Broke out of my fast-sinking hermitdom to go see a movie with a couple of friends. Not that I’m not necessarily content with staying at home all day cooped up from the outside world, staring at the computer screen and/or reading 600-odd pages of chick lit for three hours straight. But DD pulled the plug on my internet access, so to speak – that is, he changed the password on the connection and won’t tell me the new one – which means I’m not even connected to the grand old cyberspace haven of the geeks. I swear – leprechauns skipping merrily over the fields of daisies in my head are slowly unbraiding the remaining threads of my sanity one by one. Give me another three days and I’ll have totally lost it. One good thing that’s come out of it is that I’ve stopped twitching altogether.

So. The movie. The ticket attendant actually makes the effort to ask us for identification when we request to buy children’s tickets. My only form of age-specific ID is my school student card and like hell I’m going to carry that around with me when I go to the movies! (If I get run over a bus and they need to find the identity of my mangled remains, they can do their own damn investigative work!) (Besides, I’ve already managed to lose my ID card.) In the end I had to get my friends to vouch for me that yes, I was a legit full-time student and was not trying to scrimp on the two bucks extra it would have cost me to get an adult ticket. Even then she still didn’t look totally convinced, more like she was just letting me off the hook this time because she couldn’t be bothered arguing.

Then after the movie had ended I was in the middle of wrestling JV’s phone away from her and getting D’s number so I could call him and make her talk to him. Can you believe it, two weeks and he still hasn’t called her! They looked bloody cosy on the ballroom dancing social night (hell, they had their arms around each other for the whole night) so it’s not very likely that he’s gone and gotten close to some other girl. (Still possible though, as a horror worst-case scenario, but don’t tell her I said that.) JV won’t call him because she reckons that’d make her look desperate (whatever happened to the girl taking the initiative and making the first move??) so acting as a good friend I have no choice but to call D for her myself. So anyway, we’re wrestling with her phone all the way out of the cinema, only mutually stopping for a few sec to fix our rapidly rising hemlines (squishy slippy seats, short denim skirts – you do the maths), neither of us willing to concede the prize. We end up wandering to the chock-full of sugary goodness lolly shop a few stores away with the phone still clenched in all four of our hands.

They are in the middle of creating a new batch of tailor-made worded sweets and we decide to stop and watch with, you guessed it, JV’s phone between us. One of the guys making the lollies start to shoot us these funny looks every so often. I’m thinking huh? Is he… and then – oh. Ohhh. He was checking JV out. My suspicions were further confirmed when he asks us, so what have you girls been up to today? Given that the people from the lolly shop weren’t normally the talkative type and he hadn’t attempted to strike a conversation with any of the other avid watchers of the lolly making, I can safely say that something about one of us, most likely JV, had caught his eye. Which was, frankly, very disturbing because he had to be at least ten years older than either of us if not even older. And that again got me thinking.

In all honesty, I’m still very young at heart and nowhere near being a ‘grown-up’. That is, unless I’m trying to convince my parents to let me go to some party or another. THAT’S when I’m as mature/reliable/responsible as the frickin’ wizard of Oz. But other than that, there’s still a long way to go from where I am now to full-time responsibility. Which I am so not ready for. And to think, the world already perceives the likes of myself as almost one of them, kind of like we’ve already crossed the line between jailbait and desirable. It freaks me out sometimes, that no one thinks I’m a child anymore. God, how I wish someone would open the door of childhood and innocence for me again.

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