Alpha, Beta – a story. #491
This quickie is, as closely as I can make it, a transcription of a vivid dream I had last night. As to what that means, or where it came from, I can’t say. Fear of being supplanted by a younger man? Anyhow, I will never feel the same about going to a conference again!
Everybody knows about conference affairs. They add excitement and euphoria to a boring event. They are ephemeral.
I met Clare at the Conference. She was a lovely brunette of fifty-odd, with long hair and wearing expensive designer clothes as if she’d been born to them. Which she had.
With my white hair and dark suits, or in my jeans, I was professorial, urbane, fit-looking. I could make conversation she wanted, about art, politics, science, travel, even wines. I was the best, and I won her as my prize. We held hands, we kissed, we…. well you know the rest.
At the Conference we all heard of young Paxton. He was headed for a top university, the dux of his school, a sporting hero, winner of the inter-college debating prize, and had performed brilliantly in the lead role of his expensive school’s end-of-semester musical.
Not actually handsome, he was a fine young man who wore confidence and competence like a shining cloak. I was amused when he sat next to Clare and began to chat her up. The Conference was ending with an impromtu concert in which Clare and I were spectators only. It was not our thing.
Paxton, known as either ‘Pax’or ‘Tex’ to his friends, took the stage and danced, for his item. Where he learned I don’t know, but his dancing expressed his nature and his future. It said, ‘I am male, I am a warrior, I am a future leader’ and it reeked of hormones and sexuality. He kept his eyes on Clare, and his desire and intent to have her was powerfully stated.
Afterwards, he came and sat next to Clare again. For a moment I was amused. This lad, a rival? To me? And then a moment later I saw from her body language that Clare was no longer mine.
Instantly I knew that I could challenge him and would lose, and look an old fool. To do the gentlemanly thing and concede was the only way to save face.
They left together, and later, at the Conference Dinner, I saw them at the head table, obviously holding hands, and obviously lovers.
I knew then that my role was to be for ever the beta male.
© Malcolm Miller 21 March 2113