Tinker, Tailor

Update below.

Girl: Hello.

Boy: Hello.

Girl: What are you doing?

Boy: Digging a hole.

G: Can I dig with you?

B: You dig your own.

G: I want to dig with you.

B: Ok you dig this. I dig another hole.

G: I want to dig with you.

B: No.

G: Why not.

B: No.

B: Don’t dig my hole. Dig your own hole.

G: You’re not my friend anymore.

B: Ok you dig here with me.

G: No.

B: Why not.

G: I don’t like to dig.

* * *

Update:

Got some comments about this post not making much sense. I didn’t think to explain it when I wrote it, but I now think it’s a good idea.

On the surface, this exchange takes place on a grass patch. The boy, around 5, is randomly digging a hole in the grass using a small stick when the girl comes along to join in - I’ve seen a similar scenario before.

On a deeper level, this type of interaction is a reflection of what often takes place in many relationships.

But, I wrote this primarily to metaphorically express some feelings and thoughts I had at that time. This part I won’t explain, and try not to read too much into it

I was having dinner with this petite friend of mine when she decided to show me some taichi hand reflexology acupressure thingy by pressing at some acupoint between my thumb and my index finger.

It hurt like hell. Which is supposed to mean I have some serious problem, like some terminal disease or something.

And it’s still hurting.

Which is why I can’t blog for now, until things get better.

Saw an ex-colleague get on the bus I was riding in. He spotted me and so, because of social expectations, decided to sit near me.

It may be worth mentioning that my gaydar was bleeping.

The strange thing is that when we were colleagues, it never really crossed my mind that he might be gay, even though we were sort of working together for a short period.

Perhaps I was being extra paranoid today, since it was a one-on-one situation this time, and neither of us were at work.

Anyway, we started catching up a bit, and I can’t remember how the conversation veered to this topic, but he asked me,

“So are you married?”

He’s trying to find out if I’m gay, I thought.

Normally, when someone asks me if I’m married, I’d make some wisecrack, like “maybe after I have kids”, or “would you like to marry me?” (a potentially perilous wisecrack).

This time, I answered very carefully.

“No I’m not. I haven’t found the right girl yet.” I hope he caught the girl part.

I smiled smugly to myself. This should vaporize any hope he still has. Hah!

Anyway, my stop finally came, so we fared each other well after I passed him my namecard.

Half an hour later, I got an SMS from an unknown number.

It was great seeing you!