Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Man Without a Plan
Since my previous trip back to Singapore before the last weekend, life has inevitably changed with the passing of the time. I was at a different place emotionally and spiritually and with work and DL dominating the theme of my existence, anything that is happening or not happening was conveniently tucked at the back of my mind and took second place.
It was just early last month, only eight weeks ago that I left Singapore before I returned again last weekend. On that Sunday that I left, I had said my goodbye to Dr. Jekyll & Hyde when I took a special trip to his place to see him for one last time.
When I got no reply after three attempts at sms-ing him in the first week when I was back, I told myself that this was it. At the back of my sentimental mind, I was wishing hope against hope that I would see him again. I had a plan to hasten my desire- I would spend an extra couple of hundred dollars and was to fly back for the weekend on my way back from my work trip in Hong Kong (alas, I finally made it there except M has left the place permanently ten days before I arrived). But let nature take its course. Do not over force the situation to make it happen. So I practiced my mind to suppress over the course of the eight weeks any strong anticipation for this trip lest I returned with that sad, disappointed and empty feeling that I have experienced one too a many time with people. Leading up to homecoming, I felt a sense of calmness (taking care not to let that thought of just seeing Dr. Jekyll & Hyde excite me too much as I know where my wildest and wandering imagination could lead me to hope) and instead, focused on being able to catch up with my best friends and party like crazy to celebrate our birthdays. Dr. Jekyll & Hyde must remain as a side dish at all costs.
This was my plan.
****
I arranged to meet Harry at St. James last Friday night. Partying is no fun without my good buddy from the old days of eleven years before I lived a few battered lives over in a span of the last seven years. Bring the boys, I texted. I hoped to see Dr. Jekyll & Hyde and rekindle that Velvet Night.
That afternoon, I was at my father’s office. I was still in a calm state, not seething with excitement to see Dr. Jekyll & Hyde. But nevertheless, I thought I should give him a call anyhow. After all, a big part of me did come back hoping to catch a glimpse of him. So I dialed the number.
It rang three times. But then someone stood next to me at the desk and wanted to use the scanner. So I hung up.
Five minutes later, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde returned the call. My father’s worker picked up and put him on hold, asking if I had called my friend, G.
I picked up the call.
“Hi G, this is P. How are you?”
“Good, good.”
“I am back for the weekend and am wondering if you might be free to go out tonight.”
“Wow. This week is a bit tight and I have to work tonight…”
“Ok…”
“Give, give, erhm…”
“Give Harry a call?”
“Yeah…”
“I have and we are going to St. James with him and his workmates. Join us if you can…”
“Ok, I’ll try. I’ll try to join you guys later if I can…”
“Yup. I better let you go. Talk later. Bye…”
“Bye…”
Ok, I have done my pitch, I told myself. I figured he wasn’t coming and decided to hold that attitude and put myself in that frame of mind.
Then I went about doing what I was doing.
****
That night, I met up with Harry.
Harry was a happy man. He has found love.
“Remember the girl I told you I met on my birthday at MOS the last time I bumped into you in Velvet?”
Harry’s eyes were beaming with excitement. I have never seen that in him.
“You guys have only been going out for two weeks though.” I cautioned.
“No, I feel it’s different this time. I have never met a girl on the same wavelength as me. Her humour… I want you to meet her tonight. She’s coming later…”
“Look at you and your face. Someone is falling in love…” I teased him. My tone was mushy.
I spotted that smirk on his face. He gave me the third finger.
We both laughed.
Harry has even re-considered his options of getting out of the navy. He had so wanted to do so the last we spoke eight weeks ago and all this while, fervently waiting to finish serving his bond so that he could perhaps get out into the private sector and get a job like Dr. Jekyll & Hyde. After all, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde got his first job as a tobacco professional through Harry when Harry did an internship at university and could not take up this position.
“I don’t know. The money is getting too good…”
I knew it has something to do with his new girl. She is a teacher.
The power of being in love and what it can do to someone. Harry has found his calling at this port and that wild boy in him is longing for the security and stability of his designated harbour.
And it was just eight weeks ago that he had a different mindset.
People must all move on, mustn’t they?
Harry never failed to remind me each time we meet up about the longest time I took to get over Mr. London (whom he went to school with and he deemed a loser). Mr. London is a rich brat.
I took eight years to get over that boy. (In Paris and I schemed for years to squeeze that money out of my savings to travel to that part of the year and find that excuse to visit him in London.)
Eight weeks on, even distracted, fun party boy Harry has a good plan figured out.
Harry is all set by his state of love.
****
Harry asked what would make my night as we partied on. I looked semi-dull in spirits.
I named my desire. I wanted to see Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
Harry texted him.
P wants to see you;p~
Not free.
I pulled a face of mock sadness.
“Aww… you know he works at night right? He has to sell hard at night spots in his job…”
I shrugged my shoulders, hiding my real disappointment.
“Don’t worry. I expected it.” I resumed my usual mock smile.
Then we switched topics.
****
That night, Harry, his girlfriend Sara and myself sat by the bar in the crowded disco and we started reminiscing about our youth. Sara got an insight into the world before she came along.
She is a great girl- the most compatible person with Harry so far. I truly give them my blessings. She is a true and true female version of Harry and we made fast girly friends.
In the midst of our conversation, Harry pulled out his phone. He had six missed calls from Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
We peered at the missed call ID and Sara hurried Harry to return his call.
“Hurry up, call back. This call is important!” Sara urged Harry and looked at me excitedly.
I smiled a little sheepishly, careful not to be bowed over by my own excitement.
“Hey bro, where are you?”
Harry mouthed Butter Factory at us girls. I signaled for him to ask him to come.
“Are you alright- you sound drunk!
Are you still coming? I’ll pass the phone to P.”
Harry shoved the phone to me. The club was noisy and crowded.
“Come!”
“Okay!” He answered frivolously. He sounded inebriated.
“Come!”
“Okay!”
I passed the phone back to Harry.
“Hey, I don’t think he would make it. He sounded drunk.”
Harry’s face was apprehensive as he broke the news to me.
I smiled to hide my disappointment. At the back of mind, I was half expecting it too. I was not to take Dr. Jekyll & Hyde too seriously I have prepped myself.
The three of us continued talking and reminiscing. For some moments, I did tugged him away at the furthermost end of my mind and was genuinely enjoying my company with all that catching up and watching the blissfulness of the two lovebirds. It made me happy to see my friends basking in that sense of happiness. In fact, I was semi envious.
Then Harry’s phone rang again minutes later and he picked up the call.
“Huh? You are on your way ah?” Harry eyed me smiling.
I beamed.
“Drink up, drink up!” Sara hurried me, playing up the mood.
I sucked on the straw placed in the jug of vodka cranberry. I figured I needed to sum up some Dutch Courage myself.
I didn’t think I would get a chance to see him.
****
I decided to head for the bathroom while waiting. Sara decided to come along. She held my hand and we pushed our way in the crowd.
We walked past the entrance and there entered Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
I gave him a coy smile.
It must be a split second later that a slim girl in a white singlet tank top and jeans appeared on his side. I think she held his hand.
What the fuck? I thought to myself and was quick to re-compose myself.
Sara held my hand and continued to walk on, looking slightly horrified as she eyed me quickly and nodded like she knew what my question was. The girl stopped her when she noticed Sara.
“Hey!” She sounded a little tipsy.
“Hey, you’re also here ah!”
We continued walking and the slim girl followed us instead.
She had a few Caucasian male friends and Asian female friends standing behind her.
“Hey, I’m here because my boyfriend said some fat bitch wanted to see him…”
My eyes widened a little and so did Sara’s. I continued maintaining my cool. I was fast discounting Dr. Jekyll & Hyde in my mind. What the fuck and what is he trying to achieve here were the thoughts flashing through my head. I was wondering if he meant to humiliate me.
We reached the long queue at the bathroom.
The slim girl looked slightly hyper.
In her ultra fake accent and self-consciousness, she continued.
“I am usually a very nice person. I’m usually very nice but…oh my name is Sarah…”
She introduced herself to me.
“Hi Sarah. So you’ve got the same name as Sara.” I asked calmly while I maintained that smile.
“No, I am Sarah with the ‘h’.” She smiled at me in a nice friendly way.
I continued maintaining my smile.
“My name is P, by the way. Nice to meet you.” I smiled graciously and extended my hand.
Before she could continue ranting on, it was our turn to head into the cubicle. I pulled Harry’s Sara into the toilet with me.
“Ok, P calm down. This girl will be going home with him tonight. Don’t do anything.”
“I know. I just cannot believe it.”
Sara was just as bewildered as me.
“P, forget him. Although he’s Harry’s buddy and really a nice guy, but I must say he’s currently quite messed up emotionally. Stay away from him.”
“Yeah, debris that I need to chuck out right?”
I braved a smile and Sara probably detected the bravado.
“Forget him.”
*****
We got out and were back at the bar where Harry stood waiting.
Harry’s face was embarrassed and horrified. He looked apologetic.
I was quiet and then I tried to pull that mock smile on my face.
The mood became sombre while live Chinese band singing songs from the days of Beyond continued blasting away.
That moment all that was resonating in my ears were my pain and humiliation for being a “Fat bitch”. That “I” in me was suffering.
First the girlfriend was brought in to front me and then I was called fat.
Who else could have planted the idea of a fat bitch to his girlfriend, Sarah except for Dr. Jekyll & Hyde himself?
I almost felt like my best friend has sprung a surprise attack on me and I have all along mistook an Enemy for my best buddy.
I sat on the stool facing the bartender and Sara sat sideways facing me.
Harry then disappeared from our side.
At some stage, I turned my head and saw Harry a little distance away from us, his back facing us. He was talking to Dr. Jekyll & Hyde, his girlfriend and her friends. The whole gang was looking at me. Squashed in the crowd, Harry acted like a barricade with his tall frame and wide open arms barring them from forcing entry in our direction. I don’t know if they actually did want to force their way over anyhow. But it was definitely a tensed moment and I knew Harry was playing the role of the mediator.
At some stage, I thought Dr. Jekyll & Hyde stood behind me.
He whispered in my ear.
“Hi P.”
I ignored him.
Then he must’ve have disappeared.
When Harry was back, I asked him if Sarah now knew that I was that fat bitch of a girl her boyfriend came down to see.
Harry nodded.
A while later, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde must’ve came back.
“Hi P.” He whispered in my ear again.
The place was still noisy and crowded.
“Why aren’t you drinking. You don’t seem to be drinking a lot tonight…” He tried to sound light and jovial like nothing happened.
I cut him and fired up.
“I don’t appreciate your girlfriend calling me a fat bitch and you bringing her here. If you guys have issues, go settle in your own backyard. Don’t drag her here while I am around, I don’t need to know…”
“I am sorry if you think this way. I really came here on my own…”
“Then why is she here?!”
“She called me and then she asked me where I was and I bumped into her”
“You could have not come and changed courses then…”
He was getting defensive.
There was no cohesion in his defense.
“I am sorry if this is what you think but all I said was the truth. I really came here alone and it’s up to you to believe me…”
“Well, if you guys have issues, go sort that out the mess amongst yourselves, don’t get me involved here. You go settle your own mess here, don’t bring your girlfriend into the picture!”
I was firing up and so was he and we were both diverging away from our argument.
“It’s up to you whether you want to believe on what I said…” He walked off.
I looked away.
Sara and Harry appeared (or were they around all this while?).
They held my hand.
Harry apologized.
“P, I am truly sorry for what has happened. I feel like I am caught in a difficult situation. On one hand, G is my buddy and on the other, you are my good friend and I’ve known you for so long…”
“Harry, I am sorry that I put you in such a difficult situation and guys, I now wished he didn’t come because the three of us were really having a good time. Sorry that I ruined your night. I’m sorry…”
“No… please don’t be…please, that wasn't what I meant” Sara and Harry squeezed my hand tight.
Tears were brimming in my eyes. I sucked in my breath and pulled that mock smile.
“So Harry, tell me. Did you know that his girl was coming when he was on his way?”
Harry shook his head sadly.
I looked up and saw Dr. Jekyll & Hyde, his girlfriend and her gang at my 2 o’clock at a distance around the bar counter. They looked on in my direction. They must have noticed the tears despite that mock ironic sad smile on my face. I turned my face away.
“Come, let me take you home.” Harry took charge and both Harry and Sara held my hand and let me out of the bar.
Outside the bar, I let my tears flow freely.
I felt pained at the imperfection of the night, barring that egotistical “I” of feeling the humiliation of being deemed a fat person by Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
I guess I could channel this energy into anger and contempt for him maybe I’ll get over him faster. But no, I cannot in my heart find that strength to do so.
****
“I am a fool to fly home for the weekend and wishing hope against hope to catch a glimpse of him. I am sorry I ruined our night. Guys, I am so sorry…”
“P, please don’t feel this way. I really feel bad for you. I didn’t know how to warn you. Although he’s my buddy, he’s quite messy and don’t waste your time…”
“Please don’t feel bad for me. He’s still your buddy. Going forward, when you get married, him and I will be there. We’ll still crossed paths again. Don’t feel stuck in an awkward position, I’ll get over him...”
****
Like V said, there is probably not a moment of lucidity in his mind.
What the fuck was he thinking? I asked myself too many times over even at the scene where this crazy act was being played out before me.
I have always been a strategist at any given situation.
I truly believed he came on his own.
But what was he trying to achieve by telling his girlfriend that a “fat” girl wanted to see him? To make her jealous at my expense or what? Or was it his way of appeasing her not to come because it was only a “fat” girl?
Could he not have said that he was coming to meet up with Harry?
He didn’t have to come that night after he had said he wasn’t free. No one (i.e. myself and Harry) pressed the point. He was the one who made the call.
What good would this situation do to his relationship with his girlfriend if they were trying to work things out? I could only imagine more quarrels along the way.
And the girl- why would a “fat” girl warrant her jealousy?
Didn't she think that it must take two hands to clap and shouldn’t she first question why her boyfriend would bother take the effort to come see the “fat” girl? Shouldn’t she see that as her boyfriend’s problem and not the other girl’s problem since he is responding to her advances?
When she shot her mouth about the “fat” bitch to Sara before my presence (a stranger), did it ever once occur that I could be that “fat” bitch that her boyfriend was seeing?
Or did she not think I was fat enough and in her mind, the idea of a fat person also equates to an unattractive looking person?
That night, my face was radiant and if ever one is to be so imprudent and using my cosmetic surgeon’s critical eye to judge, I must say this girl needed a lot of work on her face. Apart from being tall and slim, she has had such an imperfect and forgettable face. No defined face shape, smallish features and dark hair that seemed naturally wavy.
What was her reaction when she realized later that the girl she was friendly to was in fact the “fat” girl in question?
I looked radiant, V had earlier said to me that night at St. James. To blow my own horn, I always have a somewhat strikingly pretty face that turned heads. V called me aristocratic looking when we were 15. I think it has something to do with my fair complexion, sharp nose and long hair. Some people mistake me for a Japanese, others Eurasian.
Quietly, I wondered if that stumped her because she made no real attempt to come over and create a scene (as her earlier outburst before Sara and me would have suggested an open fire with her Opponent) although I knew she watched me from afar.
****
Actually, this is about Dr. Jekyll & Hyde and me. Not the girl, she just happened to be the not too clever victim herself.
This fiasco was brought about because of the way he handled the situation.
Did he have a plan or did he not?
What was he thinking or not thinking?
As a person who always pre-empts and manages crises on a daily existence, Dr Jekyll & Hyde’s actions fazed me.
Maybe that’s why his life was messy.
He once said that his ex-girlfriends all took him for granted. Shrieking responsibility.
Then I told him, “ You know right? It is because you allowed it.”
Like I allowed this Man without a Plan to unsettle me, which put me in an emotionally vulnerable position.
****
Going forward, the Man without a Plan has allowed me to formulate a new plan for my life.
I do need to go on my diet. I really must (although model-like good looks and shaped Windsor repeatedly told me last week that I am not fat and rich boy Nano is bent on shaping up before I returned to Manila in September to look good next to me; Nano called me hotlast night)as I am feeling a tad pudgy of late.
The first thing my father said when I got home last week was, “Girl, you look like you have gained three kilos.”
It starts becoming a serious matter when your Dad proposes you a weight loss programme.
The parting words from my parents at the airport were also, “The next time we see you, we would like to see you lose weight. Please!”
So Dr. Jekyll & Hyde’s girlfriend’s words (really courtesy of Dr. J&H) served as a double whammy.
I weighed myself today. Damn, I really have never been this heavy before.
Time to head back for the gym and get a personal trainer.
I am determined to look as close to perfection (as subjectively defined by my own standards of course) as one could get.
Watch me, I’ll be losing weight with a vengeance and will be back in September to take on the world and take him on.
Does that sound like a plan to you, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde? :p
Since my previous trip back to Singapore before the last weekend, life has inevitably changed with the passing of the time. I was at a different place emotionally and spiritually and with work and DL dominating the theme of my existence, anything that is happening or not happening was conveniently tucked at the back of my mind and took second place.
It was just early last month, only eight weeks ago that I left Singapore before I returned again last weekend. On that Sunday that I left, I had said my goodbye to Dr. Jekyll & Hyde when I took a special trip to his place to see him for one last time.
When I got no reply after three attempts at sms-ing him in the first week when I was back, I told myself that this was it. At the back of my sentimental mind, I was wishing hope against hope that I would see him again. I had a plan to hasten my desire- I would spend an extra couple of hundred dollars and was to fly back for the weekend on my way back from my work trip in Hong Kong (alas, I finally made it there except M has left the place permanently ten days before I arrived). But let nature take its course. Do not over force the situation to make it happen. So I practiced my mind to suppress over the course of the eight weeks any strong anticipation for this trip lest I returned with that sad, disappointed and empty feeling that I have experienced one too a many time with people. Leading up to homecoming, I felt a sense of calmness (taking care not to let that thought of just seeing Dr. Jekyll & Hyde excite me too much as I know where my wildest and wandering imagination could lead me to hope) and instead, focused on being able to catch up with my best friends and party like crazy to celebrate our birthdays. Dr. Jekyll & Hyde must remain as a side dish at all costs.
This was my plan.
****
I arranged to meet Harry at St. James last Friday night. Partying is no fun without my good buddy from the old days of eleven years before I lived a few battered lives over in a span of the last seven years. Bring the boys, I texted. I hoped to see Dr. Jekyll & Hyde and rekindle that Velvet Night.
That afternoon, I was at my father’s office. I was still in a calm state, not seething with excitement to see Dr. Jekyll & Hyde. But nevertheless, I thought I should give him a call anyhow. After all, a big part of me did come back hoping to catch a glimpse of him. So I dialed the number.
It rang three times. But then someone stood next to me at the desk and wanted to use the scanner. So I hung up.
Five minutes later, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde returned the call. My father’s worker picked up and put him on hold, asking if I had called my friend, G.
I picked up the call.
“Hi G, this is P. How are you?”
“Good, good.”
“I am back for the weekend and am wondering if you might be free to go out tonight.”
“Wow. This week is a bit tight and I have to work tonight…”
“Ok…”
“Give, give, erhm…”
“Give Harry a call?”
“Yeah…”
“I have and we are going to St. James with him and his workmates. Join us if you can…”
“Ok, I’ll try. I’ll try to join you guys later if I can…”
“Yup. I better let you go. Talk later. Bye…”
“Bye…”
Ok, I have done my pitch, I told myself. I figured he wasn’t coming and decided to hold that attitude and put myself in that frame of mind.
Then I went about doing what I was doing.
****
That night, I met up with Harry.
Harry was a happy man. He has found love.
“Remember the girl I told you I met on my birthday at MOS the last time I bumped into you in Velvet?”
Harry’s eyes were beaming with excitement. I have never seen that in him.
“You guys have only been going out for two weeks though.” I cautioned.
“No, I feel it’s different this time. I have never met a girl on the same wavelength as me. Her humour… I want you to meet her tonight. She’s coming later…”
“Look at you and your face. Someone is falling in love…” I teased him. My tone was mushy.
I spotted that smirk on his face. He gave me the third finger.
We both laughed.
Harry has even re-considered his options of getting out of the navy. He had so wanted to do so the last we spoke eight weeks ago and all this while, fervently waiting to finish serving his bond so that he could perhaps get out into the private sector and get a job like Dr. Jekyll & Hyde. After all, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde got his first job as a tobacco professional through Harry when Harry did an internship at university and could not take up this position.
“I don’t know. The money is getting too good…”
I knew it has something to do with his new girl. She is a teacher.
The power of being in love and what it can do to someone. Harry has found his calling at this port and that wild boy in him is longing for the security and stability of his designated harbour.
And it was just eight weeks ago that he had a different mindset.
People must all move on, mustn’t they?
Harry never failed to remind me each time we meet up about the longest time I took to get over Mr. London (whom he went to school with and he deemed a loser). Mr. London is a rich brat.
I took eight years to get over that boy. (In Paris and I schemed for years to squeeze that money out of my savings to travel to that part of the year and find that excuse to visit him in London.)
Eight weeks on, even distracted, fun party boy Harry has a good plan figured out.
Harry is all set by his state of love.
****
Harry asked what would make my night as we partied on. I looked semi-dull in spirits.
I named my desire. I wanted to see Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
Harry texted him.
P wants to see you;p~
Not free.
I pulled a face of mock sadness.
“Aww… you know he works at night right? He has to sell hard at night spots in his job…”
I shrugged my shoulders, hiding my real disappointment.
“Don’t worry. I expected it.” I resumed my usual mock smile.
Then we switched topics.
****
That night, Harry, his girlfriend Sara and myself sat by the bar in the crowded disco and we started reminiscing about our youth. Sara got an insight into the world before she came along.
She is a great girl- the most compatible person with Harry so far. I truly give them my blessings. She is a true and true female version of Harry and we made fast girly friends.
In the midst of our conversation, Harry pulled out his phone. He had six missed calls from Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
We peered at the missed call ID and Sara hurried Harry to return his call.
“Hurry up, call back. This call is important!” Sara urged Harry and looked at me excitedly.
I smiled a little sheepishly, careful not to be bowed over by my own excitement.
“Hey bro, where are you?”
Harry mouthed Butter Factory at us girls. I signaled for him to ask him to come.
“Are you alright- you sound drunk!
Are you still coming? I’ll pass the phone to P.”
Harry shoved the phone to me. The club was noisy and crowded.
“Come!”
“Okay!” He answered frivolously. He sounded inebriated.
“Come!”
“Okay!”
I passed the phone back to Harry.
“Hey, I don’t think he would make it. He sounded drunk.”
Harry’s face was apprehensive as he broke the news to me.
I smiled to hide my disappointment. At the back of mind, I was half expecting it too. I was not to take Dr. Jekyll & Hyde too seriously I have prepped myself.
The three of us continued talking and reminiscing. For some moments, I did tugged him away at the furthermost end of my mind and was genuinely enjoying my company with all that catching up and watching the blissfulness of the two lovebirds. It made me happy to see my friends basking in that sense of happiness. In fact, I was semi envious.
Then Harry’s phone rang again minutes later and he picked up the call.
“Huh? You are on your way ah?” Harry eyed me smiling.
I beamed.
“Drink up, drink up!” Sara hurried me, playing up the mood.
I sucked on the straw placed in the jug of vodka cranberry. I figured I needed to sum up some Dutch Courage myself.
I didn’t think I would get a chance to see him.
****
I decided to head for the bathroom while waiting. Sara decided to come along. She held my hand and we pushed our way in the crowd.
We walked past the entrance and there entered Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
I gave him a coy smile.
It must be a split second later that a slim girl in a white singlet tank top and jeans appeared on his side. I think she held his hand.
What the fuck? I thought to myself and was quick to re-compose myself.
Sara held my hand and continued to walk on, looking slightly horrified as she eyed me quickly and nodded like she knew what my question was. The girl stopped her when she noticed Sara.
“Hey!” She sounded a little tipsy.
“Hey, you’re also here ah!”
We continued walking and the slim girl followed us instead.
She had a few Caucasian male friends and Asian female friends standing behind her.
“Hey, I’m here because my boyfriend said some fat bitch wanted to see him…”
My eyes widened a little and so did Sara’s. I continued maintaining my cool. I was fast discounting Dr. Jekyll & Hyde in my mind. What the fuck and what is he trying to achieve here were the thoughts flashing through my head. I was wondering if he meant to humiliate me.
We reached the long queue at the bathroom.
The slim girl looked slightly hyper.
In her ultra fake accent and self-consciousness, she continued.
“I am usually a very nice person. I’m usually very nice but…oh my name is Sarah…”
She introduced herself to me.
“Hi Sarah. So you’ve got the same name as Sara.” I asked calmly while I maintained that smile.
“No, I am Sarah with the ‘h’.” She smiled at me in a nice friendly way.
I continued maintaining my smile.
“My name is P, by the way. Nice to meet you.” I smiled graciously and extended my hand.
Before she could continue ranting on, it was our turn to head into the cubicle. I pulled Harry’s Sara into the toilet with me.
“Ok, P calm down. This girl will be going home with him tonight. Don’t do anything.”
“I know. I just cannot believe it.”
Sara was just as bewildered as me.
“P, forget him. Although he’s Harry’s buddy and really a nice guy, but I must say he’s currently quite messed up emotionally. Stay away from him.”
“Yeah, debris that I need to chuck out right?”
I braved a smile and Sara probably detected the bravado.
“Forget him.”
*****
We got out and were back at the bar where Harry stood waiting.
Harry’s face was embarrassed and horrified. He looked apologetic.
I was quiet and then I tried to pull that mock smile on my face.
The mood became sombre while live Chinese band singing songs from the days of Beyond continued blasting away.
That moment all that was resonating in my ears were my pain and humiliation for being a “Fat bitch”. That “I” in me was suffering.
First the girlfriend was brought in to front me and then I was called fat.
Who else could have planted the idea of a fat bitch to his girlfriend, Sarah except for Dr. Jekyll & Hyde himself?
I almost felt like my best friend has sprung a surprise attack on me and I have all along mistook an Enemy for my best buddy.
I sat on the stool facing the bartender and Sara sat sideways facing me.
Harry then disappeared from our side.
At some stage, I turned my head and saw Harry a little distance away from us, his back facing us. He was talking to Dr. Jekyll & Hyde, his girlfriend and her friends. The whole gang was looking at me. Squashed in the crowd, Harry acted like a barricade with his tall frame and wide open arms barring them from forcing entry in our direction. I don’t know if they actually did want to force their way over anyhow. But it was definitely a tensed moment and I knew Harry was playing the role of the mediator.
At some stage, I thought Dr. Jekyll & Hyde stood behind me.
He whispered in my ear.
“Hi P.”
I ignored him.
Then he must’ve have disappeared.
When Harry was back, I asked him if Sarah now knew that I was that fat bitch of a girl her boyfriend came down to see.
Harry nodded.
A while later, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde must’ve came back.
“Hi P.” He whispered in my ear again.
The place was still noisy and crowded.
“Why aren’t you drinking. You don’t seem to be drinking a lot tonight…” He tried to sound light and jovial like nothing happened.
I cut him and fired up.
“I don’t appreciate your girlfriend calling me a fat bitch and you bringing her here. If you guys have issues, go settle in your own backyard. Don’t drag her here while I am around, I don’t need to know…”
“I am sorry if you think this way. I really came here on my own…”
“Then why is she here?!”
“She called me and then she asked me where I was and I bumped into her”
“You could have not come and changed courses then…”
He was getting defensive.
There was no cohesion in his defense.
“I am sorry if this is what you think but all I said was the truth. I really came here alone and it’s up to you to believe me…”
“Well, if you guys have issues, go sort that out the mess amongst yourselves, don’t get me involved here. You go settle your own mess here, don’t bring your girlfriend into the picture!”
I was firing up and so was he and we were both diverging away from our argument.
“It’s up to you whether you want to believe on what I said…” He walked off.
I looked away.
Sara and Harry appeared (or were they around all this while?).
They held my hand.
Harry apologized.
“P, I am truly sorry for what has happened. I feel like I am caught in a difficult situation. On one hand, G is my buddy and on the other, you are my good friend and I’ve known you for so long…”
“Harry, I am sorry that I put you in such a difficult situation and guys, I now wished he didn’t come because the three of us were really having a good time. Sorry that I ruined your night. I’m sorry…”
“No… please don’t be…please, that wasn't what I meant” Sara and Harry squeezed my hand tight.
Tears were brimming in my eyes. I sucked in my breath and pulled that mock smile.
“So Harry, tell me. Did you know that his girl was coming when he was on his way?”
Harry shook his head sadly.
I looked up and saw Dr. Jekyll & Hyde, his girlfriend and her gang at my 2 o’clock at a distance around the bar counter. They looked on in my direction. They must have noticed the tears despite that mock ironic sad smile on my face. I turned my face away.
“Come, let me take you home.” Harry took charge and both Harry and Sara held my hand and let me out of the bar.
Outside the bar, I let my tears flow freely.
I felt pained at the imperfection of the night, barring that egotistical “I” of feeling the humiliation of being deemed a fat person by Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.
I guess I could channel this energy into anger and contempt for him maybe I’ll get over him faster. But no, I cannot in my heart find that strength to do so.
****
“I am a fool to fly home for the weekend and wishing hope against hope to catch a glimpse of him. I am sorry I ruined our night. Guys, I am so sorry…”
“P, please don’t feel this way. I really feel bad for you. I didn’t know how to warn you. Although he’s my buddy, he’s quite messy and don’t waste your time…”
“Please don’t feel bad for me. He’s still your buddy. Going forward, when you get married, him and I will be there. We’ll still crossed paths again. Don’t feel stuck in an awkward position, I’ll get over him...”
****
Like V said, there is probably not a moment of lucidity in his mind.
What the fuck was he thinking? I asked myself too many times over even at the scene where this crazy act was being played out before me.
I have always been a strategist at any given situation.
I truly believed he came on his own.
But what was he trying to achieve by telling his girlfriend that a “fat” girl wanted to see him? To make her jealous at my expense or what? Or was it his way of appeasing her not to come because it was only a “fat” girl?
Could he not have said that he was coming to meet up with Harry?
He didn’t have to come that night after he had said he wasn’t free. No one (i.e. myself and Harry) pressed the point. He was the one who made the call.
What good would this situation do to his relationship with his girlfriend if they were trying to work things out? I could only imagine more quarrels along the way.
And the girl- why would a “fat” girl warrant her jealousy?
Didn't she think that it must take two hands to clap and shouldn’t she first question why her boyfriend would bother take the effort to come see the “fat” girl? Shouldn’t she see that as her boyfriend’s problem and not the other girl’s problem since he is responding to her advances?
When she shot her mouth about the “fat” bitch to Sara before my presence (a stranger), did it ever once occur that I could be that “fat” bitch that her boyfriend was seeing?
Or did she not think I was fat enough and in her mind, the idea of a fat person also equates to an unattractive looking person?
That night, my face was radiant and if ever one is to be so imprudent and using my cosmetic surgeon’s critical eye to judge, I must say this girl needed a lot of work on her face. Apart from being tall and slim, she has had such an imperfect and forgettable face. No defined face shape, smallish features and dark hair that seemed naturally wavy.
What was her reaction when she realized later that the girl she was friendly to was in fact the “fat” girl in question?
I looked radiant, V had earlier said to me that night at St. James. To blow my own horn, I always have a somewhat strikingly pretty face that turned heads. V called me aristocratic looking when we were 15. I think it has something to do with my fair complexion, sharp nose and long hair. Some people mistake me for a Japanese, others Eurasian.
Quietly, I wondered if that stumped her because she made no real attempt to come over and create a scene (as her earlier outburst before Sara and me would have suggested an open fire with her Opponent) although I knew she watched me from afar.
****
Actually, this is about Dr. Jekyll & Hyde and me. Not the girl, she just happened to be the not too clever victim herself.
This fiasco was brought about because of the way he handled the situation.
Did he have a plan or did he not?
What was he thinking or not thinking?
As a person who always pre-empts and manages crises on a daily existence, Dr Jekyll & Hyde’s actions fazed me.
Maybe that’s why his life was messy.
He once said that his ex-girlfriends all took him for granted. Shrieking responsibility.
Then I told him, “ You know right? It is because you allowed it.”
Like I allowed this Man without a Plan to unsettle me, which put me in an emotionally vulnerable position.
****
Going forward, the Man without a Plan has allowed me to formulate a new plan for my life.
I do need to go on my diet. I really must (although model-like good looks and shaped Windsor repeatedly told me last week that I am not fat and rich boy Nano is bent on shaping up before I returned to Manila in September to look good next to me; Nano called me hotlast night)as I am feeling a tad pudgy of late.
The first thing my father said when I got home last week was, “Girl, you look like you have gained three kilos.”
It starts becoming a serious matter when your Dad proposes you a weight loss programme.
The parting words from my parents at the airport were also, “The next time we see you, we would like to see you lose weight. Please!”
So Dr. Jekyll & Hyde’s girlfriend’s words (really courtesy of Dr. J&H) served as a double whammy.
I weighed myself today. Damn, I really have never been this heavy before.
Time to head back for the gym and get a personal trainer.
I am determined to look as close to perfection (as subjectively defined by my own standards of course) as one could get.
Watch me, I’ll be losing weight with a vengeance and will be back in September to take on the world and take him on.
Does that sound like a plan to you, Dr. Jekyll & Hyde? :p
Friday, March 23, 2007
WINSOR BOY
I wished we managed to formally say our goodbyes.
On our last day, I did not see him. Then I was severely hungover so I spent my time in between meetings puking in my room.
I fancied him a lot as he did me.
Windsor Boy makes me feel like I was dating in high school all over again.
Except we didn't date but the undercurrent of affections were present.
Lucky P as some fellow colleagues said who got all excited for me. After all, he was THE best looking guy at work. The girls were so going after him. I received a fair amount of dirty looks for having his undivided attention.
He opened his palm and showed me a beautiful red flower as we hiked up the fortress.
Then there was his predominantly Japanese (mingled with his part English) good looks, proper English accent as a boy growing up in Windsor and educated in Eaton and Oxford.
But Windsor Boy only had eyes for me and hung close to me.
He was too gentlemanly to make his moves (although in a cab we sat close and I observed his self-conscious body language of taking care to be close and yet not too close with me).
Mackie said to me the other night. "I can tell that Windsor likes you a lot. But that Japanese in him is preventing him from betraying his feelings. And believe me, I don't think he really wants to marry his Japanese girlfriend..."
I knew what Mackie meant. Windsor Boy has a shelf life mentality.
Upcoming notes: 1)More about Windsor when my words are arranged to do justice.
2)Then there is Nano, who has been playing SMS tennis with me.
American/ Fillippino Nano who is probably a lot more opulent
than Ted with avenues and buildings named after his family name,major
shopping malls and property developments marking their
businesses.Nano who has the exact same aura as my 2 previous lovers,
Malc and Random George. Even the looks are similar... Maybe things do
indeed happen in 3s in life...
I wished we managed to formally say our goodbyes.
On our last day, I did not see him. Then I was severely hungover so I spent my time in between meetings puking in my room.
I fancied him a lot as he did me.
Windsor Boy makes me feel like I was dating in high school all over again.
Except we didn't date but the undercurrent of affections were present.
Lucky P as some fellow colleagues said who got all excited for me. After all, he was THE best looking guy at work. The girls were so going after him. I received a fair amount of dirty looks for having his undivided attention.
He opened his palm and showed me a beautiful red flower as we hiked up the fortress.
Then there was his predominantly Japanese (mingled with his part English) good looks, proper English accent as a boy growing up in Windsor and educated in Eaton and Oxford.
But Windsor Boy only had eyes for me and hung close to me.
He was too gentlemanly to make his moves (although in a cab we sat close and I observed his self-conscious body language of taking care to be close and yet not too close with me).
Mackie said to me the other night. "I can tell that Windsor likes you a lot. But that Japanese in him is preventing him from betraying his feelings. And believe me, I don't think he really wants to marry his Japanese girlfriend..."
I knew what Mackie meant. Windsor Boy has a shelf life mentality.
Upcoming notes: 1)More about Windsor when my words are arranged to do justice.
2)Then there is Nano, who has been playing SMS tennis with me.
American/ Fillippino Nano who is probably a lot more opulent
than Ted with avenues and buildings named after his family name,major
shopping malls and property developments marking their
businesses.Nano who has the exact same aura as my 2 previous lovers,
Malc and Random George. Even the looks are similar... Maybe things do
indeed happen in 3s in life...
Monday, March 12, 2007
Manila Rendezvous- First Night
Ok, I have been meaning to talk about Manila. It has been at the back of my mind to mention that new beau of mine (slight yawn!!!), amidst a few other verbal and eye contact flirtations I had with other boys there (I really adore them!!!). Partying and dining with society's elites, thanks to my hosts' extensive contacts (themselves obviously in that charmed circle) where everyone seems to be owning extensive pieces of lands, casinos, hotels, golf courses, cemetaries and being involved in developing island resorts, the best parts of town in the form of shopping malls and quality residential estates or involved in politics, it all seemed very feudal. I led a rather charmed life there but not for too long... abracadebra! I am back in my reality, a salaried professional working class that always look slightly tired without the make-up on.
Let's call my new beau, Ted. Ted has absolutely nothing to charm me at first sight, in looks and in aura. If V and B were to see him, they would go really,"yeee..... P, what is wrong with you?" Actually quite rightly so, except when we started getting hot and heavy, I was not in the best frame of mind. But then again, outer appearance has never been my priority when I get attracted to a man. In fact, good looks to me are a bonus but not vital in the equation.
Come to think of it, my very first boyfriend (when I was thirteen) was the ugliest piece of shit I have ever had. He was ugly inside out. I could never look him in the face but was too nice and sweet then to admit to him (when he asked) why I never eye him when we spoke. I didn't know what I had unwittingly got myself into (and should I not be relieved finally when he decided to ditch me but not upfront; got his girlfriend to ring me up instead. I was so being played out!).
But even now, I never feel that it is my place to call someone ugly (unless of course, it comes in a double package of being undesirable both in character and in outer appearance). I cannot help being old fashioned that way... Ugly to me is still quite a harsh and cruel word although funnily, I instinctively spot the facial imperfections of humankind (since I was five) with the precision of a comestic surgeon and deemed that there is always some work that could be done to fix one's face to achieve a certain level of facial "perfection"...
In my own instance, I would like to shrink my face to a nice almond shape...
I have only had two peers in my experience that I cannot find any "fault" in their looks- one being B and another is a girl that I was acquainted to by the name of J some 12 years ago. I was enthralled by her beauty as with everyone at the beach. We could not take our eyes off her. She is the prettiest girl that I have ever met in real life back then...
Now, let's get back on track.
****
I don’t know how it happened. I think it must have started at the Embassy Bar on that Saturday night. Earlier in the day, my hosts have informed me that Ted would like to take me out to dine and have a good night out. My hosts introduced us quite casually the night before at a party when he was semi-drunk. I didn’t think we made a huge impression for each other although as usual, I remembered almost everyone’s names. So comes the next day when the matter was broached lightly by my friend (the hostess) as we went for our girly shopping trip, she mentioned that Ted had rung that morning to ask for an introduction by her husband and had proposed to play host and take me on a date that night.
I declined. “But I came here to spend time with you,” I protested.
I decided that he could be invited to join us clubbing with my hosts and their other friends that night. My hosts and I have made these plans the night before and I was not about to change for someone that I barely knew. The more the merrier, I reckoned although I am hardly a groupie.
To cut the long story short, Ted came along with his two other male buddies to the café and sat at the next table from ours consisting of my hosts and their other friends, all belonging to society prominence before we headed to the chic and exclusive Embassy Bar (where my local company were mostly VIP members, which they ironically sneer at the notion) in the heart of uptown Mercati. I realized that Ted and his gang did not belong to this Big Boys’/First Wives’ Club of my seated company. I happened to be seated at the far end of the table away from Ted and I was aware that my male host attempted to get me up to move over to Ted’s table for a quick re-introduction. Understanding too well of my social obligations that night since Ted made an appearance for me, I excused myself from the ladies who were engrossed in all their make-up artists and wedding couture talk.
So I sat down with the boys and was truly enjoying their company. Ted’s buddy, Guitar is quite the male version of me. I observed the social charms that he exuded reminiscent of my dynamics with B in stranger or public company. He played the spokesperson for Ted, obviously interested in me but somewhat tongue tied and awkward at the beginning (very unlike his tipsy state) and led the conversation. Hence at the beginning, it seemed like it was just the two of us bantering about business ideas. But like myself and me being myself, Guitar was quick to lead the conversation back to Ted for him to partake in the interaction while I too made sure that Ted’s other buddy, Ron was not excluded. In fact, he kept trying to sound me out about my receptiveness in living in the Philippines. As usual, my answers were always that I am open to new ideas and where money ideas could take me. It was at this juncture that I mentioned about my passion for the food and death business that I realized by accident that the boys are in the know as they were quite eager to assist me. I didn’t mention my greater ambitions, property development which I were only to realize later that their families are property moguls in their own right in this part of the world.
At the club, Ted naturally kept buying his friends and me drinks. I quite recalled two guys (with accents and mannerisms that suggest they were seemingly educated abroad) who started chatting me up at the VIP members’ lounge. I was in high enough spirits and was happy to chat to anyone that seemed remotely interesting. Observant Guitar was nimble enough to whisk me away as he enveloped his arm around my waist and turned me back in the opposite direction to the boys.
My hosts, who are not big party animals themselves decided to take leave for the night as their other friends were also leaving. I reckon it was also their way of giving Ted a chance to spend time with me. They bid me farewell and assured that I was in good hands and I should continue to enjoy myself and party on with great company- the gate and the house would be unlocked so I was free to return anytime I liked. By this time, I was sufficiently happy and tipsy. I quite remember spending most of my time with Guitar and Ron dancing away and two other girls (Ron’s friend; one pretty Chinese Filipino and her blond Eurasian cousin from Virginia); Ted continued to be missing in action, only to appear occasionally with more drinks in hands for everyone. Guitar had a great time letting his hands go free-willy around my waist and I quite adore his manliness at that point in time. But as usual, I was aware of Ted’s interest and took care not to induce an awkward situation that resulted in a run in between the two buddies.
When Ted returned to join us finally perhaps having taken enough alcohol to sum up some Dutch courage, I was ushered by the boys to head for the commoners’ dance floor. It was massive and crowded. I quite recalled dancing with the boys. In fact, I was sandwiched between Ted and Guitar, both taking turns to guide me by the waist lest I strayed away in the crowd. I think I must be at the peak of my tipsiness at this stage. We were also talking about Ted coming to visit Singapore and Australia and he said that he would go visit when I am around. I now vaguely recall that it must have been there and then that Ted and I snogged. I remembered being fully aware (as with all other illicit experiences) and the thing that went on in my light-headed mind was that I was yet again kissing another stranger man. It must be then that he started holding my hand. Then I just got higher and higher with the alcohol running through my bloodstream…
I vaguely remembered us pushing through the crowd to get out but I don’t recall entering the massive window tinted and chauffer-driven 4WD. I just remembered being in the 4WD. Guitar sat on the right passenger seat next to the chauffer, Ted and I in the second row of the three rows of seats behind the drivers’ seat and Ron sat in the back row. The boys asked me where I wanted to go. In my tipsy state, I made bold and said anywhere but home since I am on holidays and wouldn’t like to waste time sleeping. I think I said I would like to go to a karaoke and asked if there were any around. The chauffer must have driven us around town for a long time and I suspected in my drunken state, I was getting difficult because they mentioned that all the karaoke joints were closed and I insisted they were lying and I didn’t care and demanded they would have their ways to find me an open one.
At some stage, Ted was getting frustrated with my insistent and difficult ways (he was to say the next day that I was scary when I was drunk, reminding me of the time where my first French, W said the same thing- W never saw an angrier person, I hit him so hard and I was really losing it for him forgetting to pick up my cashmere cardigan with the diamante buttons at the pub while we were in the cab that the cabbie begged us to leave his car; guess I never get away with bad manners like my girlfriends often do with men and comes “high” time and when triggered by an imperfect situation, the alcohol pretty much dilutes my will to comport myself and behave like a well-bred lady and I betrayed the angry side of me) and said let’s go home since we didn’t have anywhere to go next.
I said no- I don’t want to go home. Even in my tipsy state, I observed and was aware that Guitar was smart enough (or rather, have enough emotional intelligence) to not reason with a drunkard. He used the tactic that I would have used with one. He tried placating me and went on to agree with me, “Yes, I know what P wants to do. She is on holidays and just would like to go anywhere for fun and not go home. Right P?”
“Yes.” I replied light-headedly. I liked it because for once, a guy was getting it with me.
Ted was getting helpless and perturbed by my tantrums and didn’t know how to proceed with the situation. So Guitar took charge and instructed the chauffer in Tagalog to proceed to his designated spot.
We arrived at our destination and for some strange reason and I now begin to wonder if it was a place owned by Guitar’s or Ted’s family, we parked at the reserved car spot below a chalet type hotel. Then we walked up the stairs that leads exclusively to the room. Without keys, we opened the door and I quite re-call it was a contemporary decorated sleek and clean hotel room with a huge plasma TV. I was piqued even in my tipsiness because I was still alert enough to realize that I could potentially have placed myself in a vulnerable position with three able-bodied men and a chauffer who would definitely be an accomplice in crime should shit happens. This is a country where money talks and anything could be possible. I have been placed in a precarious situation before and I was not about to be made a fool the third time and I grew really angry. My self-preservation instincts took me on the defensive mode.
“WHY are we coming to a hotel room? I DON”T want to go to a hotel room!” I demanded angrily. I turned to head down the stairs.
“But didn’t you want to sing karaoke? We can sing here!” Guitar tried cajoling me.
“This is NOT a karaoke!” I was getting very aggravated and walked down the stairs.
The guys followed suit and we got back to the car.
“Alright, alright, we’ll go somewhere.” Guitar continued to appease me.
Then someone must’ve decided that everyone should perhaps have supper and we proceeded to a Chinese restaurant.
We got seated in the restaurant and it was then I realized that one of the bows of my new shoes has gone missing. I think I must be beyond consolation at the sight of my imperfection. At this time, I was also well aware that I have also lost my beautiful diamante hair comb tucked into my hair. I tried my darnest to tame my disheveled hair down to look at least half decent. I pulled out my imperfect shoe and slapped it on the table. I needed it fixed and for the imperfection to be undone- the panic attack within me set in once more as I felt that I was losing control of my life and me. It did not help that the alcohol in my system was magnifying my loss and heightening my emotions. I could not bear the sight and my loss any further.
“Fix it! Fix my shoe, baby,” I demanded Ted before the guys.
“Look, what’s happen to my shoes! Do something about it! I cannot have shoes that look like this! I want my bow back!”
“I can’t! The shops are closed now and it’s 5 a.m in the morning!” Ted sounded so exasperated and it almost seemed like he was just about to cry or walk out on me.
Guitar stepped in and again tried appeasing me again.
“We’ll take you shopping tomorrow. We’ll go to Ferragamo and Ted will buy you the bow clips and shoes with bows. And then we’ll take you for a foot massage. Don’t worry about it now!”
The thought of wearing Ferragamo shoes further piqued me since they never fitted me well and the pair I bought in New York has only given me the most discomfort than any of the cheap shoes that I have ever bought in my life!
“No, I want my CHEAP shoe fixed!” I insisted again.
Poor Ted repeatedly said he couldn’t because it was too late. He was being put at his wits’ end.
At some point, Guitar in his over zealousness to sell his friend’s strengths to me and also to placate me, added, “… Ted will make you happy….”
The alcohol really got into me at this stage and the idea of him having the audacity to make such a big statement triggered the bitterness and deep-seated anger and melancholy within my dark soul.
“Ted can NEVER make me happy!” I spat the words out contemptuously.
Ted got hurt and offended and stormed out of the restaurant. I suspect it was more of a case that a girl before his male buddies had bruised his ego than he seriously cared that he couldn’t make me happy.
“Look you have upset Ted. Go after him!” I detected that slightly patronizing tone in Guitar’s s voice of someone not taking a deemed drunkard too seriously, combined with slight amusement of “lovers’ tiff” being acted before him.
My social instincts knew the wiser for me not to offend my suitor and I needed to do some social redemption here. I discerned that Ted was probably a hot- blooded person but he was really an easily placated man. It would definitely save his face before his two buddies if I bothered to come after him. So I went after him in my tipsy state, still quite alert enough to be worrying about my own safety wandering in the dark outside although I knew our chauffer was waiting outside.
Times like this, I find it highly amusing to play the role of the doormat taking the humble pie but it was quite refreshing for a change, really for laughter and self-preservation’s sake.
I found Ted standing outside one of the closed shops about ten metres away from the restaurant. I think he was trying to cool himself down.
I came up to him and hugged him. I saw his face brightened up.
“Oh baby, come back! Don’t be angry with me.” I whined.
And then we kissed and made up.
“Let me take you home. It is getting really late. It’s 5.30 in the morning,” he said affectionately.
“Nooooooooo…. I want to spend more time with you.” I whispered into his ear in that semi-whiney tone. Ted looked placated.
We walked back to the restaurant. The strap of my green dress kept falling off my shoulder and he pulled it back up a few times as I walked in a haphazard manner holding his hand.
“Fix yourself up.” He spoke in his semi-authoritative/ chauvinistic tone when we got back to our dining table where his buddies were. I knew he wanted to re-gain some of his lost dignity before the boys and I ignored him, half smiling in my dreamy state, my mind has now wandered to be reminded of B. He sounded just like B knuckle-rapping me whenever my bra strap or strap is showing, or off my shoulder or my cleavage (which isn’t very much without bra aids) are peeping at a top with an overly plunging neckline. B has this protective instinct for me, especially when we are met by preying stares of lecherous men. In my head, I was getting amused. He pulled my strap up finally after its refusal to obey my vague attempt at restoring it back on my shoulder. Then he went on to pull at the hem of my dress under the table by making sure it was falling neatly on my lap so that I wasn’t too exposed. But really, the length of the dress had fallen nicely and appropriately at where it should be and I thought he was fussing over me.
It must have been at this juncture that Guitar proposed that Ron and himself would take leave. Ted could take me home.
“No! No one is to leave. If we went out together as a team, we leave together as a team!” I demanded.
It must be the work ethic in me- team orientation. But then again, I always have this thing with my friends when we have a big night out- I like to know that everyone is safe and sound and have managed to get home in one piece.
“We’re NOT a team!” Ted was exasperated.
At some stage, we all decided to head home together. Ted must have begged me to go home and to go and rest as he had to start work at 8.00am that Sunday morning at the casino owned by his and my host’s family. He would take me out tomorrow afternoon, Guitar and him must have promised. I told them to ring my hosts the next day instead to check with them on my social schedule. I too was getting tired by then and conceded to call it a night. We got into the car, Ted and I in our hugging, lovey-dovey state.
Back in the car, I slumped myself down on the middle row and propped my back up by leaning between the window and the seat where I sprawled the entire length of my body and rested my legs on Ted’s lap. In my tipsy bedroom eyes, I smiled at Ted seductively. He reciprocated the smile, his hands wandering up my legs under my dress. Then he slided his finger into my panties and started to give me pleasure…
When the chauffer finally dropped me off at the fancy address where I was putting up, Ted walked me to my room. I whispered that I wanted him to tuck me into bed. His friends and the chauffer waited in the car.
The rest was history as all would guess…
One thing though, he stopped midway while we were at it. I watched his face throughout the act with my hazy eyes, I must be half smiling (that stream of consciousness and dull thoughts running through my head). I now wonder if he suddenly awakened from feeling a sense of basic decency(to be fucking a deemed totally inebriated girl) and then he decided perhaps it was late, I should be getting rest and he should be heading off. He kissed me goodbye gently and closed the door behind me.
I got up from my bed feeling unaffected, having slightly sobered up little, the dull thought that I have fallen from grace yet again but taking care not to allow the full effect sunk into my head. I decided to head into the bathroom to take a shower instead of soiling my sheets further with the smell of cigarette smoke and (what I call) after party odour. I still have another night sleeping on that bed.
When I got out of the shower, I tried to set the alarm clock so as to wake myself up in five hours’ time as I had to attend Sunday Mass with my hosts. But this time, only to realize that my mobile phone and all my money in the evening vintage purse have gone missing with my misgivings…
I figured there is a time and place to worry about such things or not, if I do not place too much attachment on my material possessions and quite sleepily, I climbed into my bed and went into a deep slumber….
Ok, I have been meaning to talk about Manila. It has been at the back of my mind to mention that new beau of mine (slight yawn!!!), amidst a few other verbal and eye contact flirtations I had with other boys there (I really adore them!!!). Partying and dining with society's elites, thanks to my hosts' extensive contacts (themselves obviously in that charmed circle) where everyone seems to be owning extensive pieces of lands, casinos, hotels, golf courses, cemetaries and being involved in developing island resorts, the best parts of town in the form of shopping malls and quality residential estates or involved in politics, it all seemed very feudal. I led a rather charmed life there but not for too long... abracadebra! I am back in my reality, a salaried professional working class that always look slightly tired without the make-up on.
Let's call my new beau, Ted. Ted has absolutely nothing to charm me at first sight, in looks and in aura. If V and B were to see him, they would go really,"yeee..... P, what is wrong with you?" Actually quite rightly so, except when we started getting hot and heavy, I was not in the best frame of mind. But then again, outer appearance has never been my priority when I get attracted to a man. In fact, good looks to me are a bonus but not vital in the equation.
Come to think of it, my very first boyfriend (when I was thirteen) was the ugliest piece of shit I have ever had. He was ugly inside out. I could never look him in the face but was too nice and sweet then to admit to him (when he asked) why I never eye him when we spoke. I didn't know what I had unwittingly got myself into (and should I not be relieved finally when he decided to ditch me but not upfront; got his girlfriend to ring me up instead. I was so being played out!).
But even now, I never feel that it is my place to call someone ugly (unless of course, it comes in a double package of being undesirable both in character and in outer appearance). I cannot help being old fashioned that way... Ugly to me is still quite a harsh and cruel word although funnily, I instinctively spot the facial imperfections of humankind (since I was five) with the precision of a comestic surgeon and deemed that there is always some work that could be done to fix one's face to achieve a certain level of facial "perfection"...
In my own instance, I would like to shrink my face to a nice almond shape...
I have only had two peers in my experience that I cannot find any "fault" in their looks- one being B and another is a girl that I was acquainted to by the name of J some 12 years ago. I was enthralled by her beauty as with everyone at the beach. We could not take our eyes off her. She is the prettiest girl that I have ever met in real life back then...
Now, let's get back on track.
****
I don’t know how it happened. I think it must have started at the Embassy Bar on that Saturday night. Earlier in the day, my hosts have informed me that Ted would like to take me out to dine and have a good night out. My hosts introduced us quite casually the night before at a party when he was semi-drunk. I didn’t think we made a huge impression for each other although as usual, I remembered almost everyone’s names. So comes the next day when the matter was broached lightly by my friend (the hostess) as we went for our girly shopping trip, she mentioned that Ted had rung that morning to ask for an introduction by her husband and had proposed to play host and take me on a date that night.
I declined. “But I came here to spend time with you,” I protested.
I decided that he could be invited to join us clubbing with my hosts and their other friends that night. My hosts and I have made these plans the night before and I was not about to change for someone that I barely knew. The more the merrier, I reckoned although I am hardly a groupie.
To cut the long story short, Ted came along with his two other male buddies to the café and sat at the next table from ours consisting of my hosts and their other friends, all belonging to society prominence before we headed to the chic and exclusive Embassy Bar (where my local company were mostly VIP members, which they ironically sneer at the notion) in the heart of uptown Mercati. I realized that Ted and his gang did not belong to this Big Boys’/First Wives’ Club of my seated company. I happened to be seated at the far end of the table away from Ted and I was aware that my male host attempted to get me up to move over to Ted’s table for a quick re-introduction. Understanding too well of my social obligations that night since Ted made an appearance for me, I excused myself from the ladies who were engrossed in all their make-up artists and wedding couture talk.
So I sat down with the boys and was truly enjoying their company. Ted’s buddy, Guitar is quite the male version of me. I observed the social charms that he exuded reminiscent of my dynamics with B in stranger or public company. He played the spokesperson for Ted, obviously interested in me but somewhat tongue tied and awkward at the beginning (very unlike his tipsy state) and led the conversation. Hence at the beginning, it seemed like it was just the two of us bantering about business ideas. But like myself and me being myself, Guitar was quick to lead the conversation back to Ted for him to partake in the interaction while I too made sure that Ted’s other buddy, Ron was not excluded. In fact, he kept trying to sound me out about my receptiveness in living in the Philippines. As usual, my answers were always that I am open to new ideas and where money ideas could take me. It was at this juncture that I mentioned about my passion for the food and death business that I realized by accident that the boys are in the know as they were quite eager to assist me. I didn’t mention my greater ambitions, property development which I were only to realize later that their families are property moguls in their own right in this part of the world.
At the club, Ted naturally kept buying his friends and me drinks. I quite recalled two guys (with accents and mannerisms that suggest they were seemingly educated abroad) who started chatting me up at the VIP members’ lounge. I was in high enough spirits and was happy to chat to anyone that seemed remotely interesting. Observant Guitar was nimble enough to whisk me away as he enveloped his arm around my waist and turned me back in the opposite direction to the boys.
My hosts, who are not big party animals themselves decided to take leave for the night as their other friends were also leaving. I reckon it was also their way of giving Ted a chance to spend time with me. They bid me farewell and assured that I was in good hands and I should continue to enjoy myself and party on with great company- the gate and the house would be unlocked so I was free to return anytime I liked. By this time, I was sufficiently happy and tipsy. I quite remember spending most of my time with Guitar and Ron dancing away and two other girls (Ron’s friend; one pretty Chinese Filipino and her blond Eurasian cousin from Virginia); Ted continued to be missing in action, only to appear occasionally with more drinks in hands for everyone. Guitar had a great time letting his hands go free-willy around my waist and I quite adore his manliness at that point in time. But as usual, I was aware of Ted’s interest and took care not to induce an awkward situation that resulted in a run in between the two buddies.
When Ted returned to join us finally perhaps having taken enough alcohol to sum up some Dutch courage, I was ushered by the boys to head for the commoners’ dance floor. It was massive and crowded. I quite recalled dancing with the boys. In fact, I was sandwiched between Ted and Guitar, both taking turns to guide me by the waist lest I strayed away in the crowd. I think I must be at the peak of my tipsiness at this stage. We were also talking about Ted coming to visit Singapore and Australia and he said that he would go visit when I am around. I now vaguely recall that it must have been there and then that Ted and I snogged. I remembered being fully aware (as with all other illicit experiences) and the thing that went on in my light-headed mind was that I was yet again kissing another stranger man. It must be then that he started holding my hand. Then I just got higher and higher with the alcohol running through my bloodstream…
I vaguely remembered us pushing through the crowd to get out but I don’t recall entering the massive window tinted and chauffer-driven 4WD. I just remembered being in the 4WD. Guitar sat on the right passenger seat next to the chauffer, Ted and I in the second row of the three rows of seats behind the drivers’ seat and Ron sat in the back row. The boys asked me where I wanted to go. In my tipsy state, I made bold and said anywhere but home since I am on holidays and wouldn’t like to waste time sleeping. I think I said I would like to go to a karaoke and asked if there were any around. The chauffer must have driven us around town for a long time and I suspected in my drunken state, I was getting difficult because they mentioned that all the karaoke joints were closed and I insisted they were lying and I didn’t care and demanded they would have their ways to find me an open one.
At some stage, Ted was getting frustrated with my insistent and difficult ways (he was to say the next day that I was scary when I was drunk, reminding me of the time where my first French, W said the same thing- W never saw an angrier person, I hit him so hard and I was really losing it for him forgetting to pick up my cashmere cardigan with the diamante buttons at the pub while we were in the cab that the cabbie begged us to leave his car; guess I never get away with bad manners like my girlfriends often do with men and comes “high” time and when triggered by an imperfect situation, the alcohol pretty much dilutes my will to comport myself and behave like a well-bred lady and I betrayed the angry side of me) and said let’s go home since we didn’t have anywhere to go next.
I said no- I don’t want to go home. Even in my tipsy state, I observed and was aware that Guitar was smart enough (or rather, have enough emotional intelligence) to not reason with a drunkard. He used the tactic that I would have used with one. He tried placating me and went on to agree with me, “Yes, I know what P wants to do. She is on holidays and just would like to go anywhere for fun and not go home. Right P?”
“Yes.” I replied light-headedly. I liked it because for once, a guy was getting it with me.
Ted was getting helpless and perturbed by my tantrums and didn’t know how to proceed with the situation. So Guitar took charge and instructed the chauffer in Tagalog to proceed to his designated spot.
We arrived at our destination and for some strange reason and I now begin to wonder if it was a place owned by Guitar’s or Ted’s family, we parked at the reserved car spot below a chalet type hotel. Then we walked up the stairs that leads exclusively to the room. Without keys, we opened the door and I quite re-call it was a contemporary decorated sleek and clean hotel room with a huge plasma TV. I was piqued even in my tipsiness because I was still alert enough to realize that I could potentially have placed myself in a vulnerable position with three able-bodied men and a chauffer who would definitely be an accomplice in crime should shit happens. This is a country where money talks and anything could be possible. I have been placed in a precarious situation before and I was not about to be made a fool the third time and I grew really angry. My self-preservation instincts took me on the defensive mode.
“WHY are we coming to a hotel room? I DON”T want to go to a hotel room!” I demanded angrily. I turned to head down the stairs.
“But didn’t you want to sing karaoke? We can sing here!” Guitar tried cajoling me.
“This is NOT a karaoke!” I was getting very aggravated and walked down the stairs.
The guys followed suit and we got back to the car.
“Alright, alright, we’ll go somewhere.” Guitar continued to appease me.
Then someone must’ve decided that everyone should perhaps have supper and we proceeded to a Chinese restaurant.
We got seated in the restaurant and it was then I realized that one of the bows of my new shoes has gone missing. I think I must be beyond consolation at the sight of my imperfection. At this time, I was also well aware that I have also lost my beautiful diamante hair comb tucked into my hair. I tried my darnest to tame my disheveled hair down to look at least half decent. I pulled out my imperfect shoe and slapped it on the table. I needed it fixed and for the imperfection to be undone- the panic attack within me set in once more as I felt that I was losing control of my life and me. It did not help that the alcohol in my system was magnifying my loss and heightening my emotions. I could not bear the sight and my loss any further.
“Fix it! Fix my shoe, baby,” I demanded Ted before the guys.
“Look, what’s happen to my shoes! Do something about it! I cannot have shoes that look like this! I want my bow back!”
“I can’t! The shops are closed now and it’s 5 a.m in the morning!” Ted sounded so exasperated and it almost seemed like he was just about to cry or walk out on me.
Guitar stepped in and again tried appeasing me again.
“We’ll take you shopping tomorrow. We’ll go to Ferragamo and Ted will buy you the bow clips and shoes with bows. And then we’ll take you for a foot massage. Don’t worry about it now!”
The thought of wearing Ferragamo shoes further piqued me since they never fitted me well and the pair I bought in New York has only given me the most discomfort than any of the cheap shoes that I have ever bought in my life!
“No, I want my CHEAP shoe fixed!” I insisted again.
Poor Ted repeatedly said he couldn’t because it was too late. He was being put at his wits’ end.
At some point, Guitar in his over zealousness to sell his friend’s strengths to me and also to placate me, added, “… Ted will make you happy….”
The alcohol really got into me at this stage and the idea of him having the audacity to make such a big statement triggered the bitterness and deep-seated anger and melancholy within my dark soul.
“Ted can NEVER make me happy!” I spat the words out contemptuously.
Ted got hurt and offended and stormed out of the restaurant. I suspect it was more of a case that a girl before his male buddies had bruised his ego than he seriously cared that he couldn’t make me happy.
“Look you have upset Ted. Go after him!” I detected that slightly patronizing tone in Guitar’s s voice of someone not taking a deemed drunkard too seriously, combined with slight amusement of “lovers’ tiff” being acted before him.
My social instincts knew the wiser for me not to offend my suitor and I needed to do some social redemption here. I discerned that Ted was probably a hot- blooded person but he was really an easily placated man. It would definitely save his face before his two buddies if I bothered to come after him. So I went after him in my tipsy state, still quite alert enough to be worrying about my own safety wandering in the dark outside although I knew our chauffer was waiting outside.
Times like this, I find it highly amusing to play the role of the doormat taking the humble pie but it was quite refreshing for a change, really for laughter and self-preservation’s sake.
I found Ted standing outside one of the closed shops about ten metres away from the restaurant. I think he was trying to cool himself down.
I came up to him and hugged him. I saw his face brightened up.
“Oh baby, come back! Don’t be angry with me.” I whined.
And then we kissed and made up.
“Let me take you home. It is getting really late. It’s 5.30 in the morning,” he said affectionately.
“Nooooooooo…. I want to spend more time with you.” I whispered into his ear in that semi-whiney tone. Ted looked placated.
We walked back to the restaurant. The strap of my green dress kept falling off my shoulder and he pulled it back up a few times as I walked in a haphazard manner holding his hand.
“Fix yourself up.” He spoke in his semi-authoritative/ chauvinistic tone when we got back to our dining table where his buddies were. I knew he wanted to re-gain some of his lost dignity before the boys and I ignored him, half smiling in my dreamy state, my mind has now wandered to be reminded of B. He sounded just like B knuckle-rapping me whenever my bra strap or strap is showing, or off my shoulder or my cleavage (which isn’t very much without bra aids) are peeping at a top with an overly plunging neckline. B has this protective instinct for me, especially when we are met by preying stares of lecherous men. In my head, I was getting amused. He pulled my strap up finally after its refusal to obey my vague attempt at restoring it back on my shoulder. Then he went on to pull at the hem of my dress under the table by making sure it was falling neatly on my lap so that I wasn’t too exposed. But really, the length of the dress had fallen nicely and appropriately at where it should be and I thought he was fussing over me.
It must have been at this juncture that Guitar proposed that Ron and himself would take leave. Ted could take me home.
“No! No one is to leave. If we went out together as a team, we leave together as a team!” I demanded.
It must be the work ethic in me- team orientation. But then again, I always have this thing with my friends when we have a big night out- I like to know that everyone is safe and sound and have managed to get home in one piece.
“We’re NOT a team!” Ted was exasperated.
At some stage, we all decided to head home together. Ted must have begged me to go home and to go and rest as he had to start work at 8.00am that Sunday morning at the casino owned by his and my host’s family. He would take me out tomorrow afternoon, Guitar and him must have promised. I told them to ring my hosts the next day instead to check with them on my social schedule. I too was getting tired by then and conceded to call it a night. We got into the car, Ted and I in our hugging, lovey-dovey state.
Back in the car, I slumped myself down on the middle row and propped my back up by leaning between the window and the seat where I sprawled the entire length of my body and rested my legs on Ted’s lap. In my tipsy bedroom eyes, I smiled at Ted seductively. He reciprocated the smile, his hands wandering up my legs under my dress. Then he slided his finger into my panties and started to give me pleasure…
When the chauffer finally dropped me off at the fancy address where I was putting up, Ted walked me to my room. I whispered that I wanted him to tuck me into bed. His friends and the chauffer waited in the car.
The rest was history as all would guess…
One thing though, he stopped midway while we were at it. I watched his face throughout the act with my hazy eyes, I must be half smiling (that stream of consciousness and dull thoughts running through my head). I now wonder if he suddenly awakened from feeling a sense of basic decency(to be fucking a deemed totally inebriated girl) and then he decided perhaps it was late, I should be getting rest and he should be heading off. He kissed me goodbye gently and closed the door behind me.
I got up from my bed feeling unaffected, having slightly sobered up little, the dull thought that I have fallen from grace yet again but taking care not to allow the full effect sunk into my head. I decided to head into the bathroom to take a shower instead of soiling my sheets further with the smell of cigarette smoke and (what I call) after party odour. I still have another night sleeping on that bed.
When I got out of the shower, I tried to set the alarm clock so as to wake myself up in five hours’ time as I had to attend Sunday Mass with my hosts. But this time, only to realize that my mobile phone and all my money in the evening vintage purse have gone missing with my misgivings…
I figured there is a time and place to worry about such things or not, if I do not place too much attachment on my material possessions and quite sleepily, I climbed into my bed and went into a deep slumber….
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Night Routine
As usual, I am one of the last to leave the office. Today I was the second last and the lights at the corridor and the bathroom were already dimmed automatically by the time I left the office.
There was an impending storm and the sky was looking to rain anytime.
I stepped out of the Tower of Power and am glad that my day is done. It was a bonus that it’s Thursday night, meaning it’s late night shopping and the shops close at 9.00 p.m. Plus tomorrow is Friday. The week has sure flown by.
I strolled along the street towards the main shopping strip, with the breeze blowing softly in my face. I knew that tonight I was to give my gym a miss yet again since I was too tired for further physical exertion. I must have been to the gym once in three months and is still paying hundreds of dollars for the membership at the hotel. I wondered how I used to have that mental will to clock in four hours a day at the gym split into two sessions, eating virtually nothing until DL came into my life to extract me from my destruction...
I walked past numerous pubs, bars and restaurants with young professionals like myself winding down for the week. I felt semi envious because I could do with a glass of wine at this stage. The only problem was that I did not have any company.
I did a quick mental combing through of my social address book and could single out no more than 3 people that I could possibly round up for a drink but even then, I need to give these people warning. First off, they are all male and are mostly married with a kid. So the Mrs. needs to be informed in advance. Then there is Dope, my first choice for an evening out but I am conscious that he too is taken by X and since the abandonment of our grey arrangement, neither of us has made a big conscious effort to catch up. Work has since taken predominance over my life and any pre-arrangements between us have become somewhat tentative and often, not followed up.
The problem here is that I lack close girlfriends in this big city that I live where I could do girly nights out, shopping trips, wine and dine or a visit to the beauty parlour. My only closest girlfriend is the older sibling who does not embrace the nightlife and where we have both proved to be bad influences with each other in the spending department. Each self-pledged window-shopping trips on the weekend has often end up otherwise, us each blowing at less a good couple of hundred bucks on vintage dresses and what not, followed by an expensive meal at the restaurant. No wonder we have had difficulty losing weight and getting back to our exercise regime.
Tonight she works the night shift in emergency and I wouldn’t see her for a good couple of days. That means I eat alone.
I became aware of my own mortality- it's me against the world. While I still deem myself mentally and physically fit to party, everyone seems to be settling down. A slight panic attack set in once more that I am fast exiting my twenties and I will slowing be losing more friends to settling down and no one to party with. What am I doing in this city with all the interesting nightlife, finally some disposable income but no mates to have fun with? I almost feel like I am in golden handcuffs.
I walked past the Men’s Gallery and was half hoping to see a Women’s Gallery for the upwardly mobile class of females like myself to unwind for the night… this is not to mention also, that a thousand phalluses has been assaulting my imagination while I was working hard away at my desk today. I felt them especially in my mouth and then the numerous imaginary hands feeling, touching and covering my body. Crazy eh!
I walked on and tried on some suits. I have the urge to buy something today, given that I feel a need to reward myself for my hard day’s work. I figured buying work related clothes would justify the expenditure outlay.
I trawled through a number of shops, looking to stock up some knitwear or business shirts for the season but found nothing that I really fancy. I felt the fabric of the knit in my hand and checked the labels to ensure that they were made of 100% natural fibre. You see, I am quite serious about the knits that I don. Cashmere, silk, wool (preferably merino over lamb) and cotton (even better, if it’s grass cotton) are what whets my clothing appetitie.
As my eyes combed the clothing racks, I suddenly recalled how I would use to buy a piece of knitwear almost every week (mainly because I was too lazy to do the laundry- can you believe it?) from Country Road when the new arrivals get merchandised. I would have preferred to wear Pringle anytime but my meagre salary of AUD$30,000 per annum as a retail store manager meant that that was all I could afford. Even then, I wonder how I managed to afford them. The girls in my shop cannot believe the serious amount of money I spent there (we were selling similar merchandise albeit a slightly lesser price point) when I could easily get my knits from our store at half price or for free (where I was given a $1000 clothing allowance each season). But still the knits there were not 100% natural fibre.
How did I survive those days, I wondered as I walked out of Country Road today, my mind still pressed on the issue of my extravagant spending in those days. Funny how I could even have savings as well. Then I remember! I had Dad’s credit card and sometimes it came in handy for me to pay for the groceries and the dining out! I was such a lucky bitch! But even then life was lived ever so precariously, especially when there were the two of us (DL and I) that I had to make a conscious effort to ensure the books were balanced. I was ever so afraid to pick up that call from home and be confronted with my financial irresponsibility…
Now, all that is over! Finally, I tell myself.
But today although I felt I had some money to burn, I couldn’t find the goods. I figured I was just feeling empty- the phenomenon of young professional working class who is constantly overworked and in need of a quick fix!
Then I was reminded of my last week’s purchases. Again for the past few consecutive weekends, I have spent money on clothes. Each item entails an outlay of at least AUD$150. A shirt here, a silk blouse there and another vintage dress or blouse, not to mention matching accessories and throw in another pair of shoes, they all add up… Oh, and yesterday, I coolly drew out AUD$1500 to pay up some credit card debts. More to come and pay in full comes pay day before the nasty interest expenses sets in and starts pinching my bank account. Then there is that long anticipated property that needs to be bought by this year. DL and I have been contemplating about buying a land and building our dream house of late, which means more money needs to be put out. So I figured enough of perving at useless, depreciable items in the shops and time to think about dinner.
Like a typical night in the week, I then sojourned to my usual Korean eatery across from my gym and have dinner solo, observing the laughing dining crowd drinking soju and sharing hot pots with their hearty company…
Then I would head home, looking forward to my date with the laptop, typing away what I please and am comforted by this creative outlet of blogging where I can vent and stay connected to the world while I remain" safe" within the confines of my four walls…
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Farewell, my boy...
So 2005 came and out goes 2006 in a split second- he has lived in Asia for more than a year.
Living and working in Asia was post the time we first met. We seemed so young then.
It also feels such a long time ago. Now he's out of Asia for good...
****
He would have touched down by now, existing half a day behind me.
Just the start of last month, I was still living in the last glimmer of hope that perhaps he would fly home to Santiago via Sydney. But then I was soon to find out that he would be heading for a stopover in London (where he was borned) instead.
Next week, I will finally arrive in Hong Kong (by a twist of fate because Bangkok was cancelled). Only that he will no longer be there.
We miss each other by a matter of days.
Hong Kong- that much anticipated trip to visit him in 2006 that I promised to take but never make.
So what of it and what's the point? I have asked myself way too a many time.
I chickened out and made excuses within myself.
Now it's been more than a year since we parted- come to think of it. Singapore 2005 was the last we met.
Somehow, I feel so 2004...
And it is now already 2007.
People must move on now, musn't they?
****
*
Dear M,
Ah, it's the year of the pig. You will be turning 24 then.... time really flies...
Do travel safe and I await a longer email when you next write.
Much Love and besos,
P
***
It must have been last December that I willed myself to wean off and let go...
Think for once in my life, I just might be able to relieve me of that dukkha...
I wish you blue birds in the spring
to give your heart a song to sing
and then a kiss but more than this
I wish you love....
My breaking heart and I agree
that you and I could never be
so with my best
my very best
I set you free...
So 2005 came and out goes 2006 in a split second- he has lived in Asia for more than a year.
Living and working in Asia was post the time we first met. We seemed so young then.
It also feels such a long time ago. Now he's out of Asia for good...
****
He would have touched down by now, existing half a day behind me.
Just the start of last month, I was still living in the last glimmer of hope that perhaps he would fly home to Santiago via Sydney. But then I was soon to find out that he would be heading for a stopover in London (where he was borned) instead.
Next week, I will finally arrive in Hong Kong (by a twist of fate because Bangkok was cancelled). Only that he will no longer be there.
We miss each other by a matter of days.
Hong Kong- that much anticipated trip to visit him in 2006 that I promised to take but never make.
So what of it and what's the point? I have asked myself way too a many time.
I chickened out and made excuses within myself.
Now it's been more than a year since we parted- come to think of it. Singapore 2005 was the last we met.
Somehow, I feel so 2004...
And it is now already 2007.
People must move on now, musn't they?
****
Hey P, well it is unlucky indeed...
Im in HK now, flying to the UK tomorrow night and to Chile end of the month.
COngratulations on the payrse/bonus... hope it make things more motivating at work?
HAppy Chinese new year too!!!
I hope all will go great for u in the year of the pig (Im a pig by the way)
Muchos besos and will write with more time from Chile
M (the affectionate nickname I bestowed upon him which I mistook for his name in my tipsy state)*
Dear M,
Ah, it's the year of the pig. You will be turning 24 then.... time really flies...
Do travel safe and I await a longer email when you next write.
Much Love and besos,
P
***
It must have been last December that I willed myself to wean off and let go...
Think for once in my life, I just might be able to relieve me of that dukkha...
I wish you blue birds in the spring
to give your heart a song to sing
and then a kiss but more than this
I wish you love....
My breaking heart and I agree
that you and I could never be
so with my best
my very best
I set you free...
I wish you shelter from a storm
A cosy fire to keep you warm
But most of all
When snow flakes fall
I wish you love…
Friday, March 02, 2007
A little step forward...
Today the procrastinator in me finally got down to unpacking my lugguage from my last trip home a few weeks ago and the overnight bag from my last inter-state trip back to DL...
Tomorrow, I will return to my joint abode with DL again. So I packed in some new clothes and a little black number for the cocktal party on Saturday night.
In two weeks' time, I will pack for Asia and back home again.
I lead a messy life. My domestic regime is zilch. My room has newspapers, books, clean clothes strewn all over the floor. Fluff Ball has a penchant for sleeping on clean clothes and peeing on the straying newspapers whenever she cannot hold her bladder any longer while us folks are out.
My work desk is also untidy (despite hints by the boss and fellow colleagues to tidy up) but there, I worked in a more organised mess.
I always believed that a cluttered room reflects a cluttered mind.
When I used to live in a hostel at university and when I first moved into living with DL, I always kept to a strict housekeeping regime. I have never been a domesticated person and had always resided on the messier side but I always hated disorderliness quite ironically. At home, there was always the ever fastidious mother to fix up the problem and in my younger days, we also had the hired help. The next two that came never quite made the cut for the standards of cleanliness that we were (or rather, the lady of the house expects all) to observe at home and inevitably were dismissed within a matter of three months. The first stayed throughout her contract. The man of the house decided to call it quits and said no more paying for the maid penalty taxes (or something in the likes).
But the apartment with DL soon turned into a pig sty as circumstances and the shift in dynamics took a toil on our personal minds. It's like falling into a dark and deep pit and it is hard for one to find one's way up again. Since then, the house never looked quite the same up till today...
****
Today I decided to restore some orderliness because I simply cannot stand it anymore and figured it might well be the first step to finding back my spiritual focus and discipline. So I did but with much struggle since I was never quite a packer or an unpacker to start of with. I always got help with packing my things- I never quite caught on that domestic versatility even during my backpacking days. It takes me three hours to pack and unpack what one could possibly do in an hour. It's way too mind boggling for me, I had said to Dr. Jekyll & Hyde on the last day where we spent time. I told him then why I needed to rush due to packing and he had said it should not take me too long.
But little by little...
The study desk is still untouched. Opened folders with thick stack of notes still lay open since my last exam revision in November. The bills needs filing (I love putting them in separate dividers labelled with different categories for credit card bills to bank statements and pay slips) as they have since piled. So are the information and brochures of different properties that I have viewed that needs to go into my property deal file that are separated into different suburbs for my reference to compare rise or fall in values in the future.
I think I'll get there.
I culled some stuff today that needs binning.
Slowly, I think I might be relieving of this physical burden of having too much. Does it accurately reflect one's state of mind too, I often wonder?
It'll take a while before the room looks half decent, not to mention the ensuite bathroom (which stinks for some reason even when I have employed the use of strong disinfectant agents) and then I'll do the living room and all.
Right now, my immediate goal is to take of my personal space first. That is, the bedroom. My proposed targeted completion date is next week.
Hopefully, my will is strong enough to see me through all that cleaning and de-toxing...
****
My dear readers, I have yet again side tracked.
I meant to write about a memory triggered off by today's cleaning experience.
In my environmentally conscious effort, I packed away some shopping bags that could be recycled for use later down the track.
I recalled my days as a young teenager in the early 1990s where my fashion supplement involved around periodicals (which no longer exist now) such as Teens, Teenage and Go Magazine (which I did a fashion shoot for once later in that decade). It was the era where owning designer labels or anything deemed "branded" were "the" thing. Everywhere, people substituted carrying proper handbags or bags with branded paper shopping bags. Guess was one of the more popular and affordable brands amongst the youngsters and one could quite easily spot a teenager totting black and white Guess shopping bags accompanied by the omniscence of Anna Nicole Smith on the streets. On the swap, buy or sell section, I remembered feeling slightly amused to read an ad posted by someone to buy "as brand new" designer paper bags. I reckoned it was someone who must be too broke to purchase the merchandise but nonetheless, self conscious enough (possibly by peer pressure) to put up a front.
My amusing obeservation and memories of fashion trends in the 90s- from the loud wealth designer extravaganza fashion fad that left little for the designer-label dressed Ah Lians to buy decent shoes (and hence resorting to wearing white mary jane canvas school shoes) to my even younger days where Espirit (which costs an exorbitant SGD$36 for a T-shirt) gear, Elle bags and Guess jeans were "the" in thing.
It was an era of good economy in Asia and everyone spent up big. I grew up pampered with the limitless pocket money and budgetless spending. I took money from the Mrs.' purse according to my whim and fancy. How was I to know that those charmed days could be over for me five years on?
I remember myself not conforming to the trend as strictly. Or rather, tastelessly, the fashion snob and individualist would much prefer to think.
At 15, I bought myself my first expensive school bag. I figured during that precocious and impressionable time of my existence(where I thought I was grown up and knew what I wanted to do in my life given that we had to now stream into either science or arts and was making THE step to attaining the intended career; screw that Singaporean education system now and am I not glad that I "screwed up" enough for my parents to have to send me away), 15 was the beginning of all things new or rather, the end (of innocence. I did kissed a boy for the first time who first led me away from the path of chastity and I learnt a few naughty things).
So yes, I bought myself a black "Storm of London" school bag with the silver metal handles. It wasn't much of a schoolbag at all since it didn't allow me to hold too many books and was really quite heavy on its own. I remembered it cost me close to SGD$90. It was a cool, semi punk rock bag that I bought at the Storm store at the basement of the then new Ngee Ann City (the store no longer exist as well). As a result,I had made a few new friends in my new class since I got (unsolicited) approval for my somewhat cool and sightly off the convention (of fashionably safe bet of Elle bags) fashion tastes. Yes, since one could only display one's fashion creativity and tastes from the school bags that one carries to school as our daily habit was governed by our ugly girls' school green uniforms.
Sheesh, just realised it's nearly 2a.m and I must've have rambled for a good hour or so. Gotta get my rest since I have a ton of teams to map out and I need all the energy to suppress my frail nerves (whenever I think I am caught out there and I have no way of getting in again to extract relevant information for the team to go for a kill).
Good night everybody. Am I not get glad that the week is nearly over?
P.S. V, do you remember my signature storm schoolbag?
I kind of miss it. 13 years on, I reckon I can use it for client meetings. What do you think? I think it's fff...funky!!! heh!;)
Today the procrastinator in me finally got down to unpacking my lugguage from my last trip home a few weeks ago and the overnight bag from my last inter-state trip back to DL...
Tomorrow, I will return to my joint abode with DL again. So I packed in some new clothes and a little black number for the cocktal party on Saturday night.
In two weeks' time, I will pack for Asia and back home again.
I lead a messy life. My domestic regime is zilch. My room has newspapers, books, clean clothes strewn all over the floor. Fluff Ball has a penchant for sleeping on clean clothes and peeing on the straying newspapers whenever she cannot hold her bladder any longer while us folks are out.
My work desk is also untidy (despite hints by the boss and fellow colleagues to tidy up) but there, I worked in a more organised mess.
I always believed that a cluttered room reflects a cluttered mind.
When I used to live in a hostel at university and when I first moved into living with DL, I always kept to a strict housekeeping regime. I have never been a domesticated person and had always resided on the messier side but I always hated disorderliness quite ironically. At home, there was always the ever fastidious mother to fix up the problem and in my younger days, we also had the hired help. The next two that came never quite made the cut for the standards of cleanliness that we were (or rather, the lady of the house expects all) to observe at home and inevitably were dismissed within a matter of three months. The first stayed throughout her contract. The man of the house decided to call it quits and said no more paying for the maid penalty taxes (or something in the likes).
But the apartment with DL soon turned into a pig sty as circumstances and the shift in dynamics took a toil on our personal minds. It's like falling into a dark and deep pit and it is hard for one to find one's way up again. Since then, the house never looked quite the same up till today...
****
Today I decided to restore some orderliness because I simply cannot stand it anymore and figured it might well be the first step to finding back my spiritual focus and discipline. So I did but with much struggle since I was never quite a packer or an unpacker to start of with. I always got help with packing my things- I never quite caught on that domestic versatility even during my backpacking days. It takes me three hours to pack and unpack what one could possibly do in an hour. It's way too mind boggling for me, I had said to Dr. Jekyll & Hyde on the last day where we spent time. I told him then why I needed to rush due to packing and he had said it should not take me too long.
But little by little...
The study desk is still untouched. Opened folders with thick stack of notes still lay open since my last exam revision in November. The bills needs filing (I love putting them in separate dividers labelled with different categories for credit card bills to bank statements and pay slips) as they have since piled. So are the information and brochures of different properties that I have viewed that needs to go into my property deal file that are separated into different suburbs for my reference to compare rise or fall in values in the future.
I think I'll get there.
I culled some stuff today that needs binning.
Slowly, I think I might be relieving of this physical burden of having too much. Does it accurately reflect one's state of mind too, I often wonder?
It'll take a while before the room looks half decent, not to mention the ensuite bathroom (which stinks for some reason even when I have employed the use of strong disinfectant agents) and then I'll do the living room and all.
Right now, my immediate goal is to take of my personal space first. That is, the bedroom. My proposed targeted completion date is next week.
Hopefully, my will is strong enough to see me through all that cleaning and de-toxing...
****
My dear readers, I have yet again side tracked.
I meant to write about a memory triggered off by today's cleaning experience.
In my environmentally conscious effort, I packed away some shopping bags that could be recycled for use later down the track.
I recalled my days as a young teenager in the early 1990s where my fashion supplement involved around periodicals (which no longer exist now) such as Teens, Teenage and Go Magazine (which I did a fashion shoot for once later in that decade). It was the era where owning designer labels or anything deemed "branded" were "the" thing. Everywhere, people substituted carrying proper handbags or bags with branded paper shopping bags. Guess was one of the more popular and affordable brands amongst the youngsters and one could quite easily spot a teenager totting black and white Guess shopping bags accompanied by the omniscence of Anna Nicole Smith on the streets. On the swap, buy or sell section, I remembered feeling slightly amused to read an ad posted by someone to buy "as brand new" designer paper bags. I reckoned it was someone who must be too broke to purchase the merchandise but nonetheless, self conscious enough (possibly by peer pressure) to put up a front.
My amusing obeservation and memories of fashion trends in the 90s- from the loud wealth designer extravaganza fashion fad that left little for the designer-label dressed Ah Lians to buy decent shoes (and hence resorting to wearing white mary jane canvas school shoes) to my even younger days where Espirit (which costs an exorbitant SGD$36 for a T-shirt) gear, Elle bags and Guess jeans were "the" in thing.
It was an era of good economy in Asia and everyone spent up big. I grew up pampered with the limitless pocket money and budgetless spending. I took money from the Mrs.' purse according to my whim and fancy. How was I to know that those charmed days could be over for me five years on?
I remember myself not conforming to the trend as strictly. Or rather, tastelessly, the fashion snob and individualist would much prefer to think.
At 15, I bought myself my first expensive school bag. I figured during that precocious and impressionable time of my existence(where I thought I was grown up and knew what I wanted to do in my life given that we had to now stream into either science or arts and was making THE step to attaining the intended career; screw that Singaporean education system now and am I not glad that I "screwed up" enough for my parents to have to send me away), 15 was the beginning of all things new or rather, the end (of innocence. I did kissed a boy for the first time who first led me away from the path of chastity and I learnt a few naughty things).
So yes, I bought myself a black "Storm of London" school bag with the silver metal handles. It wasn't much of a schoolbag at all since it didn't allow me to hold too many books and was really quite heavy on its own. I remembered it cost me close to SGD$90. It was a cool, semi punk rock bag that I bought at the Storm store at the basement of the then new Ngee Ann City (the store no longer exist as well). As a result,I had made a few new friends in my new class since I got (unsolicited) approval for my somewhat cool and sightly off the convention (of fashionably safe bet of Elle bags) fashion tastes. Yes, since one could only display one's fashion creativity and tastes from the school bags that one carries to school as our daily habit was governed by our ugly girls' school green uniforms.
Sheesh, just realised it's nearly 2a.m and I must've have rambled for a good hour or so. Gotta get my rest since I have a ton of teams to map out and I need all the energy to suppress my frail nerves (whenever I think I am caught out there and I have no way of getting in again to extract relevant information for the team to go for a kill).
Good night everybody. Am I not get glad that the week is nearly over?
P.S. V, do you remember my signature storm schoolbag?
I kind of miss it. 13 years on, I reckon I can use it for client meetings. What do you think? I think it's fff...funky!!! heh!;)
