There are two stories I would like to share with you today which go together quite nicely. One is circa 1995 and the other..... circa..... last Friday night.
In 1995, there was a social day at school. A day where the girls' and boys' school combined in an attempt at making our interactions with the opposite sex seem more natural. It was social practise in talking to boys. Luckily, I actually had male friends. This meant that I didn't really need help in socialising with these boys.
I am also going to add that these boys were taught to encourage us as much as they could. This meant that if we couldn't hit a tennis ball with a racquet, a boy would yell 'Good try, maybe next time' and the like. Seriously, these were NOT natural interactions. A boy is supposed to yell 'The objective is to HIT the ball!' or something in jest. That's how boys are made. Everyone knows that.
Anyway, there was Sam, sitting on the sidelines, no one talking to him. He didn't even appear to have any male friends of his own. I had a Lisa Simpson moment. You know, when she gives Ralph the Valentine because she feels sorry for him? I was Lisa. Sam was Ralph, but there was no "Choo Choo Choose" - ing. Just conversation. Sam was a nice guy. He was pimply and suffered from a mental illness, I wasn't attracted to him at all, but Sam was alright. He was a decent person who I enjoyed talking to. But why did a friend have to complicate things by giving Sam my number?
The night Sam called, I was so embarrassed. I told him he wasn't supposed to get my number and that he should just rip it up. I swear I heard his little heart breaking before I hung up the phone. And I really didn't want that to happen again.
But it did. Today I got a message from the taxi driver I had on Friday night. The thing is, I like talking to taxi drivers, just like I enjoy talking to people who don't have anyone to talk to. Just like Sam. Because, let's admit it- taxi-drivers have to put up with a lot of racist rubbish and a lot of drunken louts. So I was talking to Habib, the Pakistani taxi-driver and we had a lovely conversation which passed the time quite nicely. But, yes, my friend gave Habib my number. And he called.
An awkward telephone conversation took place. I said I didn't remember him in the hope that he would get the hint. I told him I was eating in the hope that he would get the hint. I placed several uncomfortable silences in there for good measure- in the hope that he would get the hint. But he didn't. In the end, I reverted to 'I'm happy with my life at the moment'. Where I got that from I don't know, it just happened. I just said it. And it mustn't have been the right thing to say because this is the exact text message I received 5 minutes afterwards:
GOLDEN FACTS OF LIFE: ven sum one loves u,u dont realize it.. Ven u realize it,Its 2 late. U always love the 1 who leaves u & leave the 1 who loves u.
What the??!?!?!?!!!
In short, PLEASE, to all my friends out there, DON'T give him my number!
1 comment:
OMG!!!!! Thank God you didn't acutally date him! Sounds like the type that might lock you in a 'trunk' in the 'basement' with the theory "If I can't have her, no-one can!"
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