The He Meets the She

He was a hard-edged razor-back, but bright. His hands were red-dog rough, but his smile was a delight. She was a soft-hearted floret, and smart. Her hands felt as light and plump as a neonate’s heart. She was Rubenesque, and shy. He was a coyote-skinny kind of guy. She was a Demi-Tram, and the head of the voting party. He was against voting, but was scientific and arty. Her eyes were angelic – a gray blue smooth mix. His eyes were buggy and could stare with a salmonid’s fix. When they were thrown into Senator Swear’s cocktail party, He walked up to her, to say he found her outfit quite arty. None of the rest noticed, as the men were ignoring her due to her beauty. The women were ignoring his homeliness, feeling it was socially their duty. He was humble, polite, respectful, did not look down at videos, U-tube. Best of all, he kept his eyes on her face, not her enormously prominent boobs. She did not think this unremarkable night could be salvaged, But when he made his approach, she was quickly re-val-vaged. He did not tell her she was pretty, but by his attention he showed her quite dearly. Their mutual in Schopenhauerism almost immediately drew them together and clearly. By the end of the evening the he and she were a completely-smitten we. They both had dogs named Varuna, so they eloped on day three.