DISARMING A LADY

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

LET'S take a break from the toxic discussions of the unpardonable award the UST Alumni Association gave to the distinguished queen of fake news. Allow me to narrate a charming little incident that happened when I took an FX ride last Saturday en route to the meeting of the officers and batch representatives of the UST Education High School Alumni Association to discuss preparations for the Jan. 28 Alumni Grand Homecoming.

It was nearly 5 pm, when I hailed a UV ride en route to the UST Alumni Center, where the meeting was held. I sat beside a comely young woman, probably 31 or 32 years old. She was voluptuous and, by all standards, had an engaging profile. Her hair was dyed in heavy auburn, the color of autumn. She had hairs on her forearm. Balbon (hairy), as we describe them. She appeared to be in a pensive mood, as if she was trying to unlock the secrets of the world. Our eyes met when I opened the door and took a seat beside her.

We were seated on the second row of a cramp UV vehicle. There were only two of us, although other passengers were scattered on the other seats in front and at the back of the FX van. Because of her charm, I could not help but take a second look, a more probing look of her. Just to break the boredom in an FX ride. Just to kill time. Just to do some quiet, little aesthetic meanderings of my own. She noticed that I intently looked at her and this was the start of a nice, charming story.

"What now, Sir?" she told me in a firm, but somewhat negotiating tone. "Aba, ang angas (she's somewhat probing)," I told myself. "Inglesera pa (she's English speaking)," my inner self told me. I had the impression she is educated and most likely she perceived me as educated as well. I was momentarily lost for words. But thanks to my sense of agility and resiliency, or even my indomitable spirit, something came out of my mouth. "You deserve a second glance, Mam," I said in glowing recognition of her stubborn ability and desire to break the ice.

I saw her smiling. I knew I disarmed her. I threw her out of her deep contemplation on the mysteries of life. I saw her expecting for my next salvo. I could feel her. She was probably expecting me to ask some questions about her. Or a demonstration of being an Alpha Male from by uttering words of a proposition. But I did not follow my instinct. I did not pursue her. I did not say anything, in short. Not a word was exchanged afterwards.

There was sacramental silence as the FX van zigzagged through the notoriously wicked traffic jam of Espana. No, I did say a word. She was left unpropositioned. She went down in front of Ramon Magsasay High School. From the corner of my eyes, I saw her climbing the footbridge. I stayed on my seat and when the vehicle reached P. Noval, I went down to walk to the UST Alumni Center. Yes, silence has its charm