Life gets strange

iTunes is playing: Love Gets Strange - Don Dixon - Love Gets Strange -- The Songs of John Hiatt

I agreed to dinner with ST and her mum. I hadn't seen her for months, and I've missed her terribly, so maybe that's why I agreed. Her mother, I think, remains confused at the status and classification of our friendship. It's never an ordinary Sunday when ST is involved. First, she always calls at the wrong time. This afternoon, I was lying in bed slipping into a nice nap, and she calls asking for coffee. I'd normally decline with the standard I am having my Sunday nap excuse, but not this arvo. I was happy to meet up with her. I was happy to do stuff with her. On the way to pick her up from her apartment, I was tailed by this black Porsche Cayenne with custom chinese lucky number plates (5354 or something), and with its headlights on high beam. Irritating. I slow down to a crawl just so's the Cayenne can overtake and so's I can glare at Cayenne driver. Cayenne overtakes, I glare, but the driver has no side profile, I swear! Two-dimensional face! So, I pull ahead a bit, so's I can get a look at the front of the face, and lo and behold, it is Fann "Xando Blocks Cabbos Tablets" Wong. She really has a two-dimensional face. You'll never see her driving a convertible, cos her head would be blown flat against the headrest. A minute's worth of giggling later, I pick up ST and we have a coffee and several ciggies before we pick up her mum. And one more thing about Sundays with ST. I always get a stomach ache. I don't know whether it's the excitement of meeting her, or the exertion of walking too quickly beside her after coffee. On occasion, she gets a tummy ache too. This, I take to mean our feelings for each other are mutual. So sweet. We ask each other several times, do you wanna use the loo? Out of genuine concern, and the familiarity was both bizarre and palpably comforting. Thankfully, our stomachs settled somewhat, and we continued our Sunday jaunt, doing a spot of shopping at pace, checking out sandals cos she said my sandals were ugly and didn't match my nice slim cut pants and short sleeved shirt. At her mum's, things got a bit awkward as mum started chatting non-stop about her apartment and how she and her husband managed to clinch the lease. Good thing for ST's impatience, else we might never have left the place. Dinner was good and taken at Geylang's beef horfun headquarters, and topped off with a bowl of beancurd. ST and her mum seemed happy to see each other, and I strangely fitted the equation as well. Another brief awkward silence was experienced only when ST's mum realised how old I was when we started sharing about how nice it was when Gluttons' Square was a permanent fixture, and how Centrepoint was only a Cold Storage supermarket with a Magnolia Milk Bar out front near the open carpark. Again, ST's impatience broke the silence with a 'Mum, he's nine years older than me'. As I write this, ST's SMSd again, "Feeling fat and full, but still greedy, how?". How indeed.