because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Monday, 7 November 2011

Perving on Innocent Strangers

Dear the Fit Grey-Haired Man I See in la Feltrinelli Most Days,

Hey! Wassup? So urm, like, I was totally wondering if you were, you know, urm, checking me out the other day? Because it totes felt like you were. And you see, goshthisissoembarrassing, if you were, I just wanted to say that, well, HAHAHAHA! I’ve been checking you out too.

Well. That and those warm croissants they serve up really do make my mouth water like that. Fat bitch.

I wanted to tell you that I really like your hair. It kinda looks like you dye it grey on purpose. If you do then that’s really cool. If you don’t then I totes don’t mind- grey hair on younger men is attractive. Makes you look distinguished. You don’t look like, you know, OLD or anything. Because you must be like what, 34? 35? That’s a great age. Let me just tell you that I really like your age.

And your shoes. Are they new?

Last week when I was here that old couple who I spoke Italian to replied back to me in English. I could tell that you were watching and that you were a bit confused. That’s because I AM English. I just make my Italian up. Like, if I’m not just a tourist and apparently I live here why don’t I speak Italian? I heard you think. (If I translated properly, anyway.) I KNOW, RIGHT?

And that kinda brings me on to my next question: parla Inglesi? No problem if not. I can just continue to add vowels to normal words in order to communicate with you. Or we can just have sex and not talk at all. Whatever.

At lunch that day my colleague and I wrote a letter to the universe out loud and we were all, HEY UNIVERSE, HAVE THE GREY-HAIRED MAN IN LA FELTRINELLI TALK TO LAURA and the Universe was like, TOTALLY. SURE. NO PROBLEM. HERE YOU GO and I was all, UNIVERSE! THAT WAS THE WRONG GREY-HAIRED MAN! and The Universe was all like I’M DOING MY BEST! BE MORE SPECIFIC NEXT TIME! THERE’S LIKE A BILLION PEOPLE I TEND TO DAILY YOU KNOW.

Because The Universe didn’t get the memo about the world revolving around me.

You had your friends join you yesterday, and you guys sat on the table next to me and you were talking about film and awards and intellectual stuff that I didn’t quite catch but you got all excited and passionate and it made me hot and when I said permesso to get by your table what I really meant was Talk to me. Seduce me. Educate me about all the things you naughty little grey-haired thirtysomething with the eyes that twinkle with naughty.

Fit Grey-Haired Man I See in la Feltrinelli Most Days: if you get this and want to maybe have like, you know, a conversation or a dinner date or a mud-wrestle one day, just let me know. I pretend to look busy at my computer but really I’m just Googling naked celebrities and making calendars on Excel called How Many Days Til I Go To England And Eat Hobnobs. I really like biscuits. And your face.

Yours hopefully,

Laura Jane Williams x

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