Let me tell you something about me that may take you by surprise and I would really appreciate it if you, interested reader, stifled your giggles and tried not to laugh or go “Helga, you lie.” Don’t worry, it’s nothing personal, nothing that’ll make you go “Uh, TMI”; just a little FYI, just a little something to let you get to know me better.
I’m not really a talkative person. I’m serious. When out with friends, I’d rather everyone just shut up. Yes, I am exaggerating but you get my point: I’d take awkward silence over having the air filled with drivel and stupid banter. I hate it when people open their mouths for the sake of hearing their own voice and I hate unnecessary talking. Of course, “stupid” and “drivel” are relative and my favorite people and dearest friends are always brilliant and compelling conversationalists. They also provide a lot of lulz and advice on adult acne treatments (okay, maybe not).
When I was in high school, a boy peer once remarked that my future husband would probably be the unluckiest dude in the world because I was bound to be a nag of a wife. He then proceeded to mimic me: he raised his arm, jabbed his finger in the air and went “wah! wah! wah!” in a shrill, un-Helga voice. It was pretty silly and I (will admit) kinda hurtful. Whatever; I could see how Teenage Helga was obnoxious. I also didn’t really learn how to modulate my voice ’til I was in college.
I like quiet. Some days, I can go without uttering a single word out loud. On most days, the only conversation I have is when I have to buy something: “Isang pack ng Marlboro Reds” or “Stored value” or “Dalawang orders ng siomai, take out, no chili.” It’s a little sad but I’ve gotten used to it the same way I’ve gotten used to absence, to waiting.