. The problem was, she had a boyfriend, and her boyfriend was always present, hovering around her like some sort of fly. I wanted so badly to approach her, but I knew her boyfriend would be sure to appear, and probably at the most inopportune moment. So I sat there, sipping my beer, feeling crushed. I looked once more (I couldn’t help myself) and again, she had been looking at me, and looked away. “Fool,” I thought. “What is it with you? Why do you give such credence to this boyfriend of hers? Why do you fear him like some sort of measly little pusillanimous worm? Do you have such little faith in your own strength? In your own will? Who says there is any rule that a man like you can’t win a beautiful woman from another man?” 

         Finally, after thinking things over, I stood up and began to walk over to her. As I approached, I noticed her talking to someone in front of the bar, in a spot that was not visible from my own position. I got closer, and the woman looked at me. Fear seemed to cover her face. Then I noticed, her boyfriend was standing at the bar. He looked at me. They both did. I dropped my eyes and walked past them, opened the door to the bathroom which was just past the bar, and looked at myself in the mirror for some time.