Borrowed this photo taken by a friend who I haven’t been able to convince to start even a photoblog. She takes great pictures.
About six years or so ago, I went and saw a fortune teller. He was an astrologer with a mean reputation for being right about most things. There were even rumours that some government bigwigs consulted him on whether Singapore was going to go to the dogs, and if so, how to prevent it. The same rumour mongers say that’s why the dollar coin has this polygon border, so it looks like a Chinese ‘Pak Kua’, so every Singaporean will at least have a talisman or two in his or her pocket.
This fortune teller, a shrivelly Indian man with Coke bottle glasses, took my name and birthday and asked me to come back in two days while he compiled my reading. And when I did, he said, wagging his head for emphasis:
“You ah, maaany voooman in your life ah”. [not the Chinese type of ‘ah’, but the curly wurly Indian ‘ah’ with a rising and falling inflection],
“Many vooooman give you maaany problem, ah.”
At this point I thought he’d go on to the other bits of my future. He did, but very briefly, before returning quite ominously to the topic of the voooman ah.
“Many voooman ah vaunting to give you their problem ah“.
I do get ribbed sometimes about how I have an endless stream of voooomen friending me and telling me all their problems. Sometimes, I get annoyed by it. The ribbing, and the friending and problem telling.
I remember copping heaps from my girlfriend when other voooomen would call at odd hours, wanting a chat, or worse, wanting to listen to my voice just so’s they could sleep. I thought being nasty would put them off, but obviously I wasn’t bright enough to realise that voooomen like the nasty ones. The bastardier you are, the more they call.
It’s only lately I’ve appreciated having many voooomen call and want to talk to me. A lot of them are responsible for keeping me sane. In a good way.
Once a while, I get to know a few I feel like telling them my problems instead. They seldom have the answers to my problems, but they do well enough just vaunting to talk to me. Doubly good if they’re pretty. They’re my angels, (and they know who they are).