Perhaps the title is a bit harsh, but I can’t stand those who arrogantly put their feet up on furniture, especially when it isn’t even theirs.
It was noonish, on a peaceful Sunday, when I breezed into the library’s sacred reading room, thrilled no one was there as I got cozy on the couch.
Suddenly, the door swings open as if it were a saloon, and this very handsome guy, all of 30, swung in like a matinee idol. Dark wavy hair, a chiseled face right from Rodin’s studio, dressed part Brooks Brothers, part Tom Ford, two parts trust fund. But who could hold that against him?
After making an Academy Award entrance, he flopped himself next to me causing my cushion to visibly rise. I kept to my book, figuring he’d settle with the papers he collected as if they were solely his, clearly needing attention.
He slipped off his Guccis, slid d0wn as if he were drag racing , with his feet up on the old, revered coffee table.
Boy, did my Connecticut light go on.
“Please don’t do that!” I said, surprising even me, the way it flew from my mouth. Who was I channeling, Emily Post? He quickly put them down, a lock of hair jumping out of place saying, “I’m sorry, really.”
Of course then I felt like a shrew, his apology lessening my scorn. We then sat side by side like kids who, by accident, saw the other naked, three deep in discomfort.
He was truly a great looking fellow, though a poster boy for the unconscious, entitled elite…half my age, and as I said to my pal Peter, in theory…what would I do with him… shine him with a shammy…color? He was like a luscious pastry in a bakery window you glimpse, but pass right on by because, is he truly worth, all those calories?
Peter said yes, I said no…trust me…I don’t care how great he looks, he, along with his feet, were a hefty handful.
That’s what comes in your 6th decade, wisdom with a twist. You’ve been to the rodeo before, so you know…is it really smart to ride that bucking bronco that will tear the skin right off your ass, not to mention mark up your coffee table?
All I can say is…
alas…thank God for books.