Monday, 06 April 2009

  • Rock-paper-scissors

    We just finished dinner and was heading out of the restaurant. It was too beautiful of a Saturday night in Boston to go home just yet.

    “I’ll take you back,” he offered as he opened the restaurant door for me. “Just so I know you’d get home safely.”

    “Back to Charlestown?” I asked because I wasn’t sure if he knew that I was going back to my mom’s place instead of my own apartment.

    He nodded.

    “A pretty boy like you doesn’t belong in that neighborhood,” I teased, “because I may just end up having to protect you. In which case, maybe I should accompany you back instead.”

    “Maybe,” he agreed and walked ahead of me. “I need you to fend off the horde of women chasing after me.” Even though his back was towards me, he must have sensed my slight involuntary frown because he quickly added, “BUT they’re all fat and ugly and not nearly as pretty as you.”

    “Fine, I'll rock-paper-scissors you for it,” I suggested. “It’s only fair. If you win, I’ll let you take me home. But if I win, I’ll walk you back instead. Ready?”

    I tilted my head, smiled a little devious smile and thought I was so clever because I had a trick up my sleeve. We both stopped in the middle of the street and chanted “rock-papers-scissors…shoot!” Except I added in a fourth attack mode in mine: “wolverine.”

    He shot out scissors while I shot out three fingers.

    “What the hell is that?!” he exclaimed, pointing to my three fingers.

    “It’s wolverine,” I said in a that’s-so-obvious tone and playfully clawed his arm. “Like X-Men. And he wins over everything.”

    He burst out laughing. “Alright little lady. Let’s go.”

    I have been so attentive to our conversation that I didn’t realize he has walked me straight to his car already. He opened the passenger door and gently guided me in.

    “But I won,” I protested.

    "It's all just a game." He patted my head a little too paternalistically for my liking and closed the door.

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