MEET THE WHALE

People annoy me. This might come as a surprise to most of the people who know me. Since they all think I'm a nice person and all.

Well, I'm not. I'm rather selfish and self-centered. I have a very high opinion of myself. I'm smart, way above average, needless to say ; I'm funny, witty and fluent in sarcasm.

I'm forty, French and single.

I'm not sure which is worse from your end.

Don't worry, I've saved the best for last: I'm gay. I've always been. 

Well, I'm pretty sure that the few men who have had the privilege of seeing me naked would disagree. For them, the worse would be that I weigh about 200 pounds. You can probably guess from that statement that I'm not all muscles, on the contrary. I'm not flabby either. Just big. And hairy. I don't personally like it, as you can imagine. I don't particularly like seeing that flabby body in the mirror every morning, that whale rolling out of bed. Who would like that, anyway?

Don't think I'm ugly ; I'm just average. People don't shriek when they see me. They don't look either.

Get the picture?

I could be Mister Cellophane in a way, if I chose to be. I have this marvelous talent of blending in a crowd, or observing from within a group without ever being noticed.

Or I can choose to turn on the charm and appear to be the nicest guy you've ever met. I guess the round face and chubby cheeks, the big eyes and friendly nods help a bit. You would think I'm always attentive, insightful or even the world's best listener. If I gave a damn.

Which I don't. Most of the times.

To get my attention, you must be smart, obviously, well-mannered and well-spoken -- I hate vulgarity. To keep my attention, you must be talented, passionate and fascinating in some way. Or some kind of a puzzle I must solve.

If you fit the description, welcome into my life. If you don't, which should put you with the other 99,999999% of the population, it's most likely you annoy the shit out of me.

I live in Paris, did I mention that? Well, I'm actually "celebrating" my one-year anniversary in Paris today. Whoopidee! As if it was a reason to celebrate...

Granted, it's one of the most amazing cities of the world. Ok. Fine.

But it's dirty, it stinks and it's filled with people who think the city belong to them, that the world revolves around them as they walk about their petty lives.

I should probably apologize -- yeah, right -- for repeating myself, but they bug me, all of them. And even when I try to actually phase them out, ignore they exist, they still manage to find their way back in my mind to better be a nuisance to me.

Take this morning, for instance. 

The Whale rolled out of bed, listened to Public Radio as usual, pretended not to be annoyed by some politician's diatribe, got suited up and realized that he had moved back in the City a year ago today. 

It hit me in a weird way and I didn't realize I was going though the motions of my morning routine without even planning them. I found myself sitting in the metro, mentally flipping though the past year's empty months, when the shrill sound of someone's music loudly pouring out of earphones got me out of my trance.

I looked around, wondering for a second where I was. I came to my senses and discovered a woman sitting next to me, listening to some funk-hip-hop-trashy garbage and all I could focus on was the high pitch sounds coming out of her white earphones.

Everyone around, every stinking Parisian with their dull faces and haggard looks seemed to be annoyed with her. But no one moved or said a damn thing.

So I reached for something in my leather suitcase, which I found without even looking. I managed to catch the woman eyes and smiled. My chubby cheeks again did the trick : she smiled back, feeling in confidence, as my right hand opened the scissors I had retrieved from my bag and I cut the cable linking her iphone to her earphones.

The music stopped. She stared blankly. I smiled. Everyone pretended they didn't see anything. Fucking cowards.

I sat there for another two minutes, with that woman dumbstruck, sitting next to me, until my stop arrived. I got up and left for work.

As I walked toward the Courthouse, I promised myself I would always keep those scissors in my suitcase, for I was bound to cross path with loads of other annoying iPod users.

The Whale that I am walked past the two policemen standing guard at the Palais de Justice's entrance, smiling, until I noticed one of them was chewing gum. I made a mental note to report the fucker before the morning ended. Told you : annoying.

Oh, I forgot to tell you. The Whale has a name : Philippe.

And I'm a lawyer.

Happy fucking one-year-in-this-shitty-town anniversary to me!

[To be continued]