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Thursday, May 14, 2009

Eyebrows Don’t Lie

I met a man named Akhil on Monday when I went for lunch at the Outback Steakhouse in the city. He approached me as I was clamoring into the awkward stool/chair at my table for one. I’m not a graceful person, although I thankfully posses a high level of common sense that stops me from completely embarrassing myself. I am constantly ten times more aware then the average person of each and every glass window, crooked step, speed bump and slippery floor around me. That Monday I was also wearing my black leather boots, with the potentially dangerous two-inch heels. Those paired with the artfully pre-faded, pre-ripped jeans, over-sized plaid button up and low-cut tanktop didn’t exactly scream sophisticated. Akhil looked to be in his late 40’s with a very neat, refined appearance and high-priced suit. An attractive man… in that “if only I was 20 years older” kind of way. His eyes were gentle, but still full of judgment as he glanced from my chewed-off fingernails to the very noticeable tear-drop scar on my left hand. We introduced ourselves and I asked him about his three excessively expensive looking gold rings, knowing it would only further convince him of his very wrong first impression. He was about to reply, with a grin I had seen all too often - when his eyes shifted suddenly to one of my shopping bags. From National Bookstore. There, sitting visibly seen through the thin plastic was The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud. He smiled in a very different way and smoothly shifted the subject away with such ease that I pretended not to notice. This man's ability to completely withdraw his previous opinion of me in just one simple glance immediately impressed me. He was a psychologist, and the ice was not broken, but melted away… just like that. The fluidity of our conversation was something to be marveled at. It was quick, humored, intellectual and profound all at once. He didn’t just wait for his chance to talk and our words bounced off each other in a way made me forget all about the menu in my hands. We discussed political corruption and the true nature of tyranny. He politely challenged my opinions on religion, his eyebrows raised in slight surprise every time I made any kind of relevant argument. He tried to hide it, tried to mask the shock that this clumsy little girl dressed half rocker chick half farm girl wasn’t afraid to disagree with the tall powerful Arab man in the 200 dollar shoes– but the eyebrows don’t lie. It didn't bother me in the slightest. We flitted from subject to subject. Vehemently rambling on about spiritual awakenings and miracles. Both the lies and truths behind the concept of id, ego and super ego. The underlying themes of numerous old Hitchcock movies and why we both hated ‘The Birds.’ It was both confusing and invigorating to sit back after he had left and contemplate all the ideas still twirling around my mind. I slowly wrapped them back into their new places, smiled and promised myself I would write about it soon.

I always keep my promises.


if you happen to be a billionaire...