Friday, December 21, 2007

I remember the scene perfectly: classical music playing softly in the air, the clanking of spoons and forks and knives, waiters passing here and there. We were having dinner at Marco Polo, enjoying each other’s company.

I was busy cutting up my salad while talking about the latest book I read---Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (forgive me for being so late). I knew in the back of my head he had no idea what I was talking about, nor was he remotely interested in what I’m talking about, but I knew he had no choice but to listen. I still hadn’t forgiven him for letting me wait for an eternity to get a taxi because his Civic was under repair and I wouldn’t dare take Camry (CHICKEN).

After my ramblings, he looked at me straight in the eye and told me, ‘You know, I think I’m interested in this whole reading thing.’

That statement nearly choked me.

HUH? Did chickens learn to fly, too?
My boyfriend is not the ‘reading’ type. It’s like saying you got 1.0 in Layout or you don’t have a Friendster account or something. He must’ve read my expression and said, ‘I’m serious! Give me a book to read, I dare!’

I started screening all the books I have in my head, thinking of the perfect book for him. Crime and Punishment? Catcher in the Rye? Pride and Prejudice? Animal Farm? I finally decided on The Da Vinci Code, a book neither too beginners or too complex, and would be able to sustain interest, with an attention span as short as his.

Before I forget, NO, I am not underestimating my boyfriend whatsoever. I think he’s the sweetest, nicest, most understanding guy I’ve met, and remarkably smart too. He just HATES to show his wit. I suspect he thinks intelligence is tantamount to arrogance, and fears being called a know-it-all.

The following day, I dragged him to National Book Store to look around for good books. He couldn’t refuse; he got himself into this mess anyway. As we reached into the ‘General Knowledge’ section, and took out a Trivia book (Yes, I am a trivia buff. Problems?) I started shooting him trivia questions but he went back a few steps, refusing to look at me in the eye (this is another habit of him. He hates to admit that he doesn’t know the answer.)

‘Well? Do you know?’

‘No.’

‘The answers quite obvious. Neither! You don’t bury survivors, they’re still alive!”

‘Okay whatever.’

‘I got another question, Who is neither your brother or sister, but is the child of your mom and dad?’

‘Hey, look at this. Tongue Twisters!’ He picked up a book and opened it, then said out loud some stupid tongue twister about a photographer photographing a photograph whatever. ‘HAHAHA!’

‘That’s boring and plain rubbish. Why would someone buy a book about tongue twisters?

‘If it’s rubbish YOU try saying it. HA!’

Despite our six year difference, he is still such a kid.