|Current mood:|| happy|
|Current music:||TEMPO f/Mohammad & Emi - "Janejana"|
One of the busboys at work, Humberto, asked me how many boyfriends I had, which struck me as funny.
"One," I answered, wondering if that was the response he was expecting.
He nodded, and said nothing more.
About two minutes passed before I inquired, "Why did you ask me how many boyfriends I had? Am I supposed to have more than one?"
"Most people have at least two," said Humberto. "Why don't you have more boyfriends?"
"My days of having more than one boyfriend are over," I replied, surprising myself. That meant something more than the simple run-of-the-mill connotation. Humberto picked up on that, too.
Smiling, he returned to his food. "That just means you are the best, lady."
My one and only boyfriend came by briefly last night to drop off some money he was lending the elder sister for rent. The rain was heavier at that point; we got caught in it running errands. The word 'boyfriend' itself seems so crude and falls short of a meaning I would like. What's it been now, five months?
I'll survive my 7-hour shift tomorrow, even though I'll probably only get a couple of hours' worth of sleep. That's not the important stuff. I just discussed a bit of it.