I over-think things. A lot. I expect most girls do. So any word, sign, gesture, text (or lack thereof) – especially from a guy – will be dissected, scrutinized, and pummeled for every possible nuance of meaning. “Why did he say that? What is he really thinking? Is he trying to tell me something?” I admit this level of analysis is … well … crazy … but I fear it may be DNA-related.
And many times, when you walk up to the guy and simply ask him, he will scratch his head and give a clueless shrug, because he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. In his mind, he asked for a potato. He has no idea how you could possibly misinterpret that.
I had a similar moment a few hours ago. I’m one of those annoying people that likes to look in people’s fridges. I know it’s rude and uncultured, and I don’t know what it is I expect to find in there, but for some strange reason, I can’t walk past a fridge door without yanking the door open.
Anyway, my princess and I were chilling in the bacon section at Nakumatt yesterday, and noted that 1/2 a kg goes for something like 700 bob. I randomly remembered looking in the fridge of a guy a I dated once, and seeing what looked like 5kg of bacon wrapped in a clear unbranded polythene bag.
I didn’t ask about it at the time, but in retrospect, he must have bought it wholesale, so it probably cost less than 700 bob. I figured I should ask him, so I took out my phone and sent him a quick text. He didn’t reply. And now I wonder what went through his poor (not so) little mind.
Imagine you haven’t spoken to your ex for months, possibly years. Imagine that the break-up was acrimonious to the point of crashing tupperware. Imagine that things got so bad that all subsequent girlfriends and/or boyfriends still hear your name and shudder. Imagine that the break-up was so public that entire countries (well okay, social groups) had to pick sides.
Imagine that years later, you both grew older and wiser and settled on an awkward truce, merely because you work in the same field, and were likely to bump into each other at some point – or worse – require work references. Imagine that you are now resigned to hi-hi interactions, and that the last one you had was six months ago.
Now imagine that this person, randomly, out of the blue, at 3.00 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon, sends you a text asking where you buy your bacon … no wonder the poor guy didn’t reply. But then again, maybe he simply doesn’t know where his bacon comes from…
Sometimes, a text about bacon is simply a text about bacon. And maybe I’ll remember that the next time I start to analyse some random passing phrase from a guy. Like, say, my boss asking me – repeatedly – whether my
yoga meditation practice includes neck massage lessons …
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Crystal Ading' is a professional author, editor, rock lover and mother. Her work is available through threeceebee.com.