the P.Pole

He embraces her tenderly, yet not innocently. She clasps to her breasts an encased brass trophy from a different world. The two sat, across from I the silent onlooker. Their words were muted from me but they spoke multitudes nonetheless. Gracefully, she places her burden down beside her, distancing herself from him. Bewildered, he makes a pass at her goods but to no avail. She brushes his hand away and looks on. Reasoning is futile, as she isn’t listening at all. She hears not his case, as I sit, watching his lips form formless words, drawing scribbles in the air. I watch on, captivated by the show of maundering signals, mistimed words, and the maladroit show of what could’ve been quite impressive fireworks. Never one to be denied what he thinks is his, he tries again, doing nothing but repelling her and creating a sense of sympathy in me for the two of them. For her, as she is lacking the respect she so dearly deserves, and for him, as he is lacking the chivalry he so clearly needs.
Not hearing the meat of their conversation, if you can call it that, I’m sure I’ve discerned the general idea:
Guy says something inconsiderate. Girl flashes a glacial glance. Guy instantly becomes gross, stinking gorilla. Girl turns away from the putrid scent. Gorilla tries to pardon himself. Girl does not understand ape. Girl tries to get away from the overgrown, hairy mammal before her. Gorilla is confused and does not understand. Gorilla tries to prove to girl his affection in the only way he knows, with body language. Girl chooses to disregard ape’s grunting and pointing at the obvious answer.
He is pretty mad by the end of the ride. They disembark together. I say a brief prayer for the girl’s well-being. Some of us guys really are jerks.