Married men? I'm a saint, not a sinner
ANYONE who knows me knows that I won't pick up the phone unless I know who is at the other end. Eight years ago, I wasn't so wary. One day my mobile rang and I answered. "Who's this?" a snippy woman's voice on the other end demanded. "You called me," I laughed, "Who are YOU?"
A fair question, I would have thought. Apparently not, the woman started ranting about the fact that I had called "her Liam" a few hours earlier. I protested that I hadn't called Liam, that I didn't, in fact, know anybody called Liam, but all to no avail.
Then I suddenly remembered that when attempting to call one of my friends earlier that day I had inadvertently called the wrong number. That must have been it, I told the woman, happy in the knowledge that this would put her mind at rest. "A likely story," she screamed. After another few minutes of abuse I hung up. She called back. She kept calling me at all hours of the day and night. For weeks.
I threatened her with the guards and she just laughed (for a change). Finally I said, seeing as Liam was such a catch I would call him. That was the end of that. Last week, a similar thing happened. I accepted a "friend request" on Facebook from an old college friend who I haven't seen or heard from in well over a decade. That was it, we didn't even exchange messages. The next day I got a friend request from a woman pointedly informing me she was my friend's wife, which I already knew as I was at their wedding!
For the record, I have never, ever, had relations with a married man. Mind you, I'm starting to wonder what all the fuss is about.
Sunday Indo Living