Lunch Special

#124: One Order of Awkwardness, Please

This is my third attempt in the past 5 days to actually post an entry. The last two drafts ended up in the drafts bin and I don't think I'll be picking them up anytime soon. I guess when thoughts are too intense to be kept yet too private to be published, that's where they really belong - the drafts bin.

Today is a strange day. I found myself in the most awkward lunch situation known to mankind. Ok, I'm exaggerating but I'm talking about this mankind. The one that's typing now and whose thoughts you are reading. I was thinking of meeting up with Silly Mano again for lunch because Monday lunchtimes are Silly Mano lunchtimes. Thing is, everytime I meet up with him, I spend close to Php500 in an hour. Why? Because everything feels like such a special treat when we're together. He's a dear old friend I'm always delighted to have around so I keep on ordering the lunch specials as a form of celebration. Then, after lunch, he mutates into the dear old friend who recommends (or forces on you?) the best desserts known to mankind. Who could resist? (Now you know why we are friends.) I was ready to call him though.

But KetchupPlease saw me first. He yelled from across the hall to ask me if I'd like to join his group for lunch. I said I did before asking who was actually part of that little "group." And that's where everything went weird. You see, this group not only loved to punctuate each sentence or story with a string of cuss words, they also liked to pick on each other by dangling their insecurities for the rest to snap up and chew on. Very much like those hyenas in Lion King. "MUFASA!!! BRrrrrr... Say it again! Say it again! MUFASA!!! Brrrr..." Yeah. That weird.

And so they proceeded to push each other to the limit. One was called an old maid. The other one was called a virgin. The other one was called a non-virgin. And I sat quietly in the middle of all the brutality chewing on my inedible chicken. (Why would they give me the breast portion today? Why now when hearing all these things is making it hard for me to swallow my food?? Where is gravy when I need it???)

Then, as if the current torture wasn't enough, they proceeded to tease one of their friends to...ack... one of my friends! The chicken almost shot out of my nostrils. They didn't know I was close to the guy so they enjoyed themselves making outrageous claims about my guy-friend's interest in this girl-friend of theirs who had very thick foundation which still fails to conceal the pockmarks on her face. I wanted to fall off my chair. Or choke. Whatever. Just to stop the madness. The girl apparently gets a degree of pleasure out of this and shrugs nonchalantly as if the whole thing isn't a surprise. (No, lady. It's not a surprise. It's a heart attack.) She bats her darkly made-up eyes and I imagine cakey particles falling from her eyelashes unto her food. But things were just getting started. This other girl who looks like a China Doll tells Cakey Lady that a friend of hers is asking for my friend's number. "Seems like you've got competition, Cakey honey." (Oh dear God. I need to get out of this setting.) "Shall I give her the guy's number? Or should I tell her to bug off as a sign of my loyalty to you?" (I close my eyes and keep myself from hurling.) Cakey Lady gives another shrug, "You can give it to her or she can get it in another way but hey, he drops by my office everyday so that will always be my advantage, right?" I sip on my water slowly and shake away the thoughts of this guy-friend dropping by my office every day as well. If they had known, they would probably see me as competition and rip me apart like stray cats tearing apart used diapers.

For ease of story-telling, let's call the dude, Dude. This is not because I am not creative. I am. In fact, it is because of my creativity that we are just calling him Dude. This is so that you can fill in the blank with whomever you want. Anyway, Dude actually called me last night to ask if it was okay that he didn't reveal the identity of the friend he was with before he met up with them last Saturday night. They - China Doll, China Doll's Interested friend and Cakey Lady were all asking him who he was with. You won't believe how grateful I am that he didn't say we were together. Who knows what I'd find in my chicken today if they knew?

Thing is, I've gotten quite close to Dude. Rightly or wrongly, I feel protective of him and would like to keep evil stepsisters away. But what can I do when they throw themselves at his feet? He's old. He can take care of himself, right? My problem now becomes, who will protect me when the gloves come off and the claws come out? I have a feeling he won't.

At some point, one of the girls points to me and says, "You and Dude are close, right?" I froze. I couldn't acknowledge nor deny. We were. But no one really knew. And they definitely didn't need to know. I blinked twice before swallowing what's left of my dry chicken. She then laughs one of the scariest laughs I've ever heard in my life and says, "Of course, that's a joke!" I let out a nervous chuckle and start holding my forehead to keep from getting dizzy. I've had enough of this...

Which then brings me to ask myself the bigger question of what the definition of "enough" is...and what "this" actually is.