Looking at Jason I feel out of place. He sits before me, tall, handsome, and painfully arrogant. His cowboy boots and his belt buckle hold together the rest of his cowboy attire well, while his well groomed hair and awkward piercings contrast with his image. He is a man of polarizing styles which oddly makes him irresistible to the young women he has learned to prey on. The Heineken he drinks conveys wealth. That it comes from the rigs means little to his one night acquaintances. Jason has that smile which make women blush and men sigh in defeat.
"Hey man, how you doing?" He asks in his melodic and confident voice. The master of small talk.
"Oh you know man, I can't complain haha." My reply is as he expected. I am a downtrodden pathetic man. The antithesis of Jason. I am far from a good looking man, and lord knows I lack confidence. My clothes would be an ode to film Noir if not for their bright colours, a vast difference to Jason's Spaghetti western influences. I am a sexually frustrated and inept young man with promise while Jason is a sexually successful and charming man facing a dead end.
"for sure man haha. What are you drinking?" I look down at the Heineken.
"Ill have a Heineken as well actually." Jason smiled "good man!" The waitress walked over with two Heineken's and a smirk in Jasons direction. I look across the small bar table which stands between me and Jason.
"So hows life man? Still working on the rigs?" Jason smiles as he takes a swig from his bottle. "Ya man, same old same old." I nod as I always do when I see Jason. "Cool, so you got a lady?" I always ask. I know the answer. With Jason, there is no point in trying to bullshit and move around different conversations. He wants to talk about one thing, women.
"Ya man! I think this is the one. You know me, I want to settle, and this girl is real special." This is the carbon copy of our last conversation. Every girl is "the one" and Jason still clings to his frail christian ideals. I know in time, he will change her name twice, and talk about two other young ladies he is ready to settle down with. As he sits across from me I feel contempt and jealously for him. Contempt because he is a lier, thief and manipulator. I feel jealously for him because in many respects he is a greater man than I am. His sexual prowess is frustrating and his masculine projection is hateful.
"You seem to be doing well for yourself eh Jason haha." Jason gives me that smile I disgust, yet I wish I had. He could swoon almost any dimwitted woman in any bar. His deep green eyes and his thick brown hair bring out his nose and whitens his smile. He sits with a ease I can only perceive but never conceive.
"You know me man, always got them by the string" as he makes a reeling motion. What makes Jason more of a man then me? I ask myself this question often. I can't help but feel morally superior, and I tell myself daily that kindness means more than charm and dashing good looks. Every time I see jason though, my thoughts seem weak and petty. Who am I compare to this man? I feel like a boy, a lost one at that.
"Well, its getting late Jason, but it was good seeing ya take care. Cheers" I say. "Sure man, take care. Don't be a stranger." I walk away hating myself and hating him for being the reason.
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