Writing practice no. 1

About 3 or 4 years ago…

Listen, sis”(my best friend/consider him my brother/ future best man/ my neighbor liked always to call me “sis” or “sister” because he never had one, not even a female cousin. Once he said that, if he was supposed to have sister, it is imperative that she is to be like me), there are four types of women, at least the major ones. The differences are obvious. A woman can be physically beautiful, have big charisma, be hideously ugly and, the worst one – have no charisma at all. You do know that a woman can’t have only one of these threats, right? Well, there are possible combinations, but you either have or don’t have charisma, or you are ugly, or beautiful. Nothing between.

The worst type, as I said, is the one type of women who has actually not a single hint of charisma. For me, it is better to buy those “sex dolls” that Japan is so much talking about, than actually be with one of these women. Don’t get me wrong, there are various types of them. You can find a beautiful diamond that shines more than any other in the dark, but reveals to be a fake as soon as it opens its mouth. Beware of these girls. Their words are like a blunt knife – you can see their attempt to crawl bellow your skin, but all they do is make a nice scar that lasts for couple of days. They are only for show, nothing more. You don’t take them to dinner, you don’t talk to them. Hell, I don’t do anything with them. I just watch their pathetic attempts and laugh.

The second type is like that woman in the corner. (We were for a walk in the park and resting on the bench when he was speaking this to me, eating ice cream and watching people pass by) “She is ugly like Hell, even she’d admit it if we asked her. But you don’t know if she is nice, or the proof that ‘dinosaurs still walk the Earth’, in this case, a T-Rex.

I stopped him there for a moment: “You are saying that this woman can be ugly and nice, or ugly and nightmare?”

“Yes”, he said after a moment. “Do you know her? She is a professor in my school. She is the smartest person I ever met, and she always helped students learn and get better grades. How is that for a change? The most beloved grown-up in my school is an ugly woman. This is how I learned what irony is. The next two are obvious. I am not going to bother with explanation.”

Then a thought occurred to me. With curiosity and challenge in my voice, I asked him, no, dared him to answer this question: “Which type am I?”

He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, all the time watching two girls in nothing but shorts and tiny shirts as they passed by. I heard him murmur “Thick as a plank” before he answered my question.

You are an extinct race. I know only 3 women and one of them is you that is this type. First is my mother, you are the second and the third is my girlfriend. Your skin is white, not grossly brown from all the trips to Greece or solarium, you wear decent clothes, always did, you don’t put more make up than you need it. You are neither skinny nor fat. You laugh sincerely, say what you really think and you aren’t even aware of what you are. You are a natural girl. Everything on you is real.”

And then, of course, he burst into laughter. “I am joking, can’t you tell?” We started laughing together, now and I finished our conversation with last question: “And where does this philosophy come from?

“Honestly, I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

“You mean, it’s just some random sh** you thought of to find an excuse for watching that girls but.”

“…And that, of course… But, you’ll see, I think I’m onto something.”

“You’re onto bulls***.”


Walking to my favorite place (it has Wi-Fi and very good coffee, what else do I need) to write this blog, I see a girl, blonde, plastic, kind of reminds me of C3PO when walking (in high heels, trying to lift up her shirt revealing her tattoo… the product is “C3PO movement”) and I remembered this conversation, when I came for the first time to Belgrade and he showed me the “village”. And, like always, I made the day to waitress, with my charismatic smile and words “the usual for me”.

Based on true story and a painful monologue of my Father. Painful to me, my brother and my best friend. I had to apologize later to him for that.



P.S: This is a writing practice. I do it a lot lately. Since I started reading, the words popping in my mind drive me crazy and I have to write them down. I have couple of more writings that I can’t publish on my blog, because they are going to enter some contests. Any critic will be appreciated. Thank you.


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