To be taken seriously and Not to be taken seriously

A woman had us, dancers, over for dinner. A dinner of Via Mare Pancit Luglug, Roasted Corned Beef, Bibingka, Puto Bumbong, and Music. Yes, Music. It was her recital. This woman was the swan flitting over the strings of her harp. Her teacher was at the piano and the man with a golden flute played his instrument.

After enjoying halo-halo in the cool outdoors, we had to shuttle indoors due to rain. Inside her den, I found myself in a conversation with the man with the golden flute. On the coffee table was a broken music box. "He could fix it," he said and claimed he could fix a lot of things. I told him, "I'd be his next customer if he could fix my life." He replied by saying something to this effect, "I could fix it. Why what's wrong with it?" I was stunned. My statement was meant to be a joke. He was serious. I told him that just like everyone a lot was wrong with it and that eventually led to a discussion about choices and making them.

In truth, I wanted to take his offer. Then and there. But I knew... I mean... know that he is straight. Well, supposedly. I blew it in that den. I should have seen where he would go if at the least I pretended to take his offer. He could have taken me seriously. I would have.