Sanders Sides (and more) One Shots

Canny vs Cute

Another night, another angry stare in the mirror as Roman Cordato was getting ready to meet with his fellow models at a night club. As he thought about the evening ahead of him, he wished he could call the circle of superstars his friends, he wished he felt justified calling himself pretty, he felt free to contribute more. He slapped his face in order to focus on looking presentable and maybe comfortable for the night ahead of him.

Roman left his motel room after he munched on a sandwich with peanut butter and Crofters Jam just in case he was expected to drink early on in the night. He arranged an Uber and avoided doing anything but chuckle like a big-headed prince once he saw the driver swoon.

As they made it to the night club, Roman tipped generously before entering and looked around for the familiar group. One member of the group told him they were at the back of the night club and he felt out of place as he was walking past multiple other guests.

Once he reached his group, Roman was able to blend in with gossip and flirting. There was even a moment where the group tried to out perform each other in drinking. One of the other models even asked Roman how he was able to keep himself looking stunning with such an alcohol tolerance and he would respond that he takes care of his body.

By the time he left the night club, he was swaying, though he still had plenty of common sense in his head to call another Uber. He had a headache by the time he reached the motel and immediately fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The next morning, Roman groggily took a shower and looked at himself in the mirror. Though he had the body of a model, his face certainly didn't match. He couldn't help but think about how amazing makeup was as he gazed at a face he considered average in contrast to everything his lipstick, foundation, eyeliner, etc. could create.

Roman picked an outfit that wasn't on par with a premiere, but he didn't consider it sloppy either. He also grabbed a white pair of glasses and a black binder. He left the motel and took a city bus without saying much.

Eventually, he got off the bus as he made it several blocks away from a convention center. Once he reached his destination, he was greeted by another group of familiar faces that addressed him only as "Princeton" and, though he felt insecure, he still felt he was heard. It wasn't long before he was in a conference room joining in a discussion of marketing. "Princeton" expressed the correlation between businesses run by those of different ethnicities, sexualities, etc. and the safety and likelihood of returning within the consumer base. He continued going on about the importance of showing more than just telling how companies care about their various communities and even made some recommendations of organizations and businesses to bring into the spotlight. He couldn't help but smile at the acknowledgement that he was being heard.

After several more hours of lunch, taking notes, and discussing multiple ideas in reaching out to people, Roman took a bus back to the motel and prepared a nice bath for himself. As he was soaking, Roman couldn't help but look at the ceiling and frown. In an ideal world for him, he wouldn't have to be pretty to be liked or seem average in order to be listened to. He hated the expectations of both paths he took, but until he was forced to understand the climax of "Mrs. Doubtfire" from a first person perspective, he'll just have to lie in the bed he made.