FOR WHEN WE MEET


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I am probably the worst hugger in history. I don’t even think that what I do can be classified as hugging, strictly speaking. I may put my arms around you, yes, but I will only touch you with the tips of my fingers. If it lasts for more than five seconds, I will disengage myself, gingerly or not. I don’t like to be touched.

I am not girly. I don’t like frills, bows, dolls and rainbows. I don’t wear make up, not because of some religious thing or whatever, but because I have no idea what does what or goes where .I mean, who has the time to figure it out? Certainly not me, for sure.

I’m not fancy. I am a simple lady. I would prefer to go to a local somewhere than be taken to a five star hotel or somewhere in that neighbourhood. Not that it wouldn’t be nice, mind you, but I am terrified of making a fool of myself and you. They probably know you by name, right? To be honest, I have no idea what to do with all these forks and knives. Give me a good ol’ fashioned spoon any day.

I love words in any form. Written, spoken, sung… I just love them. I have this thing, you could call it a pet peeve. I hate people who butcher the English language, in any form. I guess hate is a strong word. I really really really don’t like them. Would it kill you to write in full or use words correctly? I mean, surely! It gets me hot under the collar just thinking about it.

I will rarely, if ever, volunteer information about myself. Trust is a bigger issue for me. I’m the kind of person who will ask you a lot of questions about yourself but you will leave knowing very little about me. Sometimes, you’ll feel like you have to pry the information out of me with a crowbar, but please don’t give up. Sometimes I just want to see if you’ll stick.

I know how to do things for myself. I don’t really know how to be a damsel in distress, kinda missed that train. You’ll probably want to rescue me before this is over. Must be a male macho thing, right? Just, don’t. It’s embarrassing.

I get sad sometimes. It’s like a light is suddenly extinguished, and I see everything in varying shades of black and grey. I usually retreat into myself when that happens. Don’t worry, I snap back eventually. Maybe you won’t even notice a change or you’ll think it’s PMS. It’s not,I get angry then.

I find humour in most things. Sometimes all it takes is a split second, someone will say or do something and I’ll be in stitches. Sometimes it’s just an observation. I have a finely tuned sense of the absurd. I wish we have a similar sense of humour. If not, I wish you could read my mind.

I am religious. I know you say that with derision but I take it very seriously.
You’ll fall for me, you can’t help yourself. Whatever you do, don’t tell me. I have a deep seated aversion of the ‘three little words’.

Those are just the highlights. What can I say? I have layers.

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