There is this one guy I know and I will tell you some stuff about him. We don't need to know his name, and I will call him Edgar. We don't need to know his age, so he will be 31. We don't need to know his nationality, the guy will then be a Frenchman. Edgar, 31, is a Frenchman. He has many virtues but one stands above all of them: he's modest.
What is to be modest? To be modest is to be successful and not to let yourself slip into self-indulgence. A failure isn't modest, he's a failure. He cannot claim to be modest since he didn't put himself in the position where he can choose to overlook his own success and pretend he doesn't care. A failure can be unlucky, doomed, cursed or whatever but he cannot be modest. That's beyond his reach.
Edgar, here, isn't a failure. He's quite successful.
As a start, he's good-looking. Tall, broad-shouldered, nice brown eyes and short dark hair. He knows it but doesn't say it. Others do. Girls do. And when someone says that to him, he neatly changes the subject.
He's a sportsman too. A fairly good tennis player (he thrashed me on a couple of occasions), with extreme composure and dignity on the court. Never throws down his racket, never spits on the ground, always pays you a drink after smashing the final ball on your face. He can play football (very strong at the back), he can swim and got a medal at volley-ball. But then ask him and he will keep repeating: "No, I lost my shape".
He has an extraordinary penis with a groove of his own, according to the girls he was introduced to for a longer exchange than the casual friday night drink. He's a fucking legend among us miserable schoolmates who didn't even know what a female orgasm was until some of them girls started to complain. But tell him about his reputation and he will say "Well, it depends on the night. I can be crap sometimes".
He's rich and deserves it. Finance, insurance, banking, consulting. A perfect career admirably planned from the beginning. He could live in Tokyo by now, but he met this Indian girl, she's a consultant too, so maybe they'll both move to the States. Mum and Dad are so proud of him, but he merely says: "You made all that happen".
So the guy is perfect, but above all he's modest. He won't teach you a lesson, he won't show you the way. He will just walk in your house the day you have a party, ask you where is the fridge to put the Dom Perignon bottle he found the time to buy and mingle with the other guests all smiling and talking. Some girl will say to him: "where did you learn to dance? you're pretty good." He will deny and she will say: "Come on, Edgar. Don't be modest."
(By the way, this guy has a brother and he's even more modest)
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Posted by Pierre Alexander at 10:16 PM