I once heard somewhere perceptiona are ninety percent of one’s reality.

For someone who had been there and done that, I could not agree less

There are a few perceptions I have now come to rethink about a new acquaintance

She recently extended an invitation to me for a card party in her home.

I found her to be a different person in the privacy of her own space,

Than the one I met for the first time at another card party months earlier.

But, meeting anyone at a party, it’s easy to take away lots of perceptions.

This woman that now stood in the doorway seemed graceful and congenial.

Whereas when we met I deemed that she was anything but either one.

Maybe it was the side effect of her having drunk too much that evening.

She graciously opened the door inviting me into her candlelit world,

Readily I felt a sense of calmness rather than the angst previously

From the way her place was laid out I deemed she was into feng shui

Whereas her life and taste in art were smartly positioned on the walls.

There was one striking photograph of her that immediately caught my eye.

She seemed pleased I’d noticed, I sensed it was among her favorites

Whereas she alluded it was taken at a time when she was all of that

Inferring to the doubters she was once beautiful, this was her proof.

Being a student of human nature during that first encounter

I quickly perceived her as being either narcissistic or vain

Perhaps both because it takes such a person to spot such a person

I got the sense there was a time she was many men’s fancy

Just by strolling into a room, she commanded their attention.

Even women couldn’t help casting a despising eye in her direction

When their dates for the evening would subtly seek her affection.

Maybe so, but that was when she was in the prime of her life.

For on the night we met, she staggered into the company where I stood

Watching others in the room engaged in a game of bid whist.

She didn’t bother to acknowledge my presence, only to others she knew.

In retrospect perhaps it was because I was a complete stranger to her.

I barely noticed her further ‘til she got loud calling attention to herself.

Even by my own admission I could see she was still nice looking.

Obviously over the years life had been kind on her very fair complexion

Allowing her to age gracefully, minor altering her body’s convexion

Yet that type of men’s attention now, seemed far removed from her mind.

She appeared to want to just enjoy life with friends and have a good time

In that she had accepted beauty like fame, both fleeting and fickle.

Being older now she is resigned to leave that to younger women

One of the men made explicit vulgar laced sexual advances that evening

She erupted suddenly using the same guttural vulgarities used by him

And went into a tirade managing to embarrassing everyone completely.

I don’t know if she understood why some men would disrespect women

Isn’t always the way she carries herself in the presence of their company

But the motivation behind what drives their action

Apparently she has grown tired of men pretending to look for affection

When bedding her down for the evening is the sole objection

Though I’m sure she finds time for maintaining her looks to attract them

Perhaps studying her fading beauty at great lengths in in the mirror

Carefully noting all the gradual changes over the years

From the way she wore her hair, which was meticulously styled

Somehow I got the sense; she still took great pride in her appearances

Just to stroke her ego, and not let that moment slip away

I blurted, you must’ve broken lots of hearts back in the day.

Instead of answering she smiled confirming that perhaps I was right

When I asked the year and her age, an older striking photo was taken

She threw her head back looked at me and grinned girlishly

Sir! A gentleman should never ask a lady that question!

But anyway she sighed! How old do you think I was then?

Or better yet she went on, how old do you think I am now?

Vanity kicked in as she recanted quickly, and grinned mischievously.

Perhaps unsure whether I would be one to flatter her or not

Please don’t answer that, you might hurt my feelings.

With a certain panache she smiled; can I offer you something to drink?

Long before the evening was over I was glad for the second chance

That I got to interact with her again; I had misjudged her very badly.

Somewhere along the way I had forgotten a most important lesson.

Put little credence in one’s act but in their action.

For their act defines what they are at any given moment

Whereas their actions defines who they are, and cannot be changed

That first night either the men or the alcohol perhaps both

Must have triggered the incessant rage upon them

In leaving this time I felt the first encounter was an aberration

And that it’s possible her diatribe was a combination of a woman

Who had too much to drink, either felt disrespected or both.