Serendipity

n. 1754 (but rare before 20c.), coined by Horace Walpole (1717-92) in a letter to Mann (dated Jan. 28); he said he formed it from the Persian fairy tale "The Three Princes of Serendip," whose heroes "were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of." Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001 Douglas Harper

It's been months since I last posted an entry here. The last post I made was about the first time I ever finished off half a bottle of wine. Now I want to tell you the second time I finished off another half bottle of wine. And yeah, as the title suggests... it was something serendipitous.

I say serendipitous because it was a discovery. I was not in quest of anything -- I was satisfied with my career (however little I made of it), with my lovelife (however non-existent it was), with my life in general (however abnormal it can be). I was content and at peace with where I am -- no need for adventure or something different. Until I got that bloody toe.

Yup you heard me. It all started earlier this year when accident-prone-me was walking along Salcedo street, wearing open-toe sandals, which is my usual attire in this hot and humid country. I then felt some minor irritation on my right toe. I looked and to my horror, there was a crack on my toenail, and a dark spot that needed some camouflaging. So off I went to a nearby parlor to get a pedicure.

For half-an-hour I was enjoying the pampering of a footspa with a free pedicure, until... OUCH!! The darn pedicurist pinched off a bit of my flesh on the right toe! And then... there was the sight of blood! Annoyed, I told the manager that i will only pay half of the price of the footspa service -- to which she agreed -- and left the parlor without giving anything to the pedicurist but a side glance that says "You blew it girl. Big time."

It wasn't really painful, but my toe was a real bloody mess. I walked towards the nearest drugstore, once in a while looking at my bleeding toe, and reaching down with a tissue to wipe off the blood so it does not trickle on the sidewalk. Of course, I wouldn't want traces of my blood on the street... lest someone gets my DNA and clones me. Okay that's exaggerated, I've just been watching too many medical fictions and hanging out with geeky friends.

Anyway, I repeated this action of "walk - look at my toe - wipe the blood off - walk again" until, a few meters away from the drugstore, I saw a familiar face walking my way. "Oh, the lawyer guy from IBC (my mother church) who lives in a condo in Makati," I thought to myself when I recognized him. Besides, that's all I know about him, and I haven't seen him in years! He gave me a surprised look, a question was already painted in his face, but I was first to break the non-verbal communication: "What are you doing here?" He pointed to the laptop bag and said that he needs to get his laptop fixed. He returned question, "And you?" I pointed to my toe and said "I stubbed my toe and I also need to get it fixed."

I was prepared to hear him say "Oh poor you, let me help you..." to which I shall respond "No need, I'm okay..." Ah, yes... I was the independent woman! I do not faint at the sight of blood. I am brave. But to my surprise, he gave a totally different reaction: He laughed. What?! My blood was gushing out of the system and spilling on the sidewalk... and all he did was laugh at me?? Now there you go, you so-called independent woman. You still wanted sympathy even if you will refuse help. Heh. Amused at that realization, I just said I needed to self-medicate and must now go to the drugstore. He, on the other hand, needed to revive his laptop. So we went our separate ways. Or so I thought.

After that bloody encounter -- and a few Facebook wall posts and text messages -- I found myself seated across him at Mickey's Deli. He treated me to a sumptuous yet balanced dinner of Crispy Pork Knuckles (this is the German version of the Pinoy Crispy Pata) and Ceasar Salad (to complement the rather unhealthy main dish). I will not hesitate to admit that there was a bottle of red wine (yes, I finished almost half of it, but he drank more wine than I did) and a cup of brewed coffee and pastries after (to neutralize the effect of the alcohol). The food was great. But more so the conversation. And the laughter! And it wasn't just the wine. He had enough wit to make me laugh, and was secure enough to laugh at himself. I should say, that was the most enjoyable date I ever had.

And so there it is, my friends, the second time I downed half a bottle of red wine around seven months ago (yeah this is such a delayed post, but there is value in hindsight). You may think that it was the wine that brought on the laughter. Well I thought so too. But by process of elimination, I realized that with him, with or without the wine, I was laughing. And I was happy.

And it all started the day I had a bloody toe and he had a broken laptop. Come to think of it, if not for that little pedicure accident, I would not be walking towards that drugstore. So you think I should go back to that parlor and give that darn pedicurist a tip???