Disorganized Patterns of Thoughts 1

From a recent conversation over beer at a bar somewhere in Ortigas.

Me: I have a question.

Him: What is it?

Me: Do you like me?

Him: Yes, I do.

Me: Ok.

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I started noticing HIM on the floor when he came in as a new hire. Tall and cute, one really can't miss out on him. Eye candy, so to speak.

Then he started to talk.

"Ay puta, babakla-bakla," I said to myself. I thought that was the end of it as I focused my attention back to the reports on hand.

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"Hi, can I join you?"

I was planning to have a quiet dinner at the office pantry as I went up the 8th floor. It was a particularly long and tiresome day, and I was looking forward to some downtime before heading home. As I looked up from the food that I was about to eat, there he was, standing right by the table and holding the tray of his own dinner.

"Sure," I replied in a indifferent manner.

"I'm HIM, by the way.

"Ternie."

"Ay. Were you the one who evaluated me? I got kasi an email."

"No. You're not on my list. Someone else did, I guess. They just used my credentials to generate the evaluation."

He chirped away animatedly all throughout dinner. To be fair about it, I was polite all throughout the interaction, even interested and conversant. In the span of probably 40 minutes or so, I learned a lot about him. I did ask all the right questions for him to latch on to. Not that he needed coaxing, of course. He's a natural conversationalist, picking off at any topic on hand.

And here I was, hoping for some peace and downtime.

Oh, well.

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1. He is out. He's also soft and effeminate enough that he won't be mistaken for a straight guy (unless he stands still and keeps quiet). I always tease him that if it's the last thing I'll ever do, I'll make a man out of him.