Saturday, July 07, 2007

Where now?

I think I need to start taking [more] supplements or herbs or something. And I need to google the symptoms of early onset Alzheimer's. So I meet this chic. Well, 'meet' is a bit misleading. I walk into a lift. It was actually about to shut its doors so I actually jumped in. Squeeze into that space left. So many people crammed into a small space tends to produce a fascinating atmosphere. Everyone standing there trying to look at anything other than the other guys in there, and in my case, trying not to breathe.

I turn to re-position myself in this space I've just taken up, to be met by the smiling face of a lovely lass. [Lasses are always lovely] I smile back. It's the least a guy can do. But then she asks me how I've been. I go into crisis mode. The search application is loaded. Nothing. I need to change the algorithm or something. Something. "I'm good. Been good. You?". There's a slight panic in my voice. And my eyes. I think she sees it. We start going on about what each one is up to, as I constantly glance at the floor indicator looking out for 'GF'. I get a tad uneasy when a whole bunch of guys are listening in on a conversation [and I'm sure they are]. That shyness I keep telling people about. Why do they never believe me. They should meet me in a lift they should.

After a torturous 4 floors we disembark and continue to chat. I've all but given up on making a positive identification. I haven't met a chic on nights out and about since just about the beginning of the year. Can't be campus. Although she's in IT. [she doesn't code] College? That's the most likely bet. High school? I knew like 2 chics in high school, so that's unlikely.

Anyhow. She doesn't crucify me for having no clue what her name is. [I think that's because she didn't know that I didn't know exactly who she was, let alone knowing her name] This can't be a good thing.


Anonymous kenyandream said...

Maybe she also couldn't exactly remember where she knows you from ... so she decided to be the first to launch the conversation ... and you have to suffer with the search applications.

Happens all the time.

Monday, July 16, 2007 1:03:00 PM  
Blogger Samborera said...

Come to think of it, she didn't know my name. Probably didn't know who I was either. Ha. Happens all the time you say? Thought I was the only who suffers from apparent quasi-selective pseudo-amnesia.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007 7:43:00 AM  
Blogger Samborera said...

I think we were in the same primary school. Perhaps the same class at some point.

Monday, July 30, 2007 5:25:00 PM  

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