Tuesday, November 24, 2009
the one about finding someone, only to lose them. part three.
(or, the one about the cabasa.)
i had but one monday left to see the girl i was (semi-)going out with, and i wanted to make sure she would remember what she'd be leaving behind. or so i hoped.
we had dinner once at one of those restaurants that had a small group of serenaders that went from table to table, usually made up of 2 guitarists, an upright bass player, and the (almost invariably a woman) singer. and that night's singer was equipped with her own instrument - a cabasa. my date was fascinated with how it was played, and was almost childlike in burbling out that she wanted one of those, even though neither of us (at the time) knew what the heck it was.
and so, the afternoon of that monday, i decided to buy her a cabasa as a going-away present, to give to her not that night, but, instead on the day before she was to leave. i didn't even know how to wrap it yet, and so i kept it in the car, on the seat next to me.
now, another thing about this girl. i guess she fancies herself a looker, because her drinking buddy group (by the way, who are all married men) never fail to be overprotective to her from others (and once, after one drink too many, from one of their own). her female officemates often complement her on, well, things women often complement each other on. and last valentine's day, she got not one, not two, but three huge bouquets, and oddly enough, all anonymous. one of them was so well-arranged that her boss bought it from her to give to his wife; the others were so big our fair maiden needed help in carrying them to her car. i, for one, was not going to contest her confidence. after all, here i was, buying her a cabasa, of all things.
and we pick up our story on monday night. having been completely ignored on a reasonable request to see each other, with no explanation whatsoever, i decided to find out what she was up to that dinnertime. and so i sent her an SMS asking if we were still good for dinner. and she replied that she was already having one last send-off dinner with her officemates, at a diner across the street from their office. and at that point, i went completely deflated. i knew that even a reply in the negative to my SMS that morning would have taken not one minute to do. one minute that, i guess, she couldn't spare to give. so then i knew that this was a lost cause.
as i wearily entered my car, my gaze held upon the object on the seat. and it occurred to me that the cabasa was pretty much useless now, since we weren't going to see each other that night, and we weren't likely to see each other again. so what was i going to do with it?
when she got back to the office from her dinner, she must've looked at the odd-shaped, yet weirdly familiar object on her desk beside her bag. she probably took it by the handle, gave it a shake, and figured it out (along with the question of who had left it there while she was still having dinner with her officemates). and while i'm sure something stirred inside her, i don't think that alone was enough to make her call me afterwards. i'm pretty sure it had something to do with the sticky-note on the handle that said,
anyone can get you flowers.
by the time she called, i was already having out dinner with my own officemates, which limited our conversation to my telling her to practice it when she was gone, and some moments of awkward silence, as if there were things that we wanted to say, but couldn't, for some reason or another.
we never talked again after those uncomfortable 5 minutes. i resolved i wouldn't call her again, and i guess she had the same mindset. but we still had one more exchange before she left. and it was then that i learned that, even with the cabasa, i had not swayed how she felt about us. and further down the line, i came to the realization that neither had i.
(or, the one about the cabasa.)
i had but one monday left to see the girl i was (semi-)going out with, and i wanted to make sure she would remember what she'd be leaving behind. or so i hoped.
we had dinner once at one of those restaurants that had a small group of serenaders that went from table to table, usually made up of 2 guitarists, an upright bass player, and the (almost invariably a woman) singer. and that night's singer was equipped with her own instrument - a cabasa. my date was fascinated with how it was played, and was almost childlike in burbling out that she wanted one of those, even though neither of us (at the time) knew what the heck it was.
and so, the afternoon of that monday, i decided to buy her a cabasa as a going-away present, to give to her not that night, but, instead on the day before she was to leave. i didn't even know how to wrap it yet, and so i kept it in the car, on the seat next to me.
now, another thing about this girl. i guess she fancies herself a looker, because her drinking buddy group (by the way, who are all married men) never fail to be overprotective to her from others (and once, after one drink too many, from one of their own). her female officemates often complement her on, well, things women often complement each other on. and last valentine's day, she got not one, not two, but three huge bouquets, and oddly enough, all anonymous. one of them was so well-arranged that her boss bought it from her to give to his wife; the others were so big our fair maiden needed help in carrying them to her car. i, for one, was not going to contest her confidence. after all, here i was, buying her a cabasa, of all things.
and we pick up our story on monday night. having been completely ignored on a reasonable request to see each other, with no explanation whatsoever, i decided to find out what she was up to that dinnertime. and so i sent her an SMS asking if we were still good for dinner. and she replied that she was already having one last send-off dinner with her officemates, at a diner across the street from their office. and at that point, i went completely deflated. i knew that even a reply in the negative to my SMS that morning would have taken not one minute to do. one minute that, i guess, she couldn't spare to give. so then i knew that this was a lost cause.
as i wearily entered my car, my gaze held upon the object on the seat. and it occurred to me that the cabasa was pretty much useless now, since we weren't going to see each other that night, and we weren't likely to see each other again. so what was i going to do with it?
when she got back to the office from her dinner, she must've looked at the odd-shaped, yet weirdly familiar object on her desk beside her bag. she probably took it by the handle, gave it a shake, and figured it out (along with the question of who had left it there while she was still having dinner with her officemates). and while i'm sure something stirred inside her, i don't think that alone was enough to make her call me afterwards. i'm pretty sure it had something to do with the sticky-note on the handle that said,
anyone can get you flowers.
by the time she called, i was already having out dinner with my own officemates, which limited our conversation to my telling her to practice it when she was gone, and some moments of awkward silence, as if there were things that we wanted to say, but couldn't, for some reason or another.
we never talked again after those uncomfortable 5 minutes. i resolved i wouldn't call her again, and i guess she had the same mindset. but we still had one more exchange before she left. and it was then that i learned that, even with the cabasa, i had not swayed how she felt about us. and further down the line, i came to the realization that neither had i.
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