While Butch and Marga are getting to know each other better, I must have unconsciously picked up camouflage for my bursting heart in the form of Tina*.
Tina is from Dumaguete originally. She has long, dark, hair that falls past the middle of her back. And as we all saw at the last company outing, she can fill out a bikini very well. She is charming, funny and very sweet. Tina works in accounting. I know of her because she processes my foreign travel liquidations. The rest of the office knows of her because every European and American expat in the building drools every time she walks by. I believe the term they use to describe her behind her back is "Expat Killer".
Weeks back, Tina and I emerged from the elevator on the cafeteria floor at the same time, one day after another -- which started a trend of sharing lunch tables. She hitched a ride with me once when uncharacteristically, I left the office early and she was rushing home to watch, ahem, "Darna" (a show she has never missed apparently). We share good-natured jokes about our company's ultra-serious and political corporate culture -- something others may not appreciate.
The next thing I know, the whole office thinks we're an item. I don't say much which leaves room for people to speculate what I'm thinking/feeling -- and I hate that. I can just imagine it: a few more days of "love advice" from the oldies in Accounting, and Tina may just start to think something's going on with us herself.
I know where I stand and that should be enough -- Tina is a good person and a good friend. That's it. And my actions have been consistent with how I feel, so there should be no room for confusion.
In the meantime, I am enjoying how my cash advances and liquidations are going through the bureaucracy in record time. As my best friend Leonardo (alias Dong) puts it: "Dude, you're seeing this chick for the money."
*
not her real name.
