Mr. Floyd and A Year of Love

by thekathmandudes

Mr. Floyd met her for the first time at Café Devkota.  They had an immediate affinity for each other. They didn’t converse with each other for another four months before she attempted her charm but he had merely produced a nod and a subtle faint smile as he walked away clumsily. Only their fleeting glances met and sometimes he stole a look here and she feigned her gaze there. It was typical of Floyd to take a liking to women during those days of solitude. It produced a gratifying effect on him even at their mere presence. He could notice everything about women from their light, brownish, beauty moles to the lustful tip of their fingers. Women meant beauty and beautiful women were always avoided by him. He liked the idea of being in a state of desire than the illusion of fulfilled desire. Hence, a bachelor. For him, beauty was better left uncharted. Any seduced beauty was aesthetically  marred and ethereally tarnished. It was psychologically purging for him to think like that. If it was up to him he would had without a second thought, have all the damsels locked on a museum only for the world to behold and admire, never to be corrupted nor be judged. She was such a beauty.

She had a square face, dark hair, bristle yet fashionable and a Greek nose, pointed, almost chiselled and symmetrical. She had a fair countenance, somewhat dim Floyd thought it was very poignant. From the outset she had given him a warm feeling, like the sons feel when they are touched by the love of their mothers. There was nothing motherly about her but every man, in his deepest of heart, desires such an affection from their women. Men are lonely species because they are unable to love the world like the women can do. He always felt that if there was to be a god then god would certainly be a woman. The love of god is exactly like that of a woman and so is their scorn. They love in order to merely love. But men, they are brute. They love to be loved more. Mr. Floyd could love like a woman.

Having resisted such a temptation for a long time, Mr. Floyd finally succumbed to the charm of damsel in distress. His hero Wilde had asserted, over a century ago that the necessary things in life are the most unnecessary ones. Such an unnecessary friendship began to unfold in a short period of time. And it takes a friendship to develop into a courtship in a lesser time between a man and a woman. He thought that the world was full of vanity and he started to be gratify in such vanities as he began to squander away his time and money at her and commenced to be stirred by trivial observations about her and needless ruminations. Dr. Faust appeared merely egotistical and Batman was ludicrous. The world was dichotomized between fathers and mothers, music was electronized and John Travolta moves were antiquated. Sadness meant tear drops on her radiant cheeks and happiness was a blush. Love meant being together, harsh was an accidentally discordant word and hate was forgotten.

So, after a couple of weeks of flawless romance, delightful promenades and seemingly interminable devotion they tied the knot. He always thought boredom was a sin. He had found the right person to commit this sin with for a lifetime.

Now, after a couple of months, their life became dull with and without each other and their conversations were full of what Floyd used to term, when he scorned at couples struck by cupid, masturbation without erection.

‘So, how was your day?’

‘Oh! It was okay. You?’

‘Me too! I almost died of boredom today’.

It was a farce. The whole thing. By the end of the year, the damsel’s love for him had dried out of boredom and Mr. Floyd committed suicide by pulling a trigger and the cold bullet went though his heart. He couldn’t believe that his love for the world could end at the end of a mere woman’s love. He was stupefied that he couldn’t love the world again like women do. He had turned into a brute.

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