Taxi Driver Chronicles


I hailed a taxi on the way home earlier. When I got in, the driver was expressing his concerns about the lady that just got out of the cab.


He said the lady was flirting with him, asked him too many personal questions and was hoping he'd pick her up after work.

He then proceeded to tell me all about his lovelife -- how he doesn't love his current live-in partner, how he met and impregnated his ex-girlfriends, blah blah blah...

I just listened politely, nodding and reacting at the right moments. I wasn't really interested, so I looked out at the window the whole time. Then he started asking about me. I guess he ran out of lovescapades to tell. The conversations was translated from Tagalog, of course --

TaxiDriver: Are you married?

Me: No.

TaxiDriver: Boyfriend?

Me: None.

TaxiDriver: Why?

Me: It's a coincidence.

TaxiDriver: You look like you're good to your men, like you wouldn't give them anything to worry about.

Me: There's bound to be something.

TaxiDriver: Then it'll be jealousy.

Me: I doubt that.

TaxiDriver: You look like you've got good genes. You look like the type that it won't matter if you get older, men would still find you attractive.

Me: Riiiight.


It made me laugh, though, I didn't know what to make of it. I was in a really sour mood.


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