This ritual originated long before I met her. Every morning I saw her put on her makeup. It was a whole action, ritualized long before I met her.
She sat by the window - there is natural light, a mirror and a whole window sill filled with bubbles, tubes, brushes and boxes. And then all these tubes, boxes and brushes went into business with such dexterity and speed, as if she had four hands.
I loved this morning ritual, which was followed by the selection of clothes for today. Choosing something suitable for the weather, and for the occasion, and for each other, and for makeup. “We're not late yet, dear? Are you angry at me? I want you to like it."
And I liked it. I liked all this very feminine bustle. She liked that she wanted me to like it. Loved the whole embellishment ritual. And I liked the fact that it was for me.
Each of my wives had their own makeup ritual. Each called him differently. Each of them conducted it in their own way. And each wasted time on it. Every day.
And each did it so that I liked it.
Once, a long time ago, I tried to insist that we were still late, and go as it is. You are already the most beautiful to me. Oh, what a harsh rebuke I received. Yes, she is already the most beautiful for me. But she needs to be the most beautiful for them too. For those who meet us on the way. For those we don't even know. Let them twist their necks and for a long time then envy this man unknown to them, who has such a beautiful woman.
But there is a subtlety. You may find yourself behind the scenes of someone else's theater. Yes, you saw her crying open and squint her eyes so that the mascara would not flow. Yes, you saw her smacking the air next to someone's cheek with a sincere and welcoming expression - so that the lipstick would not smear, so that the powder would not remain on someone else's collar. You're behind the scenes of the show. At least he peeked in with one eye. And they do not stop you, look at your health. Because this is not your theater. Not for you. And you don't care at all - you are an extra, nothing more. Statisticians see a lot, but at the end of the performance they will not even be asked what their name is.
And, in the end, what did you see so interesting? Well, all of them are adults, everyone perfectly understands the rules of the game. Everyone knows that this curved eyebrow is drawn with ink. And the real one was shaved long ago, and it was in a completely different place and of a different shape. Everybody knows the words for a long time "Liposuction", "correction", "implants" … And everyone knows what these words mean. And that a suspender isn't half of a man's wardrobe to support his pants. We know, we know. Step aside and don't bother. What difference does it make how it looks if it's real, if now we see a bright picture. If now our gaze does not come off the neckline.
This game has such rules. And we like it
We didn’t come up with these rules. We were not the ones who composed the tales that the bride is worth seeing in the early morning in order to finally decide whether to marry. We didn’t give Cleopatra pearls dissolved in vinegar. In fact, only those who are tortured in dungeons should be given such a drink. But since she really wants to …
We, for that matter, do not really understand at all why it is necessary to smear the body with food. Apply cucumber masks, wash with shampoo with brewer's yeast and rinse with balms with an extract from tropical fruits. If you really want to get rich in nutrients, why not just lie face down in a salad?
Unclear. But the rules are such and they, in principle, suit us. We like.
Because we are men. We love with our eyes. This is commonplace. And the eyes are such a sense organ that is easy to deceive with a certain skill. We prefer not to look behind a bright picture. After all, this picture is drawn for us. To make us like it. Well, so we'll play along with pleasure: yes, indeed, this picture is real.
But there is another commonplace: women love with their ears.
- Where have you been, you brute?
- Honey, I spent all night in order to come up with a story how I longed for you. What unspeakable difficulties and hardships I overcame to be in front of you in the morning crumpled, hungover, with lipstick on my shirt and with a bunch of flowers in a trembling paw. You have no idea what ridiculous and funny coincidences have befallen me today. You'll like it.
