Just between us, I don’t care about Tamara Falcó’s private life. If they were unfaithful to him, if he got a video of them having fun at a party, if his mother intervened, if the Marquise is already well, if he’s upset or if he’s going to make up. In fact, Tamara Falcó is so far from my personal trajectory that it doesn’t interest me at all. She admits she’s stylish, has a very stylish haircut, and wore a stylish trench coat the other day, but nothing more. I don’t understand why I had to overdose two weeks ago about how he was dealing with his ex’s infidelity. There may be some ulterior motives that I don’t know about, but I can only believe that we are a society that is crazy about fuss and fuss. The famous equation plus cheating is a safe bet, and the best thing that has ever happened to me about it is having a conversation with friends about whether it’s cheating to send a flirty WhatsApp with someone who isn’t your partner.
Fifteen days ago we talked about the despised marquise and seven days ago the disciples of Elias Ahuja. Every neighbor’s son, including Pedro J. Ramírez, gave his opinion and made a sociological profile of one hundred percent of the most forward-thinking residents. Fachas, luxury, rich, macho and rapists. Reductionism such as “If you have money, you’re a facha” scares me, because it is from this simple and hostile position that hatred arises. Children cursing at their windows lack education and know little or no where the world is going. Girls who yell that women are nymphomaniacs and think it’s a funny tradition to be called prostitutes must have lived in a bubble or a parallel primate universe for the past few years. I’m afraid it’s hard to be a respectful, civil and conscientious person when you’re able to utter these insults. However, knowing where the young man studied seems irrelevant to me, and I am even less interested in knowing his name. I don’t want to know or give wings to the mixing society.
Amid the infidelities and night cries, images emerged of politicians, journalists and actresses, with scissors in hand, joining the campaign for solidarity with Iranian women and cutting a lock of hair. I accept that I calculated the degree of dependence on the cause according to the amount of hair cut. I’m sorry to contribute to society in constant turmoil, but my conclusion is that I trust Juliette Binoche’s compassion more than Penelope Cruz’s. The first took a generous sample of her hair, and the second cut off all four ends.
By the way, out of respect for the neighbors, I remind the children of the Madrid dormitories that there is no noise at twelve o’clock at night. What need do those coming from adjacent blocks need to listen to the grunts while resting for hours? And to my friends who believe that sending flirty WhatsApp to other people without their partners is not cheating, I can tell you that some messages can hide more desire than a romp. Although this is in capea.