04 March 2011

Low Masculine Voice

“Mamâ, bayad po! San Jose…” the person next to me uttered as she handed over her fare. I wasn’t even sure the person was a “she.”

“Saan?” the driver, short of hearing, just had to ask.

“San Jose …” the person said in a voice so low it was suspiciously masculine. My head instinctively swiveled to the side to sneak a look at the person.

Ah-ah…

What I saw was an oval feminine face, with shoulder-length hair tied into a neat ponytail. Plucked eyebrows, of course… Chiseled nose… Red lipstick….

I couldn’t really tell if she was pretty.

Still sneakily, my gaze dropped lower to examine the neck… Hmmmm… No hint of an Adam’s apple…


And still lower… She had on a pink round-necked shirt which covered just the hint of a cleavage. I couldn’t see any lower than the neckline because the person had a large handbag clutched close to her chest.

But I am making assumptions here in my use of pronouns. Were I brazen enough, I would have hooked a finger to the lower curve of her neckline and peeked inside just to satisfy my curiosity. For all I knew, there was a pair of rolled worn-out socks inside.

I didn’t, of course…

There are just things, in life, that you just sort of learn to suffer silently. Like curiosity left dissatisfied. After all, they do say that curiosity killed the cat…

Too bad a couple of college students soon got on to put an end to the gender search. In fairness, there was nothing at all to suggest she was a transvestite. Just that low, masculine voice…

[This story was first published on Facebook on 18 September 2008.]





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