My time here had been shit – a lesion in my back and flu symptoms, apart from the interminable heat.
This was supposed to be a Jaunt and felt more like a Taunt. Still, I pushed through and came out on the street to meet Hungarian women.
The trip felt like a reconnaissance in case I ever get sent to Europe for work and needed to pick the cities I’d like to visit the most on a cheap Easyjet flight.
I went to a local cafe in Budapest for a late breakfast. There the wide-eyed waitress served me a coffee and a Hungarian goulash.
I looked over and there was a young, lovely woman in red standing and preening herself in front of the mirror while her portly husband sat eating his lunch. She put so much effort into dressing, grooming, makeup – and here she was correcting, patting down, and shaping herself to be picture of beauty.
They ate in silence.
He was sitting on one side of the table with sandwich in one hand, phone in the other. I imagined him to be mid-thirties, about twenty kilos overweight, a government employee or IT worker, and comfortably middle class.
She to me was probably late twenties – and while not a trophy wife, definitely much more attractive than him and in the prime of her life.
I got to talking with the waitress and told her I had something to say about this woman in red.
They paid the bill and soon left. The waitress, curious, came back to me and asked what I wanted to say about her.
“She is totally bored in that relationship. Did you see them?” I remarked.
“Of course I did. I used to be that woman in red,” she replied.
She went on to tell me about her former boyfriend – how she was with him for three years, how they got engaged and how in the end she broke it off because, well, he was just so BORING.
I got her number and we agreed to go for a drink.
“Don’t worry. With me you will never be that woman in the red dress,” I assured her.
RQ’s post is timely: