Only a monkey would do what I did to three people I know last night.
And I was born in 1980. Monkey year. On target.
Hi. Can you be my textmate? I'm Charis, 21/f/qc. Or Joely, 20/f/Sta Cruz. Or some closeted gay seminarian with a girlfriend.
It isn't like wala akong magawa. It isn't like I'm bored to near-coma. I actually am quite preoccupied these days, but it's always been--almost always, that is--my modus operandi for me to do a little "testing" on whoever is my object of affection at the moment.
So I did it to the ArtshyFartsy guy. To my aghast/surprise/disgust, he bit the bait. For three days he continually spent 2.50 to text Charis, the 21-year-old PSBA marketing graduate. Like duh. Me, bleeding heart. Look at how cheap you can be, Mr. Prince Charming-turned-into-a-Frog. Pag ako nga ang nagtetext sa yo Q&A lang tayo. Tapos pag ibang chick na kagat ka agad?
So last night, instead of sulking about this predicament, I did the opposite--texted a good friend and a former "flame" (if you could call it that), using the same trick in the bag.
With hilarious but bittersweet results.
(to be continued)
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