He was 50. I was 20. We took the bus together 5 days a week.
I asked him questions about his wife and children. He asked me questions about my ambitions and dreams of traveling the world.
It was cool.
So, bright and early one Monday morning, just before the bus arrived, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Someone peeking through a curtain.
It was his wife.
My instinct told me to abandon the conversation. He was just getting started telling a joke. He was very animated.
The next time I saw his wife, I said “Hello Mrs X! You must be excited about your trip”. Her husband told me that he was planning something special for their anniversary.
Her response left me cold.
She said, “Listen little girl. I am NOT your friend”.
Friend? Who said anything about friends?
The next time I saw her husband, he was full of smiles again. He had a bunch of brochures from a travel agent in his bag. He said “I will let my wife choose the best ones and give you the leftovers, okay?”
I was excited. I reallllllly hoped she would leave the Contiki Tours of Europe one for me.
Then my dear mother (bless her wicked vocab) stepped into the soapie right on cue. She said, “Do me a favour? Please don’t talk to those f*ckers again. You don’t need other people’s twisted views and insecurity issues in your life”.
And of course she was right.
Mothers always are.
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