forgive my untrusting nature. when i was younger and i wanted to go out with guys (guy friends, boyfriend, companions of the male kind) my mom always interrogated me and my automatic respond was always, "ala ma....it's not some serial killer la ma. dia baik."diana, percayalah cakap abang. takde lelaki baik dalam dunia ni.
and my mom would make this shocked face, "ish, diana...takut mama dengar diana cakap mcm tu. sume org 'baik', mane diana tau die tu baik macamane. diana dah duduk ngan die 20 taun ke?"
well, bref. the stagiaire who's on the same floor as me told us something that totally buat aku choquée today. her maitre de stage, yang slame die ni ckp super baik, peramah, best : pegang peha dia and tried to kiss her yesterday. boleh tak!
dahlah mamat tu dah kawin ade anak bagai.
i mean in paris there's bound to be crazy people, perverts and flashers on the street that you DON'T KNOW PERSONALLY. so the trauma (if you were ever unfortunate enough) is fleeting. but to see a person everyday and have to pretend nothing happened?
adekah sume lelaki are secret perverts yg fait n'importe quoi kalo die rase he won't get caught?
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