Occasionally

Alex goes on a date!

Are you really sure about this?

Then hit send. I tapped my feet as I cannot keep my anticipation. A part of my brain still cannot process the idea since it happened so quickly. 

Yesterday, before the clock hit 5 PM, one of my colleagues suddenly came up to me. Paula is a really good colleague, albeit a little bit too conceited in her looks, and we hang out more often than others in the office.

She said, "Alex, you're free tomorrow, right?"

"Saturday?" I made a mental calendar on my mind whether or not I had some tasks in mind. Nothing. Well, to be fair, Saturdays were always best enjoyed spontaneously while Sundays are reserved when I go home to our house in Quezon City. I replied, "Sure. Why?"

"You dated a lot of people, right?" She grinned. "Do you want to go on a date?"

I sneered at her. "Paula, you know I don't like you that way. Never will be."

She rolled her eyes at me and did a quick slap on my shoulder like she always does. "Of course not me, bitch. It's my friend."

I snorted. "You? Setting me up with someone?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, he's my best friend."

"Are you out of your mind?"

She slapped my arm again. This time, it hurt a little. "Why would I joke about this? Do you want this or not?"

"I'm curious about this guy." I turned to my computer for a while to turn it off. "Besides, maybe he's not my type."

She laughed. "Bitch, if I were gay, I would definitely date my best friend."

"Do you even have a picture?"

She mouthed, "Wait." And then opened her phone and swiped for a bit while I put some things on my desk to my knapsack. She almost shoved her phone to my face when she showed me the picture.

"His name is Karl," she proudly mentioned with a wide grin on her face. "He's cute and available."

She's not lying. He is cute with his wide grin and flashing eyes. At first, all I could see is that he's just a plain guy—an unkept barber's cut, a green t-shirt that says I like books and I cannot lie, jeans, and white shoes. He wore glasses that suited his almost round face. And he just looks extruding with happiness in this photo. He's on the way to being my type.

"He looks nice," I said to her.

"Nice is an insult for him," she clapped back. "Don't you like his cute face?"

I sighed. "I do, I guess."

"So you're free tomorrow?"

"What would I gain from this?" I asked. It's not like I have some other things planned on that Saturday night. Usually, Saturdays are reserved for me-time—that is, casual hook-ups, even a spontaneous dinner that will eventually lead to sex. When I feel that libido, I make sure to satisfy it.

"A cute boyfriend." She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow. "But an enemy if you dare to hurt him. I swear to God if you ever lay a hand on him—"

"Alright, alright. I get it." I stood up and we walked together outside of the office. "Wait. You'll not be there as the third wheel, right?"

"Ew. No. I have no interest in flirting gays," she said. "But I'll deliver him to you tomorrow at Glorietta."

"Time?"

"Around 7 pm."

7 PM. She clearly said 7 PM back then. I even confirmed it earlier this morning.