Quiquay: quirks

This is a rather old entry I did but never posted. As you can see from the date, it was a looooooong time ago. Still, some of the lessons could still be used by others, I hope. The guy has long been forgotten and the memory has faded away. Read away.... 041206 A lady the never makes the first move. This rule has been drummed into my stubborn head too many times by the conservative society that I grew up in. But then again, it’s a rule I always chafed under. Now I’m desperately trying to resist the urge to make the first contact with the “guy”. It’s nothing, really. Just a “hi!” or whatever “witty” nonsense I could conjure out of the hat. But it’s not a good idea. There’s nothing for us to talk about. And nothing for me to say to him , except, “Hey, you owe me P500.” For a disaster, I think I would just have to mark that as a loss. The money is still worth a big deal to a spendthrift like me but given the consequences, I think I could afford to lose that much. So, how do I

The guys used to want me for my body... Now they only want me for my cookies. No really, chocolate chip cookies. Or oatmeal cookies. Or brownies. Or whatever dessert I manage to concoct in my kitchen when the mood suits me. What's up with that? Hey, I'm not complaining. I just find it weirdly (and privately) hilarious my cookies are now taking the center stage. This one time, Alpha guy dropped by for a quick visit because he "missed" me and once he got to my house, went immediately for the cookie jar. And then there's the childhood friend who, whenever he finds out I'm heading their direction, I get a cryptic SMS saying, "Cookies!" And if you think that comes with strings attached, you've got it wrong. He'll drive by the shop, drop a belated "hi!", smooch internet time from this laptop to show me his latest pictures online ( I call it his 'Show and tell', grab his cookies and wave goodbye. It's like raising a te