The Guy and I met under these circumstances: I was in my grubby ol’ home clothes, and I’d hopped over from home to help out a group of people, of which The Guy was one. Though I helped out quite a lot, I had serious communication issues with all of them, especially The Guy, since my Sinhalese was far from perfect. Several hours of working later, I returned home with the promise to come later, for which I had to leave my contact detail.
All I know about The Guy is that he is Sinhalese. If the scarf on my head wasn’t obvious enough, the fact that I’m a Muslim is obvious. And the ages. That’s probably everything we knew about each other.
Less than 24 hours passes. And then:
The Guy (translated): Are you coming by to help today too? I want to talk to you.
I’d got a hint of where this was going judging by the multiple calls I’d ignored over the past day that started coming in that I refused to pick up, because I couldn’t find a single word in Sinhala to subtly put my complexedly structured sarcastic sentences across, let alone have a conversation in that language, under my parents eye.
Me (translated): Nope, got caught up with some work. What’s there to talk about?
The Guy (translated mostly): I like you very much. I want to love you. Oyate adarai. I want to talk to you.
Me (translated): Can’t do that
Me (translated): I’m already in love with someone else
I failed to mention that the people I’m in love with were among the most expensive international football players who didn’t know I existed. It was in both our best interests.
The Guy (translated mostly): Allright then. Sori yaluwa ☺
Just like that. And we didn’t even know each others’ names.
No, I don’t believe that conversation just happened either. It was extremely hilarious in Sinhala, though.
Horses and jellyfishes. One minute he’s slobbering for love, the next: oh cool that’s okay then. I had a feeling this would happen with every girl‘s number he got. And if the girl is single the course of action for them would be: stalk, stalk, beg, slobber, stalk. There’s a term for this: fishing.
It happens all the time online — desperados on Facebook and other social networks trying to slime their way into something with someone you don’t know head or tail of, proclaiming they like you and love you.
The Guy’s just fishing for girls, and thinking if someone would talk to him, it’d evolve into love. If he gets lucky, some naive bimbo will get caught, and they both walk around, thinking they’re in love. But honestly. It’s dismal. I feel sorry for where The Guy’s headed with this.
Tbh with The Guy, he isn’t so bad. Anything wise. His fatal flaw - such a twisted view of love.
I feel sorry for all of them who go around doing this. Real sorry. They’re not even pervs, just looking so hard for love - in all the wrong ways and places. I wonder if there is any gentlemen left in these men, and what twisted view of love’s in their heads. Such a twisted view of love.
To these people, it seems to be a pastime, an ego defining factor, or just something that one should have. I guess nobody teaches them to wait for The One.
If this is the way half the world is going to hook up in the future, our world is in a pathetic place.
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