“Are you still single?” – he asked.
I had met him and exchanged numbers at a community event a while ago. We spoke only once since then.
“Does that concern you?” – I answered. I hate this question.
“It does indeed.”
“It concerns me because I’m interested in you.”
“But I’m not interested in you, so no, it does not.”
“Not rude. Honest.”
“You’re so harsh with me.”
“I am, and so what?”
“So what, what do you want me to say?”
“Whatever you wish.”
“Oh well, you too.”
“Then I wish you a nice evening.”
“Don’t you just hang up like that, you have to tell me why!”
“Personal preferences are not to be explained.”
“But you have to explain!”
“No, I don’t. Thans for calling, and have a nice evening. Ciao.”
I count myself lucky, for in my 31 years I’ve only had a handful of these conversations.
I count this one as a victory, for I did hang up and blocked his number without thinking much about it – though it took him less time to text me, only to tell me that I am not nice and that I should go eff myself.
So long as you leave me alone…