The men become women.

Huh. What do you mean it’s March already? Didn’t we just ring in the new year with champers and singing auld lang syne just yesterday? Very soon I’m going to wake up and realise I’m an old woman of 83 sitting in my rocking chair knitting a sweater for the cat laying in my lap.

I’m not sure what to make of the year so far as there have been as many ups as there have been downs. But you know how you men always accuse us women of playing games? Nah-ah. Not true.

Met up with K the other day and he asked me about X. So I started this tirade of how he seems to be the one initiating contact after I’ve made up my mind to lay off. K simply shrugged, laughed and said “ah, typical man behaviour”. Wait. What?! Since when did men behave like this? Since when did you all learn to be such women?! I demanded an explanation and said it’s not unusual. In his words, K said “when a woman keeps talking, we don’t feel like it. But once she stops talking, we want to talk”. Fuck me.

Well, fuck off. What kind of a game is this? I detest games. But I’ll have to admit that a part of me enjoys this role reversal. We’ve been having long phone conversations like the days of old (more than three hours), text conversations about anything, everything and even the most ridiculous of things. Today, we had this long text conversation and oh, how he made me chuckle. He’s adorable really, especially when he’s mad about something. And it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when I think how I’m the “chosen” one whom he chooses to share his everyday with. Well I could be wrong; he could be complaining to the world but still……

I warn myself all the time not to fall back into that trap and of course it’s working as well as trying to fit a square peg into a circle. Ah, I’m hopeless don’t you think? I think so too.



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