Lust In Translation

Written in 34:00, no editing, I got bored so ended it abruptly

-------------------------------------------------

“So you don't know where you met her?”

“No.”

“And now you want to find her.”

“Yep.”

“But you know nothing about her and have no way of getting in contact with her.”

“Exactly.”

Paul looks down at the empty highball glass resting awkwardly on the coaster and takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Alright, I'm in,” he states, shaking his head emphatically.

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck not? It'll be like one of those, you know, reality show dating things.” Paul drops the butt of his cigarette into the empty glass and swirls around the remnants of the melted ice. “You know what I mean, where you gotta pick out the right broad out of a room full of them by, you know, making 'em do things like jumping jacks and drinking contests or something.”

Andy leaned forward and stared at his friend in disbelief. “How is that even remotely close to trying to find someone I bumped into on the street?”

Paul thought about it for a couple of beats, looked around and pulled out another American Spirit. “Well, it's kind of like you're trying to, you know, filter through all the others and find that one specific person.”

“But on a dating show, they're all right there, in front of you. You're not going out trying to find someone you don't have a clue as to where they are. This isn't Sherlock Holmes on the fucking Bachlorette.”

“Bachelor.”

“Huh?”

“The Bachelor. If Sherlock Holmes was on it would be The Bachelor, not The Bachlorette. The Bachlorette would be for the chicks. Like if Irene Adler was on it would be The Bachlorette.”

Andy exhaled a breath of disbelief, closed his eyes and leaned back into the worn cushion of the booth. “How could someone so borderline retarded even possibly know who Irene Adler is?”

“What, just because I don't have the same worldly insight as you, I have no business ever picking up a book? Besides, I told you I'm here to help and you respond by basically calling me a fucking mongoloid.” Paul pulls out his wallet and tucks the remaining cigarette behind his ear. “I got my own problems you know. My life doesn't always revolve around your endless chase for 'the one',” he used his fingers to form quotation marks as if to emphasize the frequency of these endeavors.

Andy, sensing an unnecessary altercation, grabbed Paul by the rest. “Shit, sorry man, sorry. I didn't mean it and yeah I appreciate you helping me out.”

Paul hesitated for a moment and sat back down, pulling his arm away abruptly from Andy's grasp so at to prevent any further illicit stares from other customers in the dingy lounge. “Yeah, well, I admit my analogy was stupid, but still, cut that retard shit out.”

“Deal.”

“Alright, so what's the first step?”

Truth be told, Andy had absolutely no idea as to where to start. The encounter lasted a mere couple of seconds, but the effect felt everlasting. “Honestly? I don't know.”

“Well you said you ran into her. Where?”

Andy couldn't remember that small but significant detail either. The immediate influence she had over him from the brief yet awkward moment penetrated his very soul, leaving him a mindless, heartbroken zombie with every step she took further away. Before he knew it, he had walked a good mile in random directions before snapping out of his love-fueled daze. He tried valiantly to retrace his steps, acknowledge any aspect familiar with that instance where time completely stopped, but to no avail. His heart was so stricken with the thought of her that everything else within that moment failed to register in his brain. “It could have been the middle of a war zone for all I knew,” he resigned mostly to himself, sighing at the slow realization that any chance to find her had taken a severe hit from his obviously poor observational skills.

“Well,” Paul lit up his last cigarette and with his empty glass motioned over to the disinterested middle-aged waitress sitting at the bar, scribbling something on a cocktail napkin to bring another round. “last I checked we weren't really at war with anyone, and I don't remember you taking off to Iraq or Uganda or somewhere fucked up like that, so we can cross war zones off the list.” The waitress brought over fresh drinks and removed the empty glasses, barely acknowledging the existence of the two men sitting there. Paul swirled the ice around in his glass with his finger, took a thirsty gulp and clinked the glass resting in front of Andy. “See? Now we're getting somewhere.”

Andy picked up his drink and swallowed a healthy amount to help soothe the stupidity that had just invaded his ears. He couldn't help but smile over the absurd yet somehow rational argument put forth by his best friend of 17 years. The two of them met back when they were in Kindergarten and have been as close to inseparable as you could get. In fact if they weren't both always off chasing women around like they were an endangered species, it would be quite easy to assume their relationship went deeper. Paul liked his women fast and uncontrollable. He never had his heart broken and would boast about the numerous times he had women sobbing uncontrollably for him not to leave. It was not his style to let his guard down and allow himself to be vulnerable. He left that for Andy, who seems an addict for those sort of situations. He couldn't help it though, he'd always worn his heart on his sleeve. He used to admire the passion and love his parents shared even after so many years and would scoff at anyone who brazenly admitted that wasn't for them. 'To wake up next to someone you love is the greatest thing in life' he would constantly remind himself.

He finished off the rest of his drink and raised his glass to both the waitress and to Paul. “We got a long night ahead of us,” he smiled. “let's find my girl.”