All in a day’s work…
Posted by AtPeace on July 23, 2005
‘M, what would you like in your guy?’ a chat window pops up, when I’m working hard to decipher the code in my black-n-green screen. It’s A. ‘Huh?’ is my response.’No, I wanna know if you would like your guy to wear clothes of one particular colour’, A tries to explain. To me, it sounds like A’s recently been hit on the head with a brick. I’m truly mystified. ‘A, what’s up? What exactly is it that you want to know?’ I try once more.
He then sends me a forward in an attempt to explain – it’s a forward I have received several times before. (It’s the questionnaire from a guy to a girl asking ‘Why do you stop talking and look at me everytime I enter the classroom?’, ‘Why did you stop singing the other day, when I looked at you?’ and other such foolish questions with equally foolish options. The forward also has the reply from the girl rebuffing the guy, with obvious answers to every one of his questions. Apparently, at some point, some guy decided that the rebuff was too much to endure, and modified the genders, making it appear as if it was originally from a girl to a guy.) One of the questions in the original forward was ‘I mentioned casually that I like the colour blue. The next day you wore a blue salwar. Why? Options (a) You wore it because it’s my favourite colour. (b) You wore it to please me… and other such lousy ‘options’. This had been altered to the girl mentioning that she liked blue and the guy wearing a blue shirt the next day, in the forward that A received.
*sigh* Poor A, the fool that he is, found this a little bewildering and wanted to know if girls indeed prefer guys wearing shirts of specific colours. (Trust me A, as long as a guy is fully clothed, I wouldn’t mind anything, I want to answer.) ‘No, A, we really don’t have any such preferences. Now that you mention it, we don’t even notice the clothes that guys wear’, I venture to explain. A is startled. ‘You mean girls don’t care at all about all that?’. ‘Of course we don’t, A. We have better things on the planet to discuss about’. ‘Oh….’, A trails off. After a few seconds’ silence, he ventures again. ‘Appo pasanga dhan loosu madhri ponnunga pinnadi alayarangala?’ he asks. Sadly, A, yes, I say. With another ‘Oh….’, he relapses into what I assume is a thoughtful silence. I leave him to ponder over what was apparently a relevation to him and resume my war with the black-n-green screen.
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