Since yesterday was supposedly the most appropriate day to express ones’ love, that’s what I did. I confessed my undying love for myself.
One of the earliest posts on this blog was about short stories that I read quite some time ago. One of those stories that I really liked was The Man Who Married Himself. I was quite fascinated with it. I think that it’s quite possible that I might do such a thing. Okay, may be not, but you get the point.
Our office has this tradition on Valentine’s Day where anyone can buy a rose; write the name of the person he/she wishes to send it to and put it in a box. At the end of the day, the guy and gal who get the most number of roses are crowned the “King” and “Queen” of hearts.
I ended up with 3 roses, just one less than the guy who was crowned “King”. If only I had sent a rose to myself. I let myself down.
Also, apparently, I remind girls of their younger brothers. Last year, my batch mates told me this in unison and yesterday my new teammate told me the same. I don’t think I told you all but four newbies have joined my team and I’m not the youngest in my team anymore. But even they find me to be the most immature so things aren’t all that bad.