The Midget, Part 1

I guess it's about time I blogged about the midget. I've already told many people about this, and I think many of you reading this will be among those people. But I think it's a story worth writing down and looking back on later, don't you?

I got the time wrong for a press conference one morning, and arrived about half an hour early. When I reached the venue, the only other person there was a photographer from one of the daily papers. I sat across from him, said hello and went on listening to my iPod, but he began talking to me so I responded. We ended up having a small chat about photography. Me being me, I asked a lot of questions.

A lot of old friends I talk to say that when they talk to me, they feel like they're being interviewed, but it's not something I do consciously. I don't think it's something that I've started doing only since becoming a journalist. I've been a curious kid all my life, and I am genuinely interested in the minutiae of other people's lives.

And so I discovered that he had become a full-time photographer only three years ago. Before that he was an engineer. He was 35. He worked only part-time at the paper, and spent the rest of his time taking wedding photos and such. I thought he was kind of cute.

Finally, the PR people felt they were ready to bring us to the room where the conference was being held, so we stood up to follow them. And then came the stunner: HE WAS MY HEIGHT.

Look, I know I'm short, and I have girlfriends shorter than me. But, DUDE, there is NO reason for a man to be that short if he's not from a third world Southeast Asian country.

Well, never mind, he was still kind of cute. And anyway, I'm a midget myself, right, so no judgement here.

We entered the conference room and for the next hour or so we each did our separate jobs. Then at lunch we sat next to each other and talked some more. Again, I asked all the questions. I found out that he had spent 8 months travelling all over Asia, including Kazakhstan, Pakistan, India, Iran and China. He'd spent about $8,000 in all. He was planning to spend a year in Cuba. He didn't believe in short holidays.

Then when I had to leave with the television crew for my free ride back to the office, he asked for my number!

I gave it to him.

Funny thing though -- when I got to the lift, he and his reporter appeared too. And in the lift the television reporter agreed to give them a ride in the van too. So in the van we talked some more. Again: me asking, him talking. He had just won a photo competition organised by a bank, and his photos were on exhibit at the Esplanade until July 20th. He was considering returning to the engineering life, all he would need to do was give one of his ex-colleagues a call. He had two weddings to attend in the next two weeks, and on both occasions he was one of the "brothers". He said, "All my friends are getting married one by one. I'll be the only one left on the shelf!" I don't care how cute you are, that's a really pathetic thing for a guy to say. Some of his photos were on his website, and he gave me the address.

The van dropped us off eventually, and then three of us -- me, photographer and reporter from daily paper -- waited by a stoplight. I realised that he was actually shorter than me now, because we were standing on a gentle slope. So I asked him, "What's your height? Are you the same height as me?"

He replied, "No I'm taller. I'm 158."

And in my head, I could only think, "BULLSHIT."

When I got back to the office, I took a look at his website. There were a few photos from Iran and India, which were really quite nice. I sent him an SMS, saying just that. He replied asking for my email address, so he could send me links to some of his other photos on the web. I gave it to him and said I would try to see his exhibition, maybe the next day, Saturday. He said the gallery was closed on Saturdays, which I thought was quite stupid. So I said ok, well that makes it a lot tougher. I'm so busy and I have to meet my friends on Sunday. And he said, bring your friends to the exhibition! And I said, no, I'd prefer to go alone and Saturdays are best because I can just go after my French class. And he said, wow he'd always wanted to learn a third language. And I asked which. And he said, Spanish, since he was planning to live in South America. And I said, I learnt a bit of Spanish before.

And then I realised this was a really long SMS conversation for someone who was really still a stranger, and I had to meet my boyfriend for dinner, so I stopped. But if I'm being honest with myself, it was kind of exciting. The Russian and I had just gotten over a fight at the time, and I was in one of my bored spells, and here was this new midget guy having a long SMS conversation with me, you know? I barely noticed that he hadn't asked me anything about myself. Any information he'd gotten about me I'd offered unbidden.

And so I was giggly, like a 16-year-old. But then the Russian came along.

Stay tuned for Part 2.