Adventures in this So-called IDGAF World

These are the times when pretty pink and blue thoughts are as modern as snail mail and walkman and brick games. These are the times when you are so supposed to mind your own frkng business and expect others to mind their own too because you don’t know each other’s stories. And you don’t care.

I was at the dermatologist’s. There were three of us in the waiting room when this lady who was about twenty eight, or younger, maybe, entered the room, walked towards my direction and sat beside me. Then she began talking about how she had a hell night last night and how her marriage was on the rocks and that her husband was screwing a busty bimbo slash college student. Then she started crying hysterically and that’s when i realized that she was talking to ME.

Oh dear. I thought she was talking to the other lady who sat on her left side. I didn’t even know her. So WTH. Not knowing quite what to do, I held her awkwardly, desperately looking at the other ladies present but they pretended that they were the only people in the room. Fine. So I assured crying lady that everything would be alright. And then she said she visits the derm’s office like, twice a month and that she thinks her husband will enter the marital bedroom again if the doctor manages to make her look prettier. It’s not like she’s ugly or something. Quite the contrary. She looks amazing. You can mistake her for a model. And it’s not like she’s got bad skin or something. I must say she looked as though she’d been using moisturizer ever since she was born.

Just a few weeks ago, I was chillin’at this bar practicing how to but failing to flirt with the bartender and this girl sat beside me. I knew her from the same college where I graduated but we never really talked so I was surprised when she was suddenly asking me whether I had tried all of the varieties of Premiere from the big bulb to ultra thin and I was about to tell her off that I DON’T USE MALE CONDOMS, when she confessed that she and her man had tried them all. Whews. Like I was interested. And I don’t care whether she’s drunk or crazy. You don’t talk about random stuff, especially intimate ones, with random people.

These are the times when pretty pink and blue thoughts are as modern as snail mail and walkman and brick games. These are the times when you are so supposed to mind your own friggin’ business and expect others to mind their own too because you don’t know each other’s stories. And you don’t care.

That’s what I thought so..

I don’t want to judge the crying lady too harshly. She was a puddle of mess back at the derm’s office. I pity her.. really, she’s young and so is her marriage. But I’ve never even met her before. You might be wondering why it was me she approached and not the fat, old lady who sat beside her, or the botox-ed momma who sat across us. That’s obvious. I simply was the only other person nearest her age. Though I wasn’t the proper person to bawl her eyes out with because thank goodness, my middle finger is ring-free. What do I know about marriage and affairs??

Really I don’t like hearing about random people’s sob stories. Not that I’m this stoic stuck up bitch. I just don’t dwell on such things, and I have no idea how to properly respond and deal with them.

And the condom girl? Hahhah. I don’t even wanna bump into her again lest she’d get me acquainted with her menstrual cycle.

So. Where am I going with this? Am I to take that it is now the dernier cri to bust into someone-you-hardly-know’s personal space??? That is just so unacceptable. But the events I had related above are nothing compared to what I experience at any random day.

Once, just for a change, I tried a short Bieber-style haircut which looked fine to me like a faux pas wig would to a mannequin hidden from the public’s view (that’s according to my really nice ex-boyfriend). A friend of a friend came to me and said, “Oh my for a second there, I thought you were my younger brother! You look like a guy!” and she slapped me on the shoulder and laughed hysterically. I’m sure she’s telling the truth and that she meant no harm. But still. I was, like, duh, are we that close??? Grrrumpy me. I just shrugged my poor, slapped shoulder off and left her laughing in tears.

Then the backhanded compliments. I got a lot of my share of those. “You can talk some sense din pala.” “I didn’t know you’re smart. You’re so kwela (Filipino slang for joker) kasi, you seemed at first like someone who’s sabaw (Filipino slang referring to the state of one’s brain turning into soup from stupidity) *giggles*” You look like a snob, but you’re nice pala.” “That blouse suits me better but don’t worry it looks just okay on you.” And my personal favorite– “Now that I have seen you in person, I realize that you’re photogenic!” Another favorite: “You look like a freshman high school student!” all of which I responded to with a series of giggles and hope that the tequila starts kicking in.

Do these things happen to you, too? Or perhaps I’m just unfortunately getting acquainted with really weird and tactless people?

Well that’s my adventure in this pretty civilized IDGAF world I live in. Hope you’re having as much fun as I am.


10 thoughts on “Adventures in this So-called IDGAF World

      1. I think people have an innate ability to see/feel that there’s something wrong with whatever they’re doing. Some are just too weak or too slow to realize things. That’s what I think anyway.

  1. Strange isn’t it when people do such things. It’s like breaching an unwritten rule, or poking a hole through the bubble that shields us from forced intimacies, oftentimes unwarranted conversations. But I guess they’re the ones who are on the brink of finding, or realizing, their humanity anew. They are on the edge of error. The view of the world from there is that everything they do and will do can only be right.

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