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On seeing the 100%
perfect girl one beautiful April morning |
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's
fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect
girl.
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Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't
stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The
back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She
isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close
to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know
from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me.
The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and
my mouth is as dry as a desert.
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Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl
- one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers,
or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their
time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course.
Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the
girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of
her nose.
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But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond
to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall
the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember
for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird.
"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl,"
I tell someone.
"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?"
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"Not really."
"Your favorite type, then?"
"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about
her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."
"Strange."
"Yeah. Strange."
"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what
did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"
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Continue reading at |
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http://www.blueblanket.net/Steph/Make/Visual/Perfect/ |
