Point of view

The Crying Man

What a pathetic scene.  I would never cry like that over a woman.  She is gorgeous though. Ok, here we go, I hope this isn’t awkward.
“Excuse me ma’am, would you like to order now, or just the coffee?”
“Just the coffee for now.” She told me with a forced smile making only quick eye contact.
“ OK no problem, I’ll come back later and check.”  I smiled back, my most sympathetic smile. That pitiful dude didn’t even look at me.  His face was buried in his hands and his chest was heaving.
Oh man, maybe I would be crying like that after all.  She had those huge supermodel eyes with dark eyeliner that made them appear even larger, olive skin that made me think she was of middle eastern decent.  I thought of what she would look like in one of those Arabic headdresses, a hijab. That is one beautiful woman.  When I got to the kitchen I told Jose, “man, buddy take a break from those dishes for a second and look at this scene, this pathetic dude crying over this gorgeous woman.”
We peered through the round window of the stainless steel door.   
      “That aint no woman dude, that’s a man bro.” Jose said with a smile, “I knew you was gay?”
“What, whatever man, that is a woman, she is like Jazmin, an Arabian princess!”
She was rubbing the poor guys back.  Then she looked around, surveying who was watching, and she saw us, obviously staring at her with our stupid grins.  We both ducked.


Fabiana didn’t want to be in this position.  She genuinely loved Rob, but, she was bored, emotionally and sexually.  Her philosophy on love was simple, you can never lose a love, it is innate, and therefore it only changes focus, never lost.  She rubbed Rob’s back, he had on the fuzzy wool sweater, that she had bought him for Christmas.  She was embarrassed, the restraunt was bustling with people, an audience.  Fabiana was not used to a man crying.  Brazilian men don’t cry.  She had never seen her father cry, not once, not even when they visited her sister, bruised and unconscious in the hospital.  Rob was panting like a baby.  The waiter came up and asked for the order.  He looked sympathetic, embarrassed.
     “Excuse me ma’am, would you like to order now, or just the coffee?”
Fabiana couldn’t meet the waiters eyes for more then a second.  She told him they were fine.  The waiter left and Rob blurted out in a sickening mixture of snorts and words,
   “My mom, snort, she told me, whimper, not to marry a Brazilian, sniff, sniff, she will only use, you.”  Rob looked up at Fabbiana, his face red and liquid snot ran down his nose.  “You used me!”
Fabiana didn’t answer the accusation.  She looked around to see if anyone heard, if anyone was watching.  She saw two faces starring at her from the round window of the swinging kitchen doors.  They both disappeared as soon as she noticed them.


There comes a point when you just aren’t embarrassed anymore.  Sure I was breaking down publicly.  But that cold bitch did this to me, let her be embarrassed.  I sat there in the busy diner, crying, all I could think about was her with another man.  Would she make the same sounds that she made with me when she made love to some stranger?  She taught me to be so emotional, she put me through roller coaster of emotions.  We never had a day where we didn’t fight.  We didn’t have a day that we didn’t make love.
The waiter came up to take the order.  I couldn’t even look at him.  Let that bitch deal with what she did.  She was rubbing my back, trying to comfort me.  I bet she doesn’t even notice that I am wearing the sweater she bought for me.  I told her that she used me.  She did use me.  She didn’t even have the guts to answer.   She was fine, she had her armor, a philosophy that just serves to protect her from hurt.  She will regret this.