The house phone rang and Natasha answered as on previous occasions, knowing it could be a family friend or a client.

Good morning.
Good morning, is this the number of the "Ponme Chévere" hair salon?
Yes, this is it, how can we help you?
I want to take a friend, he tells me he can't stand his hair anymore, the old man is a bit grumpy, that's why.
A friend? - Natasha asked confused, "Sir, I think you have made a mistake, this is a dog grooming salon.

A laugh came over the speaker and the man on the other end of the phone explained that Paul her golden and Lucas the grumpy old man were her best friends.

Natasha smiled, blushing, she didn't understand why that soft yet manly voice had disturbed her. She gave the gentleman her information and explained that her parents, Rocio and Gabriel, were in charge of keeping the pets "cool" and that she, the only daughter, received them and sometimes delivered them.

So, they agreed that she would take her poodle Lucas the next day at three in the afternoon. All that morning Natasha kept thinking about that beautiful voice, that sparkling, charismatic personality. Then she said to herself, what nonsense and forgot about it.

The next day at three o'clock in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was him, that man, what would he look like? Maybe like any other. Opening the door Natasha was stunned by the sight. A young man of about twenty-four or twenty-five, he appeared in the doorway, tall, athletic, with the lightest amber eyes she had ever seen, standing out on his face, perhaps because of the cinnamon tone of the skin that housed them.

The young Natasha greeted him courteously and immediately turned her attention to the dog he was holding in his arms, caressing him as he spoke sweetly to her.

The young man, so eloquent and jovial, was speechless at the sight. He knew that the small place belonged to a family of Venezuelan immigrants who had arrived in the country many years ago, but this young girl of about seventeen or eighteen springs, seemed to have come out of a tale of a thousand and one nights. Her skin was as white as snow, her beautiful big eyes and frizzy black eyelashes, like her black hair....

She came to herself and they began to talk so pleasantly and pleasantly, that without realizing it, almost an hour had passed between laughter and longing glances. They would have spent a whole morning, the whole day enjoying that strong mutual attraction that enveloped them, had it not been for Mr. Gabriel who called the girl from inside, with a strong voice.

They said goodbye that morning, they met again in the afternoon when Naty -that's how her parents called her affectionately- went to deliver the little animal, impatient to see its owner. But not as impatient as she was, who all day long had counted the hours and minutes to see him again.

She was received with the utmost gallantry. Over coffee, they talked for almost two hours about the subjects she was most passionate about. To her surprise, the young man had ample knowledge of what she called the essence of man: neurolinguistics, the marvelous power of words, the evolutionary development of man and spirituality as the ultimate goal. The astonishment was much greater for him who with ecstatic eyes repeatedly murmured: and she is only eighteen....

She smiled, perceiving and enjoying the commotion it caused in him.

They met for the second time in a café, agreeing to meet a third time. Natasha could not stop thinking about him, that young man had turned out to be a real gentleman: polite, gallant, educated, sensitive, as well as very handsome. In short, he should be the one who would have the honor of giving her her first kiss of love.

Her virgin lips were already trembling at the memory of him, imagining what that kiss would be like. Many young men had pursued her, but she found them all empty and shallow. This man, however, was perfect. Her first boyfriend after so long, after eighteen years of waiting, she couldn't believe it. Only one thing intrigued her deeply, why had he never showed her in words what her eyes were shouting? Was it gallantry? Was it these years of difference that made him refrain from pronouncing the longed-for declaration of love?

With these expectations at the surface, Naty and her ideal gentleman sat down to talk for the third time, now under the light of the twilight, on the balcony of a shopping mall. Everything was perfect. He would start reciting his favorite verses of Neruda and she would conclude them. He smiled in wonder, but his eyes became very sad at times and she could not understand why.
The afternoon ended, he offered to take her home on foot, because they were not far from there. Perhaps on the way he would dare to tell me something, the young woman thought, but as they advanced towards her house, her lively and witty cheerfulness, her young ideal was becoming somber, although not distant, it was as if an infinite sadness tightened her chest and did not allow her to breathe. A block away from her house they stopped, he looked her straight in the eyes and told her: "I have an urgent need to tell you something: I have an imperious need to tell you something.
-She took a deep breath, her heart was racing.
You are beautiful, you know that, don't you? maybe you've been told that many times, what you don't know is that you are perfect. She was blushing, happy, but when she felt the low tone of his voice, when she saw him crestfallen, keeping silent for a few seconds, she shivered, as if a black wing brush stole her dreams.

He said to her, I must tell you something, but please keep silent until I finish. Of course, she replied.

I'm married - A splash of ice water thrown in her face - Natasha was stunned.

I love my wife, I have never felt anything like this for anyone, she is the love of my life. But I met you and I felt something that I haven't felt for many years. It scares me and makes me feel bad to realize that although I have wanted to fight with this feeling, I am feeling for you, what I have felt only and exclusively for her. Tomorrow I'm going to another city, I don't think I'll be back soon. And I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.

She looked at him fixedly and said, we say goodbye then, or better, see you never. She turned her back on him and went on home without looking back, Natasha never again in her life saw that "her perfect man" or rather "her perfect man".
"her perfect man" or rather, the perfect lout.