By now, everyone would have realised how averse I am to children. I’m not some psychotic children hater, I’m just put off by the thought of having my own.
I was having lunch with a friend the other day and I said something along the lines of “In future, if my child…….”. You should have seen the face of said friend. She jerked her head up from her drink, eyes lit up like a child seeing a mountain of presents on Christmas morning, and hope sprang eternal from the tone of her voice. “You changed your mind about having children?!”
No, I told her. That was just a hypothetical comment. “But what if an accident occurs?”, she asked. I told her fat chance. And even if I got so unlucky, I would remove it. (If, for any reason, any pro-life, anti-abortion folks happen to read this, please kindly calm your tits and don’t get your panties in a bunch.) That comment was also hypothetical because it came after one impossible question in the first place.
But bless her heart. She did not come across as overbearing or annoying. And to think she actually believes I will change my mind one day is slightly touching.
Then the next day, M came out for a joint call with me. In my usual fashion, I usually will have my dumbbell of a handbag on one shoulder, and a slightly lighter detailing bag on the other, filled with my materials and 1-litre water bottle. I was struggling just a wee bit because I was trying to get something out of the bag and my gallant manager verbally (and almost physically) wrestled with me about carrying my detailing bag (he won in the end).
I told him it’s ok, because I’m so used to their weight everyday (may consider an alternate career in manual labour should I decide to make a change). Then I told him how my ex-manager K, used to also want to carry my bag, and how I should let men do things for me.
K’s logic was that sometimes men are not very good with words, so certain actions may be their way of showing they care. I told M all these, but how I’m still uncomfortable with letting men do things for me because I can manage on my own. I couldn’t quite decipher the split-second look he gave me, but in that fleeting moment, I thought I saw a tinge of sympathy and endearment.
He said it must have been a long time since any man showed me so much concern (true because I’ve been single for almost a third of my life, untrue because we have Mr. Hot and Cold, X in the corner lurking) and wanting to do things for me. He also said that if I was his girlfriend (impossible because of his inclination in case any of you is cheering me on), he’d dote the life out of me.
That is enough to warm the cockles of my heart. At least I know I still possess a shred of lovability. Then again, it could be the salesperson in him talking. After all, he’s not my manager for nothing right? And remember what I said previously about trusting salespeople….
Still, I whisper a grateful thank you for such wonderful friends in my life amongst those I wish I could exterminate like cockroaches. I am richer than I think/am.
Pardon our Singlish, we tend to speak informally on the side. Also, if you’re wondering what ‘nabeh’ means, it is a Hokkien swear word.