Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Believe The Lies That Make You Happy

Of course, there was a guy. Well to be perfectly honest there were lots and lots of guys. From the guy at immigration who winked as he checked my passport to the bartender who feigned a heart attack every time I walked past to the gardener who popped out from behind palm trees to tuck flowers behind my ears to the model who carried me into the ocean when I told him I didn't have a boyfriend to the entertainers who could magically hit on every girl in the room simultaneously to the vendors selling seashells and smiles on the beach, old men, young men, fat, thin, super-hot to downright ugly, all of them had a whistle or a wink. Cuba may be notorious for its shortages in the areas of food, toilet seats and personal freedoms but one thing there is no shortage of is flirtatious men and I was loving it.

I am usually a fairly reserved person but all the attention, not to mention the free-flowing drinks, were loosening me up. I was winking and smiling and flirting back like a pro, I even threw in the occasional lascivious leer for good measure. It was obviously a game but I didn't care. If the attention turned me into a better tipper or more likely to share my food and drinks that was fine...if that was the price of admission for getting to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, I was happy to pay.

Not to mention how safe it all was. We were guests of the resort and therefore the responsibility of the people who worked there. The happier we were, the more secure their jobs were. When the entertainers took us off-resort at night to go clubbing, they knew they had to get us back unharmed. One entertainer was our particular favourite. He was the clown of the group, constantly cracking jokes and trying to trick us but despite this he still seemed to be the most trustworthy of the gang. He wasn't smooth, he didn't try to be, but he was the most fun. We talked about how we felt a little bit bad for him, how he must always get friend-zoned while girls fall for the ridiculously hot dancers and models. But he wasn't feeling bad for himself, despite the fact that he was short, had questionable style and crazy hair, he marched around like a king.

Around Day 5, we were out at the club dancing when he stopped and looked at me very seriously and said 'I like you'. It was so simple and uncomplicated. There was no winking, there were no flowers pressed behind my ear, there was no comparing my beauty to the heavens, there was just a short, oddly-dressed, fuzzy-haired, hilarious man telling me that he liked me. I didn't know or care what the game was, I didn't know what exactly the appeal was, I couldn't place my finger on his allure...all I knew, very simply, was that I liked him too.