Caller ID

Imagine this: You’re on a nice date, having after-dinner coffee, chatting about god-knows-what. For several brief minutes, the world seemed like a perfect place. The soft glow of the coffee shop and equally soft music add to the oh so romantic effect of the night.

You take a dainty sip of your hot Café Mocha, in a cheap attempt to look extremely girly and shy.

The two of you talk of school and how things are with your families. Both of you nod politely as something impressive was being said – never mind the fact that it made you feel incompetent and stupid(“Oh, so you were a Valedictorian? How nice,”).

You suddenly realize that he seems like a really nice guy, nothing like the other blokes you’ve been with. You faintly wonder if he’d ask you out again. All of the sudden you feel extremely giddy and girly inside.

But as I said, all of this lasted only for several brief minutes.

Suddenly, your phone rings, successfully bringing you out of your reverie. You curse your luck as the retched piece of technology continues to vibrate away in your purse. You check the caller ID.

And your perfect would just crashed.

With slight panic, you reject the call, hoping your date did not see the caller ID – if he did, that would be embarrassing. You smile nervously.

Seconds later, your phone vibrates again. You feel like crying – somebody must be conspiring against you up there.

“Your phone,” your date points at your phone, which was now in clear view. “Home,” he adds, with a grin.

You mentally die of embarrassment and offer him a small smile. So much for being cool and independent.

Answering the phone, you hear the infamous tagline of your mother.

“Naa ka’y plano mo uli?”

You check your watch, it was well past 10 PM.

You faintly wonder what you did to deserve to live.

Sighing, you answer that you do have plans to return home. You see your date laugh. You then decide that it was perhaps better to just jump off a bridge and to put an end to your nonexistent social life.

You begin to wonder what the use was of being well over 18 and not being able to enjoy its perks – say, going home slightly after 10?

Yep, you realize, your life’s just peachy.