The company decided to hold a celebration party similar to a victory banquet due to the immense success of a project. Everyone seemed excited, but each person had their own reasons for being so. The simpler ones were happy for the company benefits they would receive, while the more complex ones hoped to gain the attention of a particular opposite sex or to impress the boss. Although our company's celebration parties were internal, they always seemed to attract an inexplicable influx of handsome men and beautiful women, and I never bothered to investigate how they got there.
As a senior employee of the company, I couldn't afford to embarrass the company with my attire at such an event. I put on my only suit worth tens of thousands of yuan, and after much hesitation, decided to wear the Omega replica watch I had bought for 300 yuan on eBay. Prior to leaving, I spent twenty minutes meticulously comparing the watch to the original image, confirming that with my level of expertise, I couldn't distinguish between real and fake. I even made a trip to the hair salon to tidy up my hairstyle.
At the celebration, I finally saw her again. She was stunning enough to outshine half of the room, as our boss stood beside her, flanked by another half of the room. Although I fixed my gaze on her, hoping she would notice and come over to greet me, thereby greatly satisfying my vanity, she seemed to never notice me, this senior employee in a ten-thousand-yuan suit and a replica Omega watch. Instead, she chatted quietly with her female companion.
I spent almost all of the mealtime pondering one question: should I take the initiative to greet her? Although doing so would significantly reduce the satisfaction of my vanity, it would still be there. Before I could make a decision, I needed to visit the restroom. When I came out of the restroom door, I unexpectedly bumped into her, and we locked eyes for three seconds.
"Oh, it's you. What are you doing here?" With my insistence, I finally "forced" her to speak first.
"I'm here, of course, to use the restroom. What else would I be doing? Eating?" I pointed to the sign above the restroom door.
"Ugh, you're impossible." With that, she turned and entered the ladies' room. I stood at the door feeling miserable for a long time. How could my classic response fail to spark a longer conversation with her? And how could I waste such a precious opportunity for a greeting at the restroom door, where no one could see? How could I satisfy my vanity like this? But I couldn't possibly stand outside the ladies' room waiting for her to come out, so I reluctantly chose to return to the main hall alone.
When she reappeared in the main hall, it seemed she had already forgotten about me. The post-dinner dance was as boring as ever. Dancing itself was a dull activity, just an excuse for strangers to embrace each other, especially those slow dances that were essentially like walking. As a staunch believer in male dominance, I once deprived my girlfriend of her status for going to the school dance without my permission and without me accompanying her. Although she was the one I brought back from the school dance floor. But because of this, I became even more repulsed by dancing. Just the thought of my roommates' ugly faces before and their shameless remarks after attending the dance party every weekend filled me with great disgust. Although I was one of them, people are inherently selfish, allowing themselves to flirt with other people's girlfriends at such places, but never allowing their own girlfriends to be flirted with by others.
I glanced at her from a distance again, and I decided to leave. My jealousy couldn't bear to see a girl I somewhat knew and admired dancing with strangers. I knew this mentality was dark, but I couldn't control it. Just as I looked at her again, a very gentlemanly man had already walked up to her. I heard a voice in my heart shouting, "Reject him, reject him." Damn it, I cursed myself. Why did my boring thoughts always expose me so nakedly to myself? When I saw her politely refuse the very gentlemanly man, I felt as if I had acquired a top-tier item in a game.
"May I have this dance?" A pleasant voice floated into my ears, and I shifted my gaze from her to the person standing beside me. Another half of the room had appeared next to me. Our boss was indeed "considerate" to his subordinates. Anyway, his other half was always someone different each time, and I was happy to accept this "favor." At this moment, I started to think that dancing could sometimes be quite enjoyable. After all, cheapness is human nature.
As I "enjoyed" the vanity brought to me by this other half and accepted the jealous gazes of those around me, a different kind of gaze was cast upon me. I felt her looking at me, and I even sensed a hint of sorrow in it. Although she may have just glanced casually, I would define her gaze as one of sorrow, no matter what. Just call me narcissistic. Unfortunately, happiness is fleeting. After one dance ended, I returned to sit pitifully among a group of equally boring single male colleagues.
The conversation soon turned to her.