Le Philanderer

I often reminisces Ian Fleming’s fictional spy James Bond when I hear his fantastic experiences. But the contradiction is so glaring that except for the guile and prowess James Bond exhibited over beautiful women this man has nothing that will even palely compare him with the “Spy who loved me”!

He has a falsetto voice. And that is quite annoying. He sounds very churlish, seemingly too, but he is not rude or a moron. Still his knowledge and practice of social etiquette are abysmal. It often offends me and gives me a feeling of shame and stupid. His habits at the meal table are, be it in the office pantry or in a restaurant, devoid of customary decency. He chews like a bovine masticating and produces the grunt and chuckle of a hog hogging. People around turn and stare at him in disgust and irritation. He seems to be oblivious of the attention that he has gathered. Ignorant of the stares he goes on and then occasionally expels on to the table the chewed remains of a vegetable, a fish bone or meat. While then stares turn to frowns, but the man is unaware and unmoved.  

He has receding hairline and occasionally sports a wig, which in fact presents him with a more respectable appearance. His jowls are wide and his cheeks are puffed. He sports a moustache and is not forgetful of shaving the stubble each day. A five feet 8’ frame is liberally decorated with a prominent belly .The battle of the bulge seems to be a one sided affair. He looks about in the mid-forties and with the life style he follows it is a wonder why he does not appear older than he looks. He is just into the forty.

What is sometimes amusing and equally ragging is his penchant and obsession with sex. He has had countless one night stands. Sometimes the analysis and rewinding of his exploits are entertaining but again infelicitous and exasperating. Anything in excess is irritating! He throws quite a sum on women. The oddity is that he takes awful lot of care in spending on his telephone calls but has no restraint in spending tidy sum buying sex. His dictum is that at the end of his days those wonderful moments he spent with women is what would stay enlivening.

It is not polished ways or a distinct panache that he displays that often entices women, be it the ones who sell pleasure for money and the ones who like a flirt. But then, what else could be the juggernaut I do not understand. I’m astonished by a woman from Pakistan who is so obsessed with him. She is perhaps one of the most beautiful, charming and elegant looking I have ever seen. One day it was when I was sitting with him in his office and chatting, that she walked in like a prima donna. I was stunned by her debonair elegance. Tall at five feet and about eight, with wheat-ish complexion, slim and immensely attractive, she was dressed in stylish skirt and blouse. She spoke chaste Urdu, Hindi and accented English. She may be in her late twenties or very early thirties. A mother of two little children she displayed no signs of that. She was the wife of a very rich man and lived in opulence. 

He had told me about this lady whom he met and gotten friendly with. And that she was hounding him for a date. It left me wondering and unable to comprehend how a woman such as she can fall for a very unattractive looking man like he and who has no charm in manner or spoken language.

It was Oscar Wilde who said, “It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious.” But then our contender is neither.