某些女人

It’s weird – you’re minding your own business and along comes a woman. Not any woman – one of these women who appear perfect, flawless, too good to be human. Unnaturally beautiful, unnaturally in behavior, with an unnatural way of talking. Only their smile seems very natural, but superhuman. They appear to be from another world, not human, more god-like. They have your attention when they walk in, they have you do anything for them when they say hello.

I have met one of these women recently, exactly as described above. Too flawless, too smooth to be human, or natural, or material for that matter. She knows that all the guys around her hold their breath when she walks by, she knows that any of them would do anything for her. She is the one to pick. To pick anyone. And when she picks you, you have no choice, no option to say “no”. It is her pick. And once she picked you, to help her with anything, you are happy that you can help her because she is such a lost, poor girl. All alone in the big city barely speaking the language of the class she is attending. And she rewards you for your deliberately shared homework and your translation services with one of these superhuman smiles. When she goes home, she throws her head around so her hair flies, and gives one of these exhilarating smiles while she says “bye-bye!” And just like in that Deep Purple song, when she stands close to you she makes electric shadows beyond your finger tips. Those electric shadows are your nerve endings tickling with excitement. But still you hesitate touching her even as much as tapping her shoulder when you want to talk to her, and if you are smart you never will touch her.
Because deep inside you know that a girl of that kind loses her magical, angel-like appeal once your brain has figured out she is no less material and human than you yourself, or any other girl. Girls of this kind base their whole attractiveness on conveying the image of being non-material, being angels or one of these tricks the male imagination plays every once in a while. When they are being materialized, their glitter goes away. When you know for certain that she is real, the mask will fall, the glow die forever, and all you see is a pathetic little girl with tons of make-up, pretty clothes and too little self-esteem to come out of their shell. Who had everything handed to her all her life. Then you realize that she has probably never had any profound friendships and for sure no real relationship because she does not allow anyone into her personality, behind the mask. Do you want her to be your girlfriend? No, you don’t. And neither does anyone else. You know this, and you know that touching her would kill the excitement. So enjoy the tickling of your nerve endings, but do not touch her. That would be bad for both of you. Just recite your Deep Purple lyrics:

Oh, it’s not the kill,
It’s the thrill of the chase