By SJ
Date: 26 October 1998

Cut the façade.

"Cut the façade." says Kathryn. An attractive woman whom I only met minutes before, here in this nouveau, gen-x, yuppie bar. There was frustration in her voice. "This isn't you that I'm seeing. It's an act." she exclaims as she turns to her girlfriends, "You see? This is why I hate going out! Everybody is just sooooo cool and beautiful. Nobody's natural and real." Surprised by her outburst and somewhat shocked, I'm intrigued none the less and decide to play ball. "How do you know that what I'm giving you isn't a facade? What if this really is me?" I offer up. Kathryn only seems to get a little more fired up and shoots back "I don't buy it. Just look at the way you are standing for instance. Even the way you are standing is cool. That can't be comfortable. That's not natural. That's not real. That's not you." Amused by this, I pull away from my lean on the bar stool, set my martini down, and change my stance only to receive her disapproval. "Nope. That's not real either." pouts Kathryn. I rearrange my position several times to her protest each time and fail to gain her acceptance. Finally, I give up, shrug my shoulders. "Damn. What the hell do you want from me?"

Kathryn's beautiful, big, brown eyes pierce into mine as she grabs my arm and pleads "I want the truth. I want to see the real you. Not this act that everyone puts on every time they go out." I turn to glance at her two girlfriends by her side who are rolling their eyes at Kathryn. "If I gave you that, Kathryn." I turn back to her again. "The truth. The real me. You wouldn't believe a word of it. Especially coming from a guy like me you meet in a bar. And even if you did believe it, it's nothing you want to here. I'm sure." Kathryn doesn't let me off the hook. "Try me." she says. I look at her friends again who are now anxious for my reply and I feel like I'm on stage all of a sudden. I grab my martini as I get the feeling I'm going to need it.

"Fine." I gulp down the last of my drink. "You want the real me? Here it is then. I'm unhappy, despite how I've come across so far. Alcohol has a way of solving that problem. I'm a hopeless romantic. Hell. I even write poetry for crying out loud. I'm not emotional strong as steel and my feelings do get hurt. I'm not trying to be suave and pick women up. Actually. I hate this. I hate being single. I hate having to stand here and vie for the approval of impossible women like you who assume so much. I'm just here to have a few drinks, have a pleasant conversation and forget about things like the fact that I'm damaged goods. I'm heartbroken. I was totally destroyed by a woman. I haven't dated anyone since then and I doubt I'll ever fall in love again. And yes, I do shed tears over it every night." I cracked half a smile at Kathryn and continued. "So what do you think of that? Was that what you were looking for?"

Kathryn's eyes never tore away from mine. A second or two wanders by and she replies. "You didn't have to explain it. It was written all over your face." Emotionally spent, I look at Kathryn a second more and suddenly I see it. Plain as day.

"So what is your story? Why is your heart broken, Kathryn?"

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