The seemingly newest flagship women's clothing store hasn't ran out of female customers since opening day. Even that, it's hard to keep track of the number of women in just one particular section of the store. It's so spacious inside that it can get its own zip code. No one's complaining. Forever 21 loves the high volume of traffic. I dig it. I'm an unsatisfied greedy little kid asking for more juicy lollipops in a candy store overflowing with goodies. No one can blame me. I'm rendered helpless, vulnerable and unarmed. I swear it's like a park where guys bring their dogs to hoping to catch a lady or two with the help of their canine companion. Only now, there's no tree-swaying and dog-panting; and no one is definitely trying to "catch" anything, or anyone. Of course not. I didn't come in there with a mission objective in hand. At that moment, I find my head turning 180 degrees panning from left to right, then back again. This goes on for about a couple of minutes which seems like an eternity with all the alluring women coming at me (I repeat, it's coming AT me, not ON me) from all directions.
The delight of seeing beautiful women about to wear equally beautiful clothes makes me appreciate the refinement in them. In a way, it tells me they know what they want, and that they can pull of a pricey dress like that. Aggressiveness. Confidence. Sexy. It may not be enough of a criterion, but it's one thing. To some extent, the charm is everlasting to the eyes of the man who was only there by accident, by chance. Maybe it happens everyday to people like me, that certain things happen which immortalize themselves subconsciously. Maybe that one girl in the line headed for the counter will forever remind me that some things are really worth remembering. I don't know. Now if I had only picked out a good spot way faster and held my ground quicker, I would have probably learned more. Who knows?
Yes, who knows? And wait, forever? Again, maybe. Just 5 seconds in and I'm not so sure already.