Restructure- on your own terms

Sleepless in the Hilton...

I have just got home. It is now eight o'clock in the morning.

I left the Hilton at 6.30a.m, having tossed and turned for a good five hours, suffering from acute insomnia.

I often have sleeping problems.

My sleepless mind started to wander. A thousand Dr. Jekyll & Hydes haunting me from the night we met to the final ugly episode. Funnily, at some intervrals, E also intercepted my thoughts...People who do not deserve to occupy any of my memory space are often fond of popping at "timely" intervals where I needed the most peace of mind...

I tried to meditate by being in a state of "rest" and as I did so, I was gradually transcending into a successful slumber before three different alarm clocks and wake up calls starting ringing and jolt me from my quelling state and I was once again being jolted back to restlessness...

****

Busy, busy, busy. I forsee an active social calendar building up. Just when I think everyone, male and female alike has disappeared from my life.

First was last night with the friend. She is expecting to visit again in about a month's time.

Then V mentioned at the start of the week that she would be flying in at the end of the month to visit me. Yay- long anticipated!

That very same night, DL rang to say that Coolios who was part of our clique and whom we hadn't seen since I left for Paris had made a surprise call to say he was coming to Ozland in the next week or so and he would be hanging out at our place and would we be free to put him up. People often just rocked up and somehow the boys love to hang out at our joint abode where we have a good selection of alcohol. Occasionally, we would take the opportunity to extend our hospitality by pulling out the good old expensive vintage Penfold's that we have promised to reserve for our wedding. Obviously, the supply is dwindling and I don't think it'll last till we unscrew the cock before our wedding, if we ever hold one that is!

And just when I thought that someone has decided to write me off his romantic list since his missing in action and non replies to my emails or smses, I bumped into him online.

I was busy working away at work and by the time, I saw a "Hi sexy", it was past an hour since Nano dropped me a line. I replied quickly that I hadn't seen him online before and asked how exactly was he.

"Still trying to lose weight," was his reply.

A few more lines of small talk ensued. I was busy working away and typing furiously to amend a client presentation.

Then he mentioned that he was coming in about 2 weeks' time.

I said cool, we could hang out since I have the whole house to myself.

"Can I stay at your place? ;) "

"Yup, as long as you like till the 12th August."

"Ok, I'll keep you posted."

Who knows whether he'll turn up but we'll see.

Things in my life is subjected to so many changes at the eleventh hour, like me unexpectedly been told of coming up with a research piece with a 24-hour turnaround deadline... just when I thought I could knock off at 5.30pm finally, I was kept up till past 10pm and then back at work at 7ish in the morning.

Then there is also the phone conversation with DL that turned awry on Thursday night. He got irritated with the bad line and yet again, wasn't listening hard about something important I was telling him about my career and my recent review with the head honcho. He sounded like he was keen to put down and get on with watching TV.I slammed down the phone on him with the parting words, "Hai, it's my waste of breath talking to you..."

He hasn't since called me back. Who knows and cares?

Maybe things might boil over and I might get a call from him today on his day off. Maybe not.

Well, leave everything to fate, I guess....

Over the Weekend…

it has once again dawned upon me that I do not have friends, especially girlfriends in this city I called home for the longest time I could remember.

It never used to occur to me because I always had the older sibling and vice versa. She has been off to some destitute part of Asia to help restore the vision of the poor and trying her hands at living out of her comfort zone…

I mean, I only just realised I have been devoid of a girlfriend whom I can spend many a weekend doing girly things like shoe shopping, indulge in idle chat over a cup of tea or hi-tea, beauty therapy or do the after work wind down glass of wine or cocktail catch up at a slinky bar while perving at tall well built corporate suited male professionals with that manly charms about them. And now I should be in the best position to do so- I can finally afford my own little indulgences without much of the guilt from the old teenage days where I would quietly pull out a few $50 dollar bills from Mom’s purse to satisfy my little whims and fancies.

Seriously, I wouldn’t know who to call or turn to in need of help if the sibling wasn’t around. Of course, there is DL. But I mean someone girly to vent or someone interesting to banter with if I needed to.

Last weekend, I spoke to no one. As in anyone that I know as a friend or am acquainted to. I was alone all weekend and would be so for the next couple of weeks.

I visited the hairdresser who looked at the state of my hair and decided my hairstyle was “no style” in his Hongkie English accent when he learnt that the last I visited him was six months ago. I was kept in the salon for a good six hours because obviously, he reckoned there was much to fix up in the way of my hair-do. Which I thought might just as well be since I had nowhere to go or any social appointments scheduled in as they tend to be non-existent in my daily world.

I felt like a bloody anti-social and must be fast losing my social skills because no one spoke to me for the most part while I sat on the chair and was treated me like a “foreigner”. You see, I spoke such bad Cantonese in a salon filled with Hong Kong and mainlander Chinese hair stylists that I didn’t dare risk embarrassing myself and for some reason, they didn’t think I speak Mandarin although I entered the salon telling one of them in Mandarin that I wanted Jet, the boss to cut and colour my hair. It didn’t help that my favourite Shampoo Boy was not working there…

A series of unfortunate events ensued straight after my six-hour ordeal (of no communication and lack of good reading material. I tried my hands at deciphering the traditional Chinese characters on the Hong Kong tabloid magazine where the article of the history of the underground drug slum in Yew Ma Ti proved to be highly interesting although I was mainly trained in simplified Chinese so had to struggle through that bit as well as reading them in the Cantonese grammar to make light of the story). After handing a couple of hundred bucks to my hairstylist who is the owner of three highly busy salons in the vicinity, I was instantly being tripped over by a stupid guy who later broke the heel of my new boots, followed by my attempt to duck a drug addict and in the midst of doing so, I lost my heel as my hastened steps transcended to a quick run. As a result, I had to shop for a new pair of shoes at the nearest store I could find at 7pm (bearing in mind most shops would have shut at that hour) which I didn’t need and which gave me blisters. To top it off at the shoe shop, I was told by the shop assistant that she only accepts cash and nothing else. My nearest ATM would have been back in Chinatown but since I had visited a few cash machines prior to my hair appointment and was to realise for a strange reason that they have all decided to go on strike and be out of service, I knew with my better judgement that it would be stupid of me to walk all the way back looking silly, one boot with heel and one boot flat soled. So I sojourned to the nearest ATM within the convenience store and I am damn sure I would be charged a few dollars rather unnecessarily in transaction fees, which I am definitely not happy about!

Great! I thought now I could finally go watch a movie in peace. And yes, I finally did. Then to round off the night, I headed for the supermarket to fetch a few household items in which the weight of shopping was too hard for me to bear, while I limped feebly on my blistered feet in my new killer shoes and somehow found my way home in the wintry cold at ten o’clock at night.

I quietly wondered how and where have my life been with all these years flashed past and was fast becoming aware of my own mortality, my youth flying by and before I know it, my closest friends will get married and be firmly entrenched to their new families (as most people do) and I haven’t even have enough fun yet. By the time a late bloomer like me decides to settle down, I am almost sure I would have no girlfriends spontaneous enough to have a fun, crazy hens’ night to celebrate the end of my bachelorette-hood.

What a sad and pathetic thought, I thought to myself. It’s true that no man’s an island. If I wanted some fun, I kind of need company. It never occurred to me for the longest while. My needs in my youth were a lot easier to satisfy with what money could buy.

I then wondered why did I have so many friends in my youth and my larger than life sociable personality. Have I since lose it?

Nope, I realised I never lost it. I still have it in me to be affable in social situations. Again, I always operated alone but people were there quite conveniently as they do when one is in a place where one grows up in. I hardly keep in touch with people except for a few but there were always new acquaintances and friendships forged with friend of friend. It’s akin to a business development manager who happens to have a combination of good network and sheer luck given that she is on home ground and she needs very little effort to originate deals as they tend to flow through rather smoothly. Whereas now, I need to put myself out there to make things work. Nowadays, I this last minute thing where I might kind of chickened out where I would re-schedule or take a raincheck on any social efforts made by another party at the eleventh hour, citing busy schedule. Then any attempts at meeting up weekends would be politely declined by my family commitments to head back inter-state to spend time with DL and Fluffball. Really, I just want downtime on a non-working day. But then again, it isn’t like I have any other social commitments on school days and I pretty much have seven days a week to myself in non-working hours. How many more days alone do I need, I ask myself. I am beginnning to think I’m a recluse.

Like I always say to B jokingly with that mischievous twinkle in my eye when she muses about my lack of social life here, "You must know that I am like the flower who only blooms once a year..." Or twice, depending on the number of overseas trips I make. Then again, I need a partner-in-crime, like her to conquer the world with me. And vice versa. I always had a duo gig when I hit the clubs for some fun. B and I get each other and there is no battle of egos here. We compliment each other greatly- Ice Queen and Miss Sunshine. Guess no man is really an island eh? Or is it takes two to tango? ;)

Yet another crap post! I promise something more scintillating is coming up soon! It has been a long day at work and I must have exhausted my writing skills and creative juices on writing people assessments! Thanks to those who bothered reading through this very uninspiring post!

Self-Consciousness

Grey arrangements always put one in a funny place.

First, you have this intimate relationship with this stranger lover and then you would try to (in your head) get over whatever physical or mental barriers of self-consciousness you might have of yourself.

What tend to connect us (me and my lover) is merely our bodily fluids, perhaps from a night of alcohol mismanagement/ judgement impairment. I call it body language.

The other forms of communication that would ensue or not post sex would really be reliant on a variety of circumstances and of course, post intimacy attraction.

Quietly, I often mused at the rise of such arrangements in my life- how little they know of me and vice versa. The mere idea of them penetrating me physically but never my soul makes me a little pensive. After all, I didn’t grow up to be physically callous about me but there are days where I psyched myself to dispel that protective, egotistical “I” in me and let my experience be one social experimentation of see how far I could put myself out of that safe comfort zone of “moral” orderliness.

“I want to penetrate you and rape your soul.”

The Old Boy once declared ardently in one of our passionate, in good jest communications.

I only show hand to the point I could handle it. After all, I am one who is still trapped in my Ego and that physical self-consciousness of my earthly body…

****

Post-sex, I wiped us up.

We cuddled for a bit.

Then he got up and went to the bathroom to wash himself up.

The chauffer and his friend were waiting in the car outside my residence.

For the first time, I noticed that he had shaved as we stood before the big mirror across the wall.

He looked at himself in the mirror examining his naked body at different angles.

Then I hugged him from behind and kissed him lightly on his shoulder. He smiled at me somewhat shyly through the reflection of the mirror.

“Do you think I am fat?” He continued looking at himself in the mirror self-consciously.

“No baby, of course not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course, silly.”

He turned to hug me and kissed me.

This was a man who trains for boxing four times a week with a personal trainer. His firm body has hardly an ounce of fat on him. In his youth, he was a swimmer.

Half the time, I was more thinking along the lines that I was the fatty with my excesses at the tummy.

Much later, I googled Ted when I was back in Australia. Then I saw those pictures of the golfers taken in 2001 (which I shared with the Old Boy). He has lost a fair bit of weight so he must still be haunted by the shadows of his “fat” days.

Then rather amusingly, I recalled that prior to our intimacy at my place, we were at his friend’s party. He was feeding himself with some form of a local pork dish and was sucking the succulent juice left on his fingers. I ate nothing (given that I was still suffering from the ill effects of hangover from our previous big night).

I asked him what he was having.

“Isn’t that all fat?”

He nodded his head.

“Eww…” I looked at that piece of meat on his hand disgustingly and rather carelessly.

He then got self-conscious and very quickly, got rid of the pork and refrained from another one.

It didn’t help that I had such a bad hangover appetite that for the nth time that night, he had remarked that I don’t eat very much at all.

It must have made him feel like a “pig” as I quote him on sms once when he updated me that he had been slack with his training and has been eating like one since I left.


****

“I need to lose more weight to be confident for you. I don’t think I would be ready in September.”

“Don’t be silly, Nano. You don’t have to lose weight for me. If you do, do it for yourself, not me.”

“Do you think I am fat, P?”

“Silly, you look just fine. I would take you for what you are if I were single.”

“Oh really? This really makes my day.”

We moved onto another topic.

I found Nano back on the topic of Ted. My dinner with Nano and my hosts was curtailed that night as Ted and his entourage came to pick me up at the shopping mall owned by Nano’s family. Nano was hoping to get to know me better that night.

“So you did it with the Chino?”

“Yes. Do you know him personally?”

“No. But he is so ugly!”

“Don’t be mean, Nano.”

“But he is.”

“Looks are not important to me. His name is Ted, by the way.”

Then the conversation got carried over to something else.

Out of the blue, Nano got back to the topic.

“But he is ugly as shit…”

“You are so mean, Nano!”

“By the way P, do you think I am ugly?”

****

Throughout the duration of our grey arrangement for the one year or so, he never touched me.

I have always deemed him as a mimosa that shied away from my touch.

With every greater passion, I felt for him, the more he got into his shell.

Apart from kissing me, he never touched me. While I gave him pleasure and rouse his dormant privates to a thick hard rod, Dope even in his state of pleasure retained his restrained demeanour. His hands stroking my back lightly as we rubbed our bodies wildly together, my mouth continued to head south.

Post intimacy while we laid in bed, me in his arms, he would speak in his usual deep, quiet tone where confidentially, I caught glimpses of his soul.

“You know, I’ve only been with one person…”

He admitted self-consciously. It wasn’t the first time that he had to remind me. He has come to view me as being more “experienced”.

“What does it matter, Baby? I like you for what you are.”

I would stroke his face affectionately.

“I haven’t done it with her since December…”

That would have been a bit more than a year.

He is a fine-looking Eurasian young man. In his youth, he was once a model.

In our university days, I was totally infatuated with him. My plan to get him on a weekend school trip to the beaches was thwarted by an interceptor, a Japanese girl. He had a number of girls going after him.


When we got back weeks later, he got attached to someone else. His current Designated Love.

But we met again six years on in a new city, me having progressed carnally in my love, accumulating experiences that perhaps I would rather not have wished for.

Funny, he remembered how we first met (his first, not mine since I was observing him with interest long before he noticed me). Six years on in our late twenties as young professional adults, my Dope (then I thought he was one of the better catches that I would like to snare in my teeny booper-ish age) and I would indulge in many a quiet nights rendezvousing at our favourite bar as we watched our watches closely and abide to our restricted times…

I met him when I have gained a fair bit of weight. I felt really fat. We were twenty.

And Dope being self-conscious with me now? How would I ever guess it would have been this way round?

Labels: THE P-oignant Moments

Heartbeat

The other day, the Old Boy and I got spontaneous. I was in a good mood for some reason. I started sharing with him the pictures of some of my grey arrangements and flings which I managed to find on the internet (since I never personally keep anyone’s pictures as a rule of thumb).

It has been a while since both of us caught up, what with both our work and lots happening in his personal life. That day turned out to be such great fun as I found one picture after another to show him. The next day, he started sharing pictures of his grey arrangements and lovers. Most of them young chicks that he have had some good fun with in threes or twos. He cautioned (as usual, self-consciously) that I should not be too critical of their looks and pre-empted each time in his email before I could open up the attachments that I might not “approve” of this one or that one. (Well, I wonder if we’re ever going to repeat that given that we fell out yesterday because as usual, I “upset” him yet again with what he called my “self-righteousness” as I called him a liar.)

He made comments on the appearance of each of the man. One looking too “uppy”, M being too skinny, the “Aura” having a face too long (?!), surprisingly he found Nano's European looks not bad-looking (?!) and Ted not as “unattractive” looking as I had earlier hinted to him. He had the hardest time guessing which one amongst a group of golfers as I was too self-conscious to point it out to him outright. (He was praying for me the darnest that Ted was not the man in the striped polo shirt in the front who looked like he was in his 50s.) You see, B just saw Ted’s picture and then she shook her head at me disapprovingly. Then there was Nano who once remarked that Ted looked “ugly as shit” and was perhaps disappointed that I had been with Ted instead of him.

I told B as I confessed with the Old Boy a while ago that I reckon I have a secret fantasy to date(by popular consent) a not very good –looking man because it must make someone’s day (I don’t see myself as absolutely gorgeous but again, I know my good value. It must be that servitude in me once again. Heh!). I asked the Old Boy if he could tell why I have this complex alhough I have no lack of self-confidence in my appearance.

Anyhow, Old boy asked if I had any “cheena-looking” boyfriend to show him. I said DL and the pilot loh! They’re both Chinese (and actually so is Ted). He said at least the Pilot has nice features (so I read that he meant not too good looking Chinese guys) but he could not comment on DL since he hasn’t seen him.

I kept prodding him about what he thought of M, my Beautiful Boy.

*****

When I chanced upon that pic of M on his facebook, my heart skipped a beat.

The thought of meeting him again now is enough to give me tingles down my spine and goosebumps on my skin.

I don’t know why M still has this effect on me.

I reckon to be able to see my beautiful boy again is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Looking at his picture or a jolt of his memory never fails to make me sigh.

I wonder if I’ll forever be haunted by the ghost of his memory and that shadow of his smile.

*****

Just before, I logged onto my friendster. I went to view my buddy, Harry’s profile as he has posted some new photos.

Then, I saw a group pic. There he was- that Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.

My heart too skipped a beat.

Recently, I’ve secretly been thinking of him every so often.

That personal injury he has done me continues to haunt me. It still hurt for me to have to view him likewise as a person and I am still haunted by the night at St.James.

I know its my ego and I can’t help it since weight has always been something that I have always been conscious about and every so often, I re-examine myself and introduce sporadic diet or exercise regimes to get over me.

My dosage has been maxed, food intake cut down, just short of exercising enough apart from the once a week group training boxing and fitness session with the trainer where I take a breather from work during lunchtime.

I don’t know why he still has that hold over me.

I reckon I always knew that I could have fallen for him if not for that fateful night where his lack of lucidity gave him away.

It must be a blessing in disguise for me, isn’t it?

I wonder why fate did the same for me with M at Paris and then at the last minute decide to take it back from me just so that I could love him harder and be haunted by those bitter sweet memories in Singapore?

Sigh, why do I still suffer from the classic "love" symptons of the quickening of the heartbeat?

I thought with the rise in my self-confidence over the course of the years, the refinement of my persona from my accumulated "worldliness", not to mention those years of grilling from life's challenges would have been enough for me to be less fragile and leave me no room for having soft spots for less deserving or deserving types alike?

Quoting B's usual words of changing her own persona/ mindset, I think I need a computer reboot of my emotional hardware...

The T-shirt’s (cheeky) Journey

On the first day that B touched down, I went to her hotel to visit her without the intention to stay for the night. As usual, I should not have expected less. So there I was, unprepared with no change of clothes. She replied that she has brought extra home wear.

My best friend whipped out a Timberland ladies’ T-shirt and said mischievously, “Guess whose T-shirt is this?”

We burst out laughing cheekily.

You see, it belongs to the Big Boy’s girlfriend or rather, fiancée.

A year and a bit ago, B stayed his place. Then she defected back to the original script. That was, him for me and the friend for her.

(They left it off with a bad taste in his mouth and never saw each other again. Until, that very fateful day, almost 10 months on, the Big Boy and I walked towards our intended lunch destination where the verdict was then finally handed over to me while I had mentally pre-empted the outcome and prepared myself for the worst.

We passed the al fresca dining area of a restaurant where B sat lunching amongst a small group of business associates. He caught sight of her in a timely manner where she looked up and their eyes met. Then walking not far behind was moi, whom she did not expect. Well, the three of us did not expect to see each other at the same place at the same time. B was busy with work as I was busy with V on practising to get my spirituality back on track. So essentially, we had no time to collaborate or strategise even if we had planned to in the first place.

The timing was spot on. She looked wonderful.

It was all too surreal for him to see her again. Ironically, it all took place in my presence.

They smiled and waved briefly and then he walked on. I headed towards her direction.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re out with him today?”

We looked at each other bewilderedly. B’s eyes widened like she would expect nothing less from witchy me. I always have to vortex/ karma of living life like a badly written script of one too a many coincidences.

Then they was my green dress that she caught sight of in her periphery view, which she coincidentally mistook for my high school uniform. The first thought that came to her mind before realising my presence was why was there a girl from XYZ High School following him behind.

“I don’t know. It was arranged at short notice and you’ve been busy and not contactable...”)

The T-shirt nor the slippers were ever returned to the rightful owner.
We always find it amusing as to how he was to account for the missing items should she ever start looking for them.


Then there was our intended romantic affair that never actualised.

“There, you can wear this T-shirt.”

“Oh, how very funny that it’s now my turn.”

I put on the T-shirt after my shower. I found it slightly constricting. It wouldn’t have fit me too well if I had put my bra on.

She must be a petite girl.

This T-shirt is quite a special little thing, isn’t it?

It has definitely travelled far and wide intimately with the girls that he has or would have liked to spend intimate moments with.

I wonder if things may come full circle and fate might pull yet a classic stunt- me in that T-shirt with B when we bumped into him and his would be wife.

T-shirt emerges oh so timely and finally explains the disappearance for itself- "Gone wandering."

Well, then perhaps, the T-shirt might be compelled to retire from its travels. There, it be returned to its rightful owner. Although I must say, it’ll never feel quite the same on her again. ;)

He’s my Man…


“Daddy, I missed you sooo much…” I whined and mock sobbed.

“I am such a poor baby, no one loves me…” I continued my whining, my poor puppy eyes downcast as I pouted and then sucked in my cheeks to don my usual pathetic face.

“Oh come here, Darling loves you lah…” he replied affectionately in his child-like manner as he continued playing with the dog.

He is a sucker for my lost pathetic schoolgirl look (perhaps because in other usual circumstances, my tone and topics are usually serious and heavy).

“Well, Mummy is only missing Daddy now because there is no one else who is loving her at the moment…”he said half kidding, perhaps half seriously as he looked up and our eyes met, his hands continued to rub Fluffball’s tummy playfully.

“Says who?" I retorted lamely.

I was guilty as charged. I had no real action in my extracurricular social life.

I gave him a sheepish smile.

He reciprocated with his knowing wisdom, disguised underneath that child-like mischievous smart-ass smile.


****

About two months or so ago, I have it in me to re-new my internal commitment for us to come together.

We were on the topic of his non-existent career development and the inefficient allocation of our joint financial resources.

I have invited him to come live with me.

But first off, the usual pragmatic me has pre-empted the foreseen challenges.

His big move inter-state will prove to be a double-edged sword. Although that would save him forking more than half his monthly pay in rent (since he would pay none living with me) monthly, he would have difficulty in securing a job. He has no real qualifications in what he does despite his talent, which made it hard for him to compete in this great big city as we have zero contacts here. On the other hand, he could try his hands at getting a day office job bean counting, which was what he is qualified in doing but that might too prove difficult given a combination of his bad university grades, short employment history in that field due to haplessness and having graduated a long time ago with a CV that is filled with experience that has more to do with using one’s taste buds, visual and olfactory senses than one’s ability to balance the books.

Like what I do best in my profession, I have observed for a long time that he has a good innate ability to get it within the financial markets.

We attended a seminar that he was interested in and we or rather, I devised a plan.

In order to enable him to fish and make himself useful in the household (as he has learnt from our prior years of co-habitation how I loathed idleness), I had to first invest in his education. I will pull out a couple of thousand bucks for him to learn the ropes of options trading within a sensible environment.

Then he could learn to make money within the confines of our four walls at a faster rate and at his own pace. He was to take this opportunity of being a man of leisure (i.e. not bounded by a rostered/ desk bound job) to save some money and source for ideas and plan for his own gig.

When I finally find the ideal inner city Eastern suburb pad to buy, we’ll set up home together. He can continue to be that man of leisure who will take Fluffball on her usual daily stroll, albeit being in a more fanciful suburb while they stop by at an Italian café for his daily tea reading his papers. Then he can sojourn home to trade online when the markets open. By evening, I return home after a hard day’s work and I know that my man has a sumptuous dinner prepared ready for us to tuck in. We would discuss about our day, ideas and inspirations to build those little solid steps towards a strong foundation of what is to come for our grand plans. Then in another year or so, we’ll buy another place. We might then finally come together…

He is a man who loves to have a set daily routine and to be able to feel a sense of being close to home i.e. moi. I figured he might find this lifestyle quite appealing.

“So what say you, Darling?”

“Oh Baby is cunning!

Heh, heh…She is trying to ‘cheat’ me by paying $4000 for a lifetime ‘Maria’ (maid)!”


He replied in his mischievous tone. No doubt, he was pleased at the offer.

What can I say? He knows me best.

I loved to be serviced.

He knows his good value as I know mine.

Guess we complement each other that way.

*****

At the eleventh hour when I was resolute to kiss our relationship goodbye for good with the final straw incident, as usual, he turned up at my doorstep with the Fluffball, unaware of the extent of the grief that he has caused me.

It was Fluffball’s tenth human birthday.

I gave him the cold shoulder initially and later told him that I had meant to sever our relationship there and then on that fateful Friday night.

He tried to explain himself and we kept our tones hushed before the older sibling as the three of us headed out for breakfast.

Later in the afternoon when we had time to ourselves, we bought a bottle of wine and fresh sashimi and sat in the car by a harbour at a wealthy northern suburb. We fed the spoilt little Fluffball her favourite sashimi by hand on her special day and recounted the years that have gone by…

It was exactly five years ago that day where we brought our little Fluffball home from the rescue shelter. From there, our lives went downhill. We led a precarious life, what with our over-spending first as we started moving in together, then trouble with a neighbour that nearly led to our eviction because unbeknownst to us, Fluffball suffered from separation anxiety and would not stop barking till we came home, a crashed car on a highway accident that left us in an even poorer state, cycling in the cold winter with Fluffball in his jacket as we headed to university, taking turns to baby-sit her between attending classes, the opening of the Pandora’s Box from all those hidden frustration and anger, more trouble with the law and finding money for the best criminal lawyer in town, finding money to replace a fridge and a washing machine that had to be returned to the owner when money was seriously draining out of our pockets at a rate faster than we could have made…. the list went on….

For many years, it didn’t rained. It just poured.

We sat there and we talked.

I told him I was disappointed with him that night. Very. In my serious tone that always instils fear or anxiety in some people.

He kept quiet.

I spent many years being there for him.

And on Friday night, he could not even lend me his listening ear.

I could not be with someone who could not give me that basic support I needed when I talk about my work.

He depressed me for many years.

I finally told him. I asked if he had realised the extent of grief he had caused me all those dark years.

He broke me apart. The countless of tears he had caused me to shed- did he realise that?

I will never be the same person again. I guessed I have changed, I continued.

I have contemplated on leaving him way too many times. But I thought for him, psyching myself that perhaps when he is ready on his own.

But then I reckon by the time he is ready, why would I leave him?

I have done a lot of hard yards with him, did he realise that?

I believed in his abilities more than he did in himself and it took us so long to be on the same page. We are only slowly coming together.

I learnt a few good things from him and I did hope he would go away learning a few things or two from our relationship if we ever to exit from each others’ lives.

I told him I had to learn to take a step back, to teach him to fish instead of giving him the fish. It all didn’t come easy for me too. I used to nag at him so much I felt like his mother (or maybe the school mistress). I was also very good at laying down a safety net for him. I caught him while he fell and I must have crumbled under his weight.

Then there is my sentimentality for the Fluffball and him. Guess the Fluffball has a big part to play in this- she made it hard for me to leave. You see, I placed too much attachment to that little creature like how a parent find it hard to divorce his/her spouse because of the existence of the child. The thought of never ever seeing my dog again is too hard to bear in those days (as I knew I would have gladly given up custody of her because she would definitely have been happier with DL; like the man of the house, I made a better provider but I reckon I suck at being domesticated and attentive to young things) so I gritted my teeth and made our joint arrangement work because the thought of not seeing my precious little girl again was too hard for me to bear. I could feel the pain in my heart at the very thought. Then there were also other survival factors. We had only each other as we got quite cut off from our families for a long while…

“I didn’t have your maturity in all those years when you saw all the trouble coming for me.

We have come a long way so don’t leave just now.

I was upset and angry too when you left… It took me a while to understand…”

“I had too because you killed my soul. I couldn’t live like that.

Look at me now. I wouldn’t make what I have made if I continued living there…

Two years ago, I came with nothing and made $x and then lost my job. But two years on, my income has doubled. I couldn’t have if I stayed with you and I’ll continue to wonder about my potential… plus living with you depressed me, you were wearing me down and I figured it was best that you figure out what you want to do on your own or you’ll always view me as your safety net while I continue to feel unhappy without having a career. I always knew what I wanted out of my life…”


So it all ended well. It was a heartfelt talk. I tried to get as close to the truth as I could.

I told him I have since been a different person. I don’t think I could ever reverse that again.

He recognised he had taken up a good part of my youth and I saw through his years of mule-headedness.

Sometimes I sensed a glimmer of his inkling about me. Perhaps its his leeway for making up for all the foolhardy grief he had caused me, that impact has only dawned upon him in the past recent year or so.

“I never pun on the wrong horse. But you got to believe in yourself.”


I told him I loved him enough to stand by him and bring the best out of him, not forgetting that I have put a great amount of my social ambitions on hold. He has always been sort of my “risky” investment. Well, sort of like a distressed debt that I am trying to turnaround. I see some good value there and perhaps love the meaningfulness of it all.

But even then, some days, I confessed that I questioned my decision to stick to my guts and wonder if I know when to exit a lost cause. Isn’t it true that it isn’t hard for an investor to learn when to buy but the challenging bit is when to sell?

There are days when I think there is very little need for words. I feel that he understood the poignancy of my words and decision.

I love living larger than life. Going forward, if things were not to work out, I would continue to reach out for the type of partnership I have always sought. Start on the intended higher baseline and stick to that business plan so that I could finally kick off my life on my own terms.

I too, have communicated that to him.

But I recognise therein would lie the trade-off. I’ll never find one who loves me in the smallest, sensitive little way again. Someone who puts my interest before his and pamper me in the silliest little ways- puts on my favourite jazz music to facilitate my waking up a little bit less grumpier, manicures and shapes my bitten nails to look like a lady’s fingers, whips up the nicest dishes, ensures that our joint abode looks more like a home when I return, surprises me with a diamond studded watch while the rent remained overdue (much to my great dismay and anger when I received the call from the agent), the best parent and husband one could ever have…

I have never been emotionally needy. His little actions were criteria that I never factored in when I looked for a partnership.

I reckon my life would go on should an unfortunate day as such ever arrives…

But then again, when one chances upon something better than what one ever knows what would one do?

*****

At the start of our relationship in 2000, we learnt about our very first childhood aspirations.

“I wanted to be artist.”

“I have always aspired to be the best husband in the world.

I have been ready to be a father and a husband since I was 23”


I sneered at him and thought it was so stupid.

In my youthful smart-ass know-it-all precocious cynicism, I didn’t know better.

He has always been a lot wiser than me that way. He has an old-fashioned and simplistic view towards bliss. He follows his heart and has little expectations of the world and much affection and love to give wholeheartedly and unconditionally.

On the other hand, my mind has always part governed my actions and I have always been goal oriented.

He earned my love and time (for me to want to do the hard yards) as I earned his is what I am wont to say.

But over the years, I too, came to the enlightenment for a few things or two.

Try to reason love and you would lose your reason.

*****

I have a curiosity for fortune-telling, clairvoyance, palm-reading and the like.

A good four years ago, I went to an Indian palm reader.

The first thing he said was, “ You have man. You have a man who loves you very much.

I don’t know about you but he loves you very much.

But you’ll never leave him…”


Then there were a few other people who read my aura and my palms at different junctures in my life. Like the Indian, they seem to allude to my affairs and emotional disturbances.

However, they all tend to adopt a similar pensiveness, like they were trying to make sense of my palm lines or aura. Everyone concluded that I would end up with the second serious boyfriend, which I would have brought home to meet the parents.

That’s him. The first boy I brought home was the pilot.

On two occasions, two different clairvoyants said with a half sigh (seemingly feeling confused themselves), “Perhaps your current boyfriend is your soul mate after all…”


But of course, DL is the Designated Love of my life. This wandering ship will return to its harbour unless of course, the harbour no longer exists to welcome it home.