Sunday, 18 January 2004

On the Way Home

Its been one of those girly evenings - cooked dinner at a friends house, talked for much longer than I intended and so finally was waiting to catch the bus home at 11.00. At the bus stop a yooff asked me the time, and I told him an approximation because I don't wear a watch. My bus came, I got on it. So did he. He decided to sit near me and do his version of chatting me up.

"So, do you want to learn drama or modeling?" - I mean really at my age, who does he think he's kidding. "I'm far too old for that", I say hoping it'll just shut him up.

"Oh but you don't look old". I smile ruefully.

"How old are you anyway?" "33." I may not look it but I look close enough to it.

"You married?" Ignore the question, instead ask him one in return, "How old are you?"
"23". Hum, yes, 10 years my junior, who'd have thought!

"You married?" Persistent indeed. "Yes." Best answer to this questions always, and I mean always.

"What do you do?" Mumbled so badly I can hardly understand and have to say pardon. "I manage a learning centre." Best not to go into it really.

"You look nice, do you want to go for a drink?" Bam - could've seen it coming but it was incredibly bluntly done, I have to say. "No, not really." Seriously now.

"Can I ring you?" Like WHY? "No, I don't think so."

"Do you want to ring me?" And in this conversation what exactly makes you think I might want to? "No, I don't think so."

"Ok, bye." I'm so glad he got off I can't tell you.

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