XX

Weird, I’ve always been good with small talks. My job is small talks. I am small talks.

You give a question, they give an answer. Vice versa, much like a game of ping pong.

And whoever that couldn’t bounce back with answer, would be reduced to be the weaker conversationist of the two parties, who therefore reveals the hidden awkwardness in the atmosphere, and would therefore, lose the game.

I took pride in that.
Until yesterday I was bounced back an answer which I had no reply to.

“I’m 32.”

Gasp.
So what do we have here?
A 32 year old female, good career prospect, average look, single.

I have no idea how the hell am I supposed to reply to that.

Prior to that she was complaining how she’s so old already, and hence, my regretful question.

I couldn’t answer because I agree.
And I couldn’t give any consolation which didn’t sound like a consolation.

I knew she is single, so I can’t possibly ask her if she’s attached because that would be inviting another suicide.

I already feel old at 25. How can I not feel old about 32? It is not about her it is about me and my wanting-to-be-forever-21 desire.

Anyway, yea I got served, and I got awkward and it was a mess.

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