Ironies

You had a bemused and anoyed look on your face when she called. You didn't pick up the phone. You had heard through the grapevine she had descended further to new depths of depravity and loss of self-respect. Ironically, she was the one not too long ago who lectured you about dignity and self-respect and the importance of public opinion. One can always tell about liars and whores. They doth protest too much and too loudly. Then Chastity called. You picked up the phone. After beating around the bush, she asked you to go out. You accepted. The time you spent with her was mildly interesting because of her calculating "candor". She thought she could put wool over your eyes. You acted stupid and naive. Once again she was busy lecturing you about manners and social etiquette such as avoiding chewing gum in public and not using "okay?" as fillers in conversations. And this came from a woman who speaks broken, street patois of bar-girl English picked up by associating with GIs and degenerate drinkers and alcoholics. You are not saying that she is not smart. Far from it. She is sharp and keenly observant of her surroundings. She is playing hard to get with you. That annoyed you at one time, but no more. She is not as smart as she thinks she is. This time she came on strong and earnest. Little did she know your interest has faded fast. And she is now only part of a sociological and anthropological experiment. She forgot that consistency was everything and you have a good memory.

After the date, you stopped by the office to check how things were going. Patches looked sad and forelorn without his stylish Mohawk hairstyle. You asked him about the reason for its disappearance. He muttered about the presence of so many "haters" in this world. You pressed him further and he finally disclosed that his supervisor had told him not to be controversial in his appearance since he has to deal with the public. You laughed loudly at the absurdity. Patches was not amused. He looked really hurt that he had to get rid of his beloved Mohawk. Ah, the issue of power and the necessity of blending in. To beguile the time, look like the time.

You live one day at a time, building will-power to confront your demons.

(to be continued)