He have always been a boobs guy. Sure there were more men willing to accept they preferred perky butts, no shame in that. But he have his type.
His ideal woman was a petite, busty, brunette of olive skin. Of course he liked the ones that laughed at his jokes and understood his obscure literature references. He would throw one or two in the middle of a conversation expecting to distinguish her from the rest. She should be sensitive but a master of her own emotions. He would recognize her in the cadence of her voice. A plus would be an exotic accent, a promise of mysterious lands. Her image should be kept neat and compose but alluring. She should be conscious of her own beauty and confident on her skills as well. She should be proficient on her field.
Susannah have been pretty close to that ideal. The only speck was the lack of a foreign accent, she was British like him. She had a 50’s vibe to her. She used tight but classy dresses that delineated her hips and bosom in entire colors that highlighted her skin with her hair collected. She was physically everything he desired and on top of that they had built their relationship on their mutual love for theater.
She was a respected actress, an insider of the world he so desperately wanted to be part of. She was a delight with his sisters and mother, she could even handle his father. The old man didn’t shy away from showing his dislike for the entertainment business at any chance, ever since his only son decided he would be an actor. No matter the insidious remarks his father made she always stood proud at his side without disrespecting him. She was a consummate diplomat. He truly admired her feminine strength. In the long run she gained his father respect.
He couldn’t say that for himself. He had good reviews but no fan base. Regardless of his efforts he couldn’t translate the peer recognition he achieved in awards and nominations into substantial contracts. He was stuck in scattered tv appearances, voice work and modest theater productions.
He didn’t wanted to blemish the connection he had with the girl of his dreams with jealousy, so he had schooled himself in asking for advice instead of self-pitying. But he was well aware how their relationship looked from the outside. It amplified his failures. He was a pathetic loser for not landing any role while she did.
He was getting use to his friends and family condescending look. As if that was all he was capable of, a niche theater actor, destined to play Cassio over and over again. It scared him how easily he had accepted it, how happy he imagined that future. He constantly tried to silence all that judging voices in his head. He succeeded every time he was alone and intimate with Susannah. When he covered his tiny figure with his large frame, when she moaned under him, when she rested secure in his arms in the aftermath of their passion. But as soon as they left the bed the voices grew louder.
They made him feel sick of who he was with her and how well they merge. It was unjust to blame her, so he didn’t, but he needed to get out, to find new people, new opportunities. He left ready to do whatever it took to get that one chance to shine for himself.