Mirror! Mirror! On the wall

 

 “Do you love me because I’m beautiful, or I am beautiful because you love me?”

                                                                       - Oscar Hammerstein

 

I was a born narcissist. Even today my mom jokes about my childhood days when I would stand hours in front of the mirror admiring myself. Unfortunately with time, this obsession showed no signs of depreciation, thanks to the girls in school, high school, college and in public. Sometimes in an empty bus they would gamble on a dare to walk up and compliment me and ask my name and then somewhere a gorgeous Dutch waitress in a pizza hut would repeatedly smile and await my order overlooking other hot white males dying for a chance.

I often wondered why these girls found me attractive. I wasn’t the most handsome and not even close to being hot. My classmates thought it was the charm of my complexion, my room mate opined that I was more emotional and sensitive than other guys. Even my best friend advised that it was my communication that did the trick.

 He would stand in front of the mirror and thank everyone for their ignorance. After all it wasn’t the girls but their conscience that felt safer in his company… Click here