Monday, November 03, 2014

The Wrath of a Woman Scorned

With that seemingly controversial title, you might think I'd be talking about the recent almost-ascension of a prominent political wife to the role of chief minister - and the endless squabbles over her supposed qualifications or lack thereof. Unfortunately impotent rage over the misogynistic prejudgements brought up would only render me near speechless, if not stupefied, were I to speak on that particular political issue.

So I'm talking about someone closer to home, specifically Cotton Candy who transferred here with her boyfriend. Much like the unpredictable title character in Sex and the City, my version of Carrie remains quite as carelessly carefree, wonderfully wild and more than likely to be that senselessly spontaneous as well.

Which probably prompted her sudden impromptu relocation across the Big Puddle to be with her fledgling paramour! Like any budding romance, there's bound to be some initial complications when precipitous proximity occurs. Even more so when - unsurprisingly - the callow boy hasn't quite gotten his act together yet. You would think he would have learned his lesson heartily after the suitcase incident barely a month back.

Paul : It couldn't have happened again. 
Candy : He was flirting with her! I can tell!
Paul : He was talking to her I assume.
Candy : Yes, and in a very suspicious manner. 
Paul : No hanky panky?
Candy : Don't think so.
Paul : And?
Candy : Obviously he denied everything.
Paul : Which could be true. 
Candy : So I am not speaking to him this week.

Ah, ye olde tried-and-true freeze-him-out method. Don't know if that would work that well but I assume the boy ( and boy he shall be till he grows up ) had better return with the customary chocolates-and-roses apology if he wants to be allowed back in after the treasonous act of criminal conversation.

Yes, I hear you Candy but I somehow can't empathize eventhough I'm trying...

Tried my very best to sympathize I swear but I don't think I succeeded well enough. Emphatically shoved myself into Candy's high heels but I couldn't work up a similar measure of rage! At the most I only had a frisson of mild irritation over the boy's seeming ineptitude.

Perhaps I am growing more mellow with age. Or maybe just plain flirting doesn't irritate me as much. Am I just not as uncommonly possessive when it comes to a relationship? It would certainly take more than just a simple conversation to rile me up.

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