His boss constantly encouraged him saying that someone would come along who would appreciate his human qualities. But this is precisely what made him see himself as a monster that had just come out of the swamp at the age of 42.
His 5'6", piggy body and worn and dirty face from so much work were the bane of his every day. The mirror in his bathroom, the windows of the buildings or the rear-view mirrors of the cars on the streets, each one clearly showed the flaws that keep him from making it to a second date.
"My God, at least make me a widower to a millionaire cougar one of these days," Tyson would say to himself from time to time as he went about his construction work.
One afternoon, as Tyson hammered relentlessly on a new San Francisco building, something stopped his mechanical labor. From one moment to the next, his vision went from colorful to completely white.
A flyer crashed into his face that read, "You're invited to the celebration of love. We're expecting you at Walrock Street 135."
Tyson took this as a divine sign. So with the salary he had been paid that day, he went to get a haircut, buy some fancy clothes and get his teeth whitened.
Between day and night there was as much difference, as there was now in the "Wingless Cupid". Before, he was Tyson, the laborer, now he looked like the boxer.
Tyson was so convinced that his lucky day had come, that he attended a talk for Latin lovers. After an hour of listening to the organizer of this event, he felt he could even win Jennifer Lopez's heart.
"Yes, Ed, I just got out of the talk and I already know all the pick up lines!" said Tyson proudly to one of his friends on his cell phone.
"No, I don't think this invitation is a government trap to deport me," Tyson replied with a chuckle to Ed's comment.
"Maybe it's just an underground speed dating, I'll find out, dude. I'll call you later, I'm almost there," Tyson finally said before hanging up.
With alacrity, he parked his car in the closest square to the address of the invitation. From there, he skipped like a child to the site. When Tyson arrived at the place, he was surprised to see that it was a church. However, that didn't stop him and with a big smile on his face, he opened the entrance doors.
"Somebody invited me? Here's your hottie, already out of the box," Tyson shouted inside the church, as a groom almost put the ring on his bride.
"Buddy, you've got the wrong bar," the groom yelled to Tyson from down the aisle.
In addition, many of the wedding guests began to rise from their seats. Definitely not in the mood to give love to their neighbor.
This chaos grew and grew, while Tyson could only watch as his life was in a prickle, unable to do much about as he was shaking from head to toe.
On the cusp of this misunderstanding, a shrill scream echoed throughout the church: it was the bride.
"I asked God to ruin this wedding because I really don't love this man, and He is fulfilling it."
The girl's parents tried to stop her by telling her that they would no longer be millionaires, but she shook her head indignantly and left the place, but not before grabbing Tyson by the arm as she ran away.
Already far away from the crowd, they took a taxi and reached as far as the Golden Gate Bridge. At the edge of its immensity, laid two souls who until recently had been strangers, but who were justly together on a bridge.
"I think you saved my life, Tyson," tearfully commented Laurence, who was slowly shedding her wedding dress as well as her old life.
"I still don't understand what happened back there, but I'm glad to know that you'll be truly happy now, Laurence," said the laborer, who was also sporting a torn and somewhat soiled tuxedo.
Although a great sense of embarrassment and confusion overwhelmed both of them, neither could resist the pleasurable scenery of that summer night under the full moon. She, wanting to say thank you, and he, wanting to be loved for the first time, merged their lips in a passionate kiss that lasted a few minutes, before at last they each went off in different directions never to see each other again.
"Ed, you won't believe what happened to me, maybe tomorrow it will be in the San Francisco Chronicle..."
