Perfection

   The reflection staring back at him was his own.

    There he stood, in the darkness of the room, all lights out but for the faint sliver, which crept from below the small space between the curtain and the floor. Although it was not much, he could make out the outline of his nose. Even in the darkness, he knew how perfect he looked.

    He raised his fingers and slowly caressed his cheekbone. Until recently, they bore the scars of acne he had while growing up. Undertaking massive skin care treatments, they became a thing of the past now. He moved his fingers again and this time, lightly touched his lips. They felt full and soft. He could not believe how dry and chapped they used to be at one point.

    He ran his fingers through the mane of thick hair on his head. He recalled the amount of products he used to kept them soft and silky over the years, after having re-grown them post getting a transplant. He took pride whenever people complimented his beautiful locks.

    Everything about him was perfect. His smile, his face, his body; he had changed himself completely. Gone were the days when he was buck-toothed – braces had insured he had the perfect smile, dazzling anyone whom he blessed it with. His physique, honed and defined after years of toiling at the gym, was something he never thought he would ever achieve. He looked with pride at his lean chest and torso, so aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

    He was perfection defined. There was a time, when he would balk away from taking pictures with others or would simply melt in the background. He used to feel embarrassed looking at himself – embarrassed at the sight of his receding hairline, the paunch peeking through his clothes and the way he looked overall. He hated every single aspect of himself.

    All of that, had changed now..

    His Instagram was now flooded with his shirtless photos, full of comments of how people liked this new version of him. He basked in their praise, his heart glowing at the sight of his increased number of likes and followers he was getting now. In person, he would walk with pride, when colleagues of old would gaze at him open-mouthed, lavishing praise at his transformation. His selfies were the talk of his circle and the harder he worked out in the gym, the more number of people drew towards him and requested for his company.

    But, not everyone took to his dramatic change kindly.

    There were people, whom he knew as friends, pass snide comments and sarcastically mention how much self-obsessed he had become.

    “Why do you post so many shirtless pics?”

    “What’s with the show off, buddy? Tone it down. Not good.”

    “Dude, just stop, you are just embarrassing yourself.”

    He knew detractors like these would come at him, but he did not bother himself much with the opinion of others. He loved himself too much to be concerned with the opinion of people who hardly mattered to him.

    For him, it was only Irene’s opinion that mattered.


    He had met Irene via Tinder a couple of months back. They met online, chatted for a couple of times and decided to meet at the mall on a weekend.

    He recalled how nervous he felt on their first meeting.

    “Wow!” she exclaimed, laying her eyes on him for the first time, “You are way too handsome in real than you look in those pictures.”

    “Thank you!” he said, blushingly. He could feel the heat rising in his throat and struggled to speak, “You l-l-look beautiful as well.”

    “Ah! Don’t be so polite! Come on, let’s find a seat,” said Irene.

     They had a ball of a time, at the mall. Irene had a pint of beer and some fries while he contented himself with just a salad.

     “Come on, dude, eat something,” she said, a little exasperated, “One meal won’t make a difference.”

     “It would,” he replied, stonily.

     The rest of the evening passed in conversation about each other.

     Irene took him back to her apartment and they ended up having sex. It felt glorious and perhaps, was the most amazing night of his life. He would still recall the way she had moaned and gasped, holding on to his back, digging her nails into his flesh. She wouldn’t let him go.

     After that first night, the visits became frequent, with him ending up having sex with her every time he went over. Their sessions grew wilder and rougher over time. He never complained once.

    He had started to grow fond of her, always waiting for her texts during the day. They met up for lunches, movies, coffee and even went for shopping together. Over time, he realised he had fallen in love with her. He liked how carefree she was. In their selfies, he noticed how much she made him glow. There was a happiness he saw on his face that he never knew he had, before meeting her.

   She would often talk about how she wanted to travel the world around and meet up new people, joking about having sex with a man from every country. He was glad at having met a wild spirit like hers. He was so much into her, he had completely forgotten about Tinder post their first meeting or meet any other girl thereafter.

     One night, as they lay naked next to each other, he asked her softly, “Do you love me?”

     Irene opened her eyes and stared at him, “Love? Why do you ask that?”

     “I just thought we have been together for almost six months now,” he answered, “Do you love me?”

     “No,” she said, a little sleepy.

     He thought she was being playful and smilingly said, “I don’t believe you.”

     “Umm,” she said her voice clear, “Look, I have never loved anyone till date. I use Tinder as a means to hook up with guys and that’s it. I honestly thought you too were looking for a sex-date. I am a little disturbed by your question now.”

     He sat upright, hardly believing what he had just heard.

     “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice shaking a little with disbelief, “You were just using me for sex?”

     “What is the matter with you?!” she shot back, a little agitated now, “When did I ever imply or give you hope that I was looking for a boyfriend. At the very first date itself, we ended up having sex, didn’t we? How could you not see this through? Are you that naïve?”

    He felt stung at this realization. To think Irene had used him as a sex object all this while broke his heart. She was the first woman, whom he had genuinely felt a connection for. He had dreamt of a future with her; of them as man and wife, raising a perfect family together and living happily ever after. All of that came crashing down in an instant.

    “Please don’t say this,” he said, holding her hand, “I genuinely like you. I am in love with you. I have never felt like this about any other woman in my whole life and I swear I will be with you till the end of our days.”

    “Babe, please stop,” she implored, looking at him directly in the eyes, “I have never looked or thought about you in that way at all. I like you, but I can’t love you. I have always been like this. I never get attached to anyone or let anyone get attached either. If I had known, I would have dissuaded you from the start. It never occurred to me honestly…

    “Look, you are a great guy – a handsome man, who can get any girl he wants. Just not me.”

    “But, why?” he asked, “Why not you?”

    “It is just not me, I am not looking to settle down with someone and raise their babies,” she stated bluntly, “I am here just to enjoy my time. Call me a slut, for all I care. I am suspecting you shall call me that soon. And frankly,” her voice steeling now, “you won’t be the first either.”

    “No, no, I would never call you that,” he said earnestly.

    “Please!” she said scornfully, “I have seen guys like you. Self-obsessed to the core! And calling girls like me a bitch! Honestly, you would not even take 24 hours to move on from me! With looks like that, I bet so many girls are behind your ass already. So, let’s not pretend now. I suggest you dress up and leave.”

    “Self-obsessed?” he said, glowering at her in a low voice.

    “Isn’t that the truth?” she replied, “The way you talk about yourself constantly, always worried about your food, your looks, your gym – it is insane! I can never be with a guy like you, who is constantly so narcissistic, it makes me want to puke. Look, even now! I said so many things to you and yet, the only thing you picked on is when I called you self-obsessed!”

    He stared at her. The realisation of her words sank into his heart like stones. He believed she was the one with whom he had fallen in love with. But the realisation dawned on him - there never was any love. After all this time, she still thought of him as a self-obsessed person and nothing more.

    He got up, dressed up quietly and had left without saying another word.


    Tears trickled down his cheek like glistening beads. He wiped them away. Was he really self-obsessed the way Irene claimed him to be? Did Irene’s words were the truth of which he was ignorant all this while? He had become so focused on improving himself, he had never given much thought on how the world would actually view him later.

    Seeds of doubt began to grow in his mind. He started doubting the praise and adulation he had received from his friends. Were they genuinely happy for him? Or did they just pretend to be happy, but secretly despised him, groaning inwardly on how constantly he kept on harping about himself?

    The Instagram likes and comments seemed fake and hollow now. Everyone saw him and praised him, but behind his back, probably thought about him the same way as Irene. They loathed him, his appearance and everything about him.

     This is not what he had wanted.

     He kept staring at his reflection in the mirror again. Everything that he had perfected over time looked so worthless. He realised all this was just vanity. It made no difference now. 

     What was the point of perfecting himself, when he couldn’t even get the one he loved so dearly?

     What was the point of this all if people still continued to think of him as a self-obsessed narcissist?

    Wiping away the tears, he went into the kitchen and stared at the kitchen knife lying there. The blade gleamed in the light peeping through the window curtains. He lifted it up, hesitated at first, but then brought it close to his cheek, its silvery tip feeling cool against his skin.

    A second later, it felt cold no longer.