A Smile is Just a Smile

Bullshit

There are so many smiles. A smile can change a plain woman into attractive. In fact, a pretty woman without a good smile can cease to be pretty. How attractive a woman is can depend simply on her smile. Now I am not talking pretty vs. beautiful vs. plain vs. cute. I am simply saying, does the person attract you, or not?

And it doesn’t have to be a pretty smile, it can be a warm smile, a cute smile, or a mischievous smile. Something that lights up the face, and makes the eyes sparkle. Something that says there are interesting thoughts going on behind the face.

And a smile can ruin a face.

Take the pining woman.

The first night of a new semester and as I walk into the creative writing class, I scan the room.
The tables are all in the center of the room, I move to the left. There is an attractive blonde on the right side. My glance brushes past her. So lightly that she is unaware.
Blonde, shoulder length, pretty face, blue eyes. Well dressed, as if she works in an office in the city.

I sit across from her and to the left, set my coffee down and the folder of stories. I have two stories ready for the first night. I know the routine for class and I am ready. And I glance up and to the right at the pretty blonde. Our eyes meet, I smile, she smiles. The world freezes.
Alarm bells go off in my head.
The bos’n mate begins screaming ‘Dive! Dive! Dive!’
I feel claws sink into a part of my anatomy, that claws have no business sinking into; especially for a married man!
Red lights flash DEFCON4.
I feel a chill.
Warning! Self-destruct sequence will begin in five seconds!
I have an almost overwhelming urge to get up and run from the room.

I drop eye contact and turn to the left as the instructor walks into the room.

‘What the hell was that?’ I wonder as the instructor begins to talk. I have never had that kind of reaction. I dare not make eye contact again. There is something weird going on here. More than me just having too much coffee today.

I am going to have to stay well away from this woman, don’t sit across from her. I don’t know why

Puzzled, I pay attention to the class.

Once a week, we have class. People bring in stories, poems; read them; get feedback. The blonde woman has poetry. Lots of it, and it seems good. And I begin to understand.

She lived in New Orleans and began an affair with her college professor. She fell in love with him and he said he would leave his wife to be with her. And something happened and she left. Traveled. Ended up in California. And began to wait, as she is still waiting. Waiting for a man who will never come to her. Who has told her he can’t leave his wife to be with her.
Every week, she reads her poetry; we learned the depth of her feelings. For she wrote well, though perhaps I did not catch all the nuances. I am not good at poetry. But it was clear how in love she was with the man she could never have.

When class ended, we all went to Julie’s apartment for a little get together. Maybe ten of us and not the pining woman. We learned more.

As she has pined for this man, she had gotten married to another. One night, while sitting in one classmate's car, she poured out her heart about her feelings, then grabbed him and kissed him. Long, hard and deep.
We all agreed she was trouble and troubled.

And for whatever reason, at a visceral level, I was warned.

So I pay attention to smiles.