“Whassup, cute girl?” a stranger tried to grab Isabella’s shoulder in one dark midnight.
“Argh!” Isabella screamed and ran. No one seemed to hear her screaming there near London Metro, so she kept running until she found a taxi and went home.
Every time Isabella remembered that horrifying experience she was upset. But that upsetting moment wasn’t the only one. The numerous flirtatious texts from Raul and Kieron, the countles stares, whistles, and winks she received from men when she was having holidays in Barcelona and Rome, for example, all these made her upset too.
Her being upset with the real world made her turn to the virtual one. She started a blog. Within weeks she felt that she had found a new world, an interesting, exuberant, and encouraging one. And plenty of interesting people too. The sun was shining until…
“You are the moonlight of my heart. You are the dew that reflects the images of my dreams,” a fellow blogger wrote her a poem, followed by another one, and another one, and then…endless virtual stalking.
Again, another traumatic experience.
A mixed race- she was the daughter of a Vietnamese father and a British mother-with hazel eyes, sensual lips, wavy hair, a skin with radiant light, and a body proportionately slender, Isabella was surely an eye-catcher.
“You know, both in the real and virtual worlds, something is wrong,” Isabella told her friend Aisha that night after the party in Miseon-Park’s house in St. James Park.
“Wrong?” the 24 year old Pakistani Aisha was puzzled.
“Yes, very wrong. I mean look at those guys hitting on me. Jesus! Too much sweet talk, too many flirts, too many grandiose words, and too many lies.”
“And too many flowers too?” Aisha remembered once a guy was waiting for Isabella in the uni hall with two bouquets of flowers in his hand.
“Uhmm,” Isabella nodded dispassionately while unlocking her car. She sighed. Then she continued, “Beauty is poisonous, you know. It makes your life difficult. Often I wish that I was far less attractive.”
“Argh!” Kyung Min threw herself in the sofa and started sobbing.
After spending several hundred Pounds for beauty treatments in one of London’s finest salons, she was hoping that someone was going to approach her and tell her how beautiful she was. But no one did. To the eyes of men in the party she was invisible.
“You look lovely tonight,” was the only compliment she received that night. But it was from her best friend, Miseon-Park. A female, not a male.
“Ah, you’re just saying that to make me happy,” Kyung Min wiped her tears.
Miseon-Park stroked Kyung Min’s hair and hugged her. She knew how difficult for Kyung-Min that must have been. Kyung-Min was 29 years old now but she never had a boyfriend in her life.
“That is because I am too ugly,” Kyung-Min reasoned. “My nose is too curvy. My skin is rough and full of freckles, my eyes are too big, too round, my calves are too chubby, and I think I’m too fat.”
“Oh, no, please don’t say that,” Miseon-Park tried to console her.
“But that’s the truth.. Life is unfair… I wish I could, I wish could be like…. Who was that devilishly attractive girl with the blue-satin dress?”
“The breath-taking mixed-race with wavy hair?”
“Yes. Who was she?”
“Yes. I wish I could be like Isabella, like her. If I was beautiful, life must’ve been far easier.”