Sunday, February 24, 2008
A 10-minute Reflection
It's almost the end of February 2008, I just realised. I have since suffered three freaking menstrual cycles in 2008 when only two months have passed. The markets have moved so quickly and so has the pace of my life back Down Under. I can barely have time to eat or think straight before the next deal comes along and I am piled with more work to do, on top of juggling with studies. Today, on a Sunday afternoon, I take a half hour lunch break before I plough through that assignment for my studies due tomorrow. I am cramming all my studies to the weekend. Comes the new week, I have a fresh set of challenges (or perhaps disasters) awaiting me in the office, pressing deadlines and expectations to manage. Just when I think I could rejoice with a glass of wine and a late night tomorrow evening with two new friends after I hand in my assignment, I have been told on Friday that I will be hoping onto a 6.30am flight inter-state on Tuesday for more work and back to Sydney same day where I am most likely going to pull an all-nighter...
Just last month, I was back home. I had a GREAT time. January 2008 seems to me like eons ago although memories of my daily activities are still vivid in my head. The first memory that distinctly comes to mind about my trip back home strangely is the scene on 31st December where the Old Boy took me on my first trip to a Hotel 81 near my house- I had only three hours to spare.The Sunday night before, I had texted him to "fuck off" when he said he couldn't come out to meet me. He was hurt but guess since we were so new in our relationship, I got my way with him and he came to appease a very brat-ish P and brought with him a sashimi hamper and more food for us to share in bed where he devoted his attention to serving me from top to bottom and fed me like a baby...
Yes, it was the day I told him he was the oldest man I have fucked.
It was a strange day, that earlier sense of coyness I felt as we entered the room. It was our first time being intimate in a "proper" room and prior to that, we had a quickie in his car.I now recall the scene and the general feel of the mood of when we got into the room. Our tongues interacted passionately and freely as we were temporarily shielded from the rest of the world. Then he gently got me to lie on my stomach on our bed. He first informed that he would take off his clothing as it was hindering his movements and stripped himself down to his boxer trunks. Then he climbed on top of me and tried to massage me. I had my black lacy spaghetti strapped top on and was in my black knickers. I just got my period on that day. He threaded carefully on the topic of whether he could please remove my clothing (as I had earlier flagged no sex given my period and the mere idea of stripping myself down to my undergarments for the first time and for him to witness me wearing an unsightly sanitary pad; yes I am not a tampon person although the Old Boy already knew for the longest time I am an old fashioned sanitary pad gal which he also prefers for some reason)...
I barely have time to catch up on myself. The emotions of the November 2007 break up with DL remains raw and hard to talk about, without first reducing me still to tears. As I strolled along the harbour and walked past wonderful fine dining establishments, I could not help but think about our gig that we dreamt about-DL and mine. It's never quite the same again I guess. The Older Sibling mentioned that DL too has lost interest in his cooking but devotes his time to the conventional professional services career route, although he still maintains a few hours a week of restaurant work...Guess it was me-I didn't have the strength to follow through.
Then my heart continues to suffer in pain-the Old Boy having moved on and continued with his promiscuous ways. I continue to miss him fondly more than I could care to pen down here. It's all too emotionally draining. My feelings remain intense and I feel so weak and defeated by my heart.
Even the fling that V and Oscar have receded from the memories of everyone (except perhaps Oscar himself). V has since been with the German we met through Oscar on Christmas Eve. V is moving in with her German beau next weekend.
How things take a turn so quickly and people could move on...
Oh, the Norwegian I had when I was back last month, I almost forgot. He is a M lookalike. A couple of weeks ago, I met the Norwegian online and I couldn't imagine my own callousnes. I asked, "What time is Sweden now?" To which he replied, "I don't know cos I am not from Sweden :) " Then, I realised my faux pas.
In other news, M has broken up with his girlfriend a couple of months ago. I didn't realise he had a girlfriend. Anyhow, he mentioned toying with the idea of visiting Australia end of the year or next year to get together. M is still a beautiful looking boy. If he comes, he comes. I guess I have long got over this boy whom I used to be so in love with. Once I am over someone, I guess I have pretty much write them off. No residual feelings whatsoever. Just like Mr. London whom my emotions hung on dearly for a good eight years. When I let go, I just do and never looked back. Last month I finally met him for the first time in three years post Paris. He looked the same, richer and having a more beautiful Thai singer girlfriend. Again, we had the same awkwardness that we always had since we were seventeen. We didn't have too much to say, left too much unsaid for too long and still we reckon we must surely have something to say except there is really none now. As Old Boy always puts it, "Wind blow already.."
I need more of that ability to let go to get me through these days.My heart has been subjected to too many stress tests. Some days, I swear I do feel suicidal, especially when I could derive nothing positive to psych myself.
I should internalise key words and actions like "Fuck and chuck" and "Pump and dump".
I must. I really must try.
In less than 2 weeks' time, I return home yet again- excited to spend time with the Old Boy and what's left of my entourage but as usual, apprehensive. Apprehensive that it might well be a re-enactment of my March visit last year. Buckets of tears and a sore heart that will take more to heal, I can assure you. Last year was Dr. Jekyll & Hyde, a mere stranger lover but this time round, the force will be more lethal. Now, I am really getting cold feet...
Oh,that third unused condom bestowed by V to prepare me for a spontaneous occasion with the Old Boy is still seating in the attached flat zipped purse compartment of my handbag like a talisman, accompanying me to work everyday and reminding me that it wasn't all that long ago...
It's almost the end of February 2008, I just realised. I have since suffered three freaking menstrual cycles in 2008 when only two months have passed. The markets have moved so quickly and so has the pace of my life back Down Under. I can barely have time to eat or think straight before the next deal comes along and I am piled with more work to do, on top of juggling with studies. Today, on a Sunday afternoon, I take a half hour lunch break before I plough through that assignment for my studies due tomorrow. I am cramming all my studies to the weekend. Comes the new week, I have a fresh set of challenges (or perhaps disasters) awaiting me in the office, pressing deadlines and expectations to manage. Just when I think I could rejoice with a glass of wine and a late night tomorrow evening with two new friends after I hand in my assignment, I have been told on Friday that I will be hoping onto a 6.30am flight inter-state on Tuesday for more work and back to Sydney same day where I am most likely going to pull an all-nighter...
Just last month, I was back home. I had a GREAT time. January 2008 seems to me like eons ago although memories of my daily activities are still vivid in my head. The first memory that distinctly comes to mind about my trip back home strangely is the scene on 31st December where the Old Boy took me on my first trip to a Hotel 81 near my house- I had only three hours to spare.The Sunday night before, I had texted him to "fuck off" when he said he couldn't come out to meet me. He was hurt but guess since we were so new in our relationship, I got my way with him and he came to appease a very brat-ish P and brought with him a sashimi hamper and more food for us to share in bed where he devoted his attention to serving me from top to bottom and fed me like a baby...
Yes, it was the day I told him he was the oldest man I have fucked.
It was a strange day, that earlier sense of coyness I felt as we entered the room. It was our first time being intimate in a "proper" room and prior to that, we had a quickie in his car.I now recall the scene and the general feel of the mood of when we got into the room. Our tongues interacted passionately and freely as we were temporarily shielded from the rest of the world. Then he gently got me to lie on my stomach on our bed. He first informed that he would take off his clothing as it was hindering his movements and stripped himself down to his boxer trunks. Then he climbed on top of me and tried to massage me. I had my black lacy spaghetti strapped top on and was in my black knickers. I just got my period on that day. He threaded carefully on the topic of whether he could please remove my clothing (as I had earlier flagged no sex given my period and the mere idea of stripping myself down to my undergarments for the first time and for him to witness me wearing an unsightly sanitary pad; yes I am not a tampon person although the Old Boy already knew for the longest time I am an old fashioned sanitary pad gal which he also prefers for some reason)...
I barely have time to catch up on myself. The emotions of the November 2007 break up with DL remains raw and hard to talk about, without first reducing me still to tears. As I strolled along the harbour and walked past wonderful fine dining establishments, I could not help but think about our gig that we dreamt about-DL and mine. It's never quite the same again I guess. The Older Sibling mentioned that DL too has lost interest in his cooking but devotes his time to the conventional professional services career route, although he still maintains a few hours a week of restaurant work...Guess it was me-I didn't have the strength to follow through.
Then my heart continues to suffer in pain-the Old Boy having moved on and continued with his promiscuous ways. I continue to miss him fondly more than I could care to pen down here. It's all too emotionally draining. My feelings remain intense and I feel so weak and defeated by my heart.
Even the fling that V and Oscar have receded from the memories of everyone (except perhaps Oscar himself). V has since been with the German we met through Oscar on Christmas Eve. V is moving in with her German beau next weekend.
How things take a turn so quickly and people could move on...
Oh, the Norwegian I had when I was back last month, I almost forgot. He is a M lookalike. A couple of weeks ago, I met the Norwegian online and I couldn't imagine my own callousnes. I asked, "What time is Sweden now?" To which he replied, "I don't know cos I am not from Sweden :) " Then, I realised my faux pas.
In other news, M has broken up with his girlfriend a couple of months ago. I didn't realise he had a girlfriend. Anyhow, he mentioned toying with the idea of visiting Australia end of the year or next year to get together. M is still a beautiful looking boy. If he comes, he comes. I guess I have long got over this boy whom I used to be so in love with. Once I am over someone, I guess I have pretty much write them off. No residual feelings whatsoever. Just like Mr. London whom my emotions hung on dearly for a good eight years. When I let go, I just do and never looked back. Last month I finally met him for the first time in three years post Paris. He looked the same, richer and having a more beautiful Thai singer girlfriend. Again, we had the same awkwardness that we always had since we were seventeen. We didn't have too much to say, left too much unsaid for too long and still we reckon we must surely have something to say except there is really none now. As Old Boy always puts it, "Wind blow already.."
I need more of that ability to let go to get me through these days.My heart has been subjected to too many stress tests. Some days, I swear I do feel suicidal, especially when I could derive nothing positive to psych myself.
I should internalise key words and actions like "Fuck and chuck" and "Pump and dump".
I must. I really must try.
In less than 2 weeks' time, I return home yet again- excited to spend time with the Old Boy and what's left of my entourage but as usual, apprehensive. Apprehensive that it might well be a re-enactment of my March visit last year. Buckets of tears and a sore heart that will take more to heal, I can assure you. Last year was Dr. Jekyll & Hyde, a mere stranger lover but this time round, the force will be more lethal. Now, I am really getting cold feet...
Oh,that third unused condom bestowed by V to prepare me for a spontaneous occasion with the Old Boy is still seating in the attached flat zipped purse compartment of my handbag like a talisman, accompanying me to work everyday and reminding me that it wasn't all that long ago...
