Thursday, May 29, 2008
C'est La Vie
Just before, the Old Boy cut me off online. I mean, for good.
I have incurred his wrath.
He vowed he would never speak to me again.
How our cyber argument escalated to arrive at this is almost comical.
Guess what? It was over a washing machine.
Perhaps, one would expect that our final parting shot would take off on a grander note.
Then again, we first met online so parting online we shall end.
Things must come full circle.
*****
This morning, the Old Boy mentioned that the household washing machine has broken down on him finally after eleven years. He would need a replacement.
Then we moved on to chat idly about other stuff.
Abruptly, he said he had to go. He needed to go buy a washing machine.
Why? I asked. I was aware of the time. It was only 10.30am on his end.
My mind was moving, thinking and churning at its usual lightning speed.
why so abrupt...10.30am...Not lunch time yet... he just got a new job... where is his boss... would he be getting into trouble for leaving...why the sudden hurry...
As usual, I skipped a few steps of rationalising my question to him.
Instead, I merely reiterated why and mentioned the time. Then I added that his maid could hand wash for the time being ( or not wash for a day) and added yeah (perhaps as assurance that it was ok without a day of washing) that even my mum handwashes most of the clothes except spin drying.
Then he got really mad and asked me why do I always asked him so many questions and why must his maid hand wash the clothes when she had to look after his two (precious) children and told me I am not his boss ok and he will go and buy his washing machine as and when he pleased.
The Old Boy told me at that point that he was really mad.
I said to him I was just concerned that he wouldn't get into trouble.
Stop it, stop it, stop it, he must be screaming on the other end.
Then he logged off on me.
*****
About 45 mins ago, he got back and logged on.
I'm back, he said.
Oh, you are back, I said.
He told me a little bit about his new washing machine and that was all good.
You are not angry anymore, I asked.
Guess not, he said.
Oh good.
I was boiling mad before with hot goose bumps rising that hurt me, he said.
Huh.
I get that when I am very angry, he said.
But why this angry? I was just concerned about your well-being and getting into trouble with the boss, I said.
Sometimes, you are so insensitive, he said.
I was just concerned about you, I said.
You should be more concerned about the washing machine, he said.
That's a dead object. I was worried about you to your boss. Or maybe your colleagues might tell on you for leaving work to do personal stuff, I said.
I am no. 2 in the office ok and I can say I am going out to do work stuff, he said.
Ok, I said.
Now apologise, he said.
I don't want to, I said.
And you said, you are not angry anymore, I added.
If you don't, I would NEVER speak to you again, he threatened.
I will count to 3, he said.
I am not your child. Hehehheheheeh, I said and attempted to lighten up the mood.
1
2
3
(Silence on my end. I always used to save the day in my favour and perhaps his. But I thought maybe if he did bite the bullet, it would be a merciful relief since my attempts at abstinence from the Old Boy has failed a number of times. Let someone do it to me instead so there would be no excuses. I wasn't about to chase after him to do the begging.)
Ok, goodbye, he said. Then he logged off.
I am sure he will deliver his promise and not speak again.
Well, c'est lah vie.
*****
The first time the Old Boy logged off on me, I recalled a distant memory of my dynamics with DL in the first couple of years we dated.
I gained an insight about my dynamics in my relationships.
DL and I used to quarrel like the above. Things I thought were trival like today and often, we had to trash it out and break it into parts as to why a conversation could go awry.
There were lots of frustration on both our ends. Mine was more hurt than anything else as I felt like a victim for overcaring someone but my intentions have been mis-intepreted.
Then DL would break it down for me and quizzed me hard until he arrived at a conclusion.
“Why the fuck do you always have to miss out on the steps?”
“I don't know. Because my mind has arrived at the conclusion before my words could take you through my intentions.”
So there laid the root of the miscommunication. Me, always ahead of myself and everyone else.
DL told me I got to take him through because he wasn't my brain and couldn't see the conclusion without seeing the thought process to lead me to my intentions.
So over the years, I tried to slow down but me being me, impatient, often heading for the destination and not the journey would still be a few steps faster to act or to speak my mind about my conclusions.
DL got used to me. I guess being in a long term relationship, we grew in sync. He had grown to trust what might sometimes to be my foresight of a situation. I have been big picture and he was process driven and in that sense, it complemented how we conducted our joint lives in decision-making. I
Perhaps, if I could so aptly sum up the dynamics between DL and myself, I was that smart alec with the assert approach which he hated to love but ironically, he grew reliant upon. For the most part, he ceased to question since his baby probably knew where she was heading for them and it would be a chore for her to have to be bogged down with going through those details of why. So therein lies his faith in me to decide for us and to believe I have every good intention in my often seemingly callous questions or comments.
Over the years,ironically I noted that DL was more concerned if I was not that callous and questioning P, that quality he initially abhorred which resulted in a lot of our eruptions but he had grown very fond of, simply because he knew it was my way to show that I cared.
*****
So today, it dawned on me that I have yet again taken a detail for granted.
Yeah, the Old Boy always said that I am demanding and asked too many questions. I think DL felt the same way too but then he stood the test I knew it was the way I cared.
They are both right- the Old Boy simply reminded me that I am hard to live with and bear as a person, especially as someone else's girlfriend. I almost forgot about that because DL got over that over the years and I am simply just familiar with the Old Boy as a friend and then a lover. So he already had insight to my character.
I am now single.
The notion of having to fine tune a person to be in sync of me will be arduous.
If the Old Boy who knows me so well cannot handle it leading to the break-down of this friendship, it will be tough with a new guy going forward.
It goes to show only true love, followed by faith could stand the test of one's idiosyncracies and lead to a certain mutual understanding.
Just before, the Old Boy cut me off online. I mean, for good.
I have incurred his wrath.
He vowed he would never speak to me again.
How our cyber argument escalated to arrive at this is almost comical.
Guess what? It was over a washing machine.
Perhaps, one would expect that our final parting shot would take off on a grander note.
Then again, we first met online so parting online we shall end.
Things must come full circle.
*****
This morning, the Old Boy mentioned that the household washing machine has broken down on him finally after eleven years. He would need a replacement.
Then we moved on to chat idly about other stuff.
Abruptly, he said he had to go. He needed to go buy a washing machine.
Why? I asked. I was aware of the time. It was only 10.30am on his end.
My mind was moving, thinking and churning at its usual lightning speed.
why so abrupt...10.30am...Not lunch time yet... he just got a new job... where is his boss... would he be getting into trouble for leaving...why the sudden hurry...
As usual, I skipped a few steps of rationalising my question to him.
Instead, I merely reiterated why and mentioned the time. Then I added that his maid could hand wash for the time being ( or not wash for a day) and added yeah (perhaps as assurance that it was ok without a day of washing) that even my mum handwashes most of the clothes except spin drying.
Then he got really mad and asked me why do I always asked him so many questions and why must his maid hand wash the clothes when she had to look after his two (precious) children and told me I am not his boss ok and he will go and buy his washing machine as and when he pleased.
The Old Boy told me at that point that he was really mad.
I said to him I was just concerned that he wouldn't get into trouble.
Stop it, stop it, stop it, he must be screaming on the other end.
Then he logged off on me.
*****
About 45 mins ago, he got back and logged on.
I'm back, he said.
Oh, you are back, I said.
He told me a little bit about his new washing machine and that was all good.
You are not angry anymore, I asked.
Guess not, he said.
Oh good.
I was boiling mad before with hot goose bumps rising that hurt me, he said.
Huh.
I get that when I am very angry, he said.
But why this angry? I was just concerned about your well-being and getting into trouble with the boss, I said.
Sometimes, you are so insensitive, he said.
I was just concerned about you, I said.
You should be more concerned about the washing machine, he said.
That's a dead object. I was worried about you to your boss. Or maybe your colleagues might tell on you for leaving work to do personal stuff, I said.
I am no. 2 in the office ok and I can say I am going out to do work stuff, he said.
Ok, I said.
Now apologise, he said.
I don't want to, I said.
And you said, you are not angry anymore, I added.
If you don't, I would NEVER speak to you again, he threatened.
I will count to 3, he said.
I am not your child. Hehehheheheeh, I said and attempted to lighten up the mood.
1
2
3
(Silence on my end. I always used to save the day in my favour and perhaps his. But I thought maybe if he did bite the bullet, it would be a merciful relief since my attempts at abstinence from the Old Boy has failed a number of times. Let someone do it to me instead so there would be no excuses. I wasn't about to chase after him to do the begging.)
Ok, goodbye, he said. Then he logged off.
I am sure he will deliver his promise and not speak again.
Well, c'est lah vie.
*****
The first time the Old Boy logged off on me, I recalled a distant memory of my dynamics with DL in the first couple of years we dated.
I gained an insight about my dynamics in my relationships.
DL and I used to quarrel like the above. Things I thought were trival like today and often, we had to trash it out and break it into parts as to why a conversation could go awry.
There were lots of frustration on both our ends. Mine was more hurt than anything else as I felt like a victim for overcaring someone but my intentions have been mis-intepreted.
Then DL would break it down for me and quizzed me hard until he arrived at a conclusion.
“Why the fuck do you always have to miss out on the steps?”
“I don't know. Because my mind has arrived at the conclusion before my words could take you through my intentions.”
So there laid the root of the miscommunication. Me, always ahead of myself and everyone else.
DL told me I got to take him through because he wasn't my brain and couldn't see the conclusion without seeing the thought process to lead me to my intentions.
So over the years, I tried to slow down but me being me, impatient, often heading for the destination and not the journey would still be a few steps faster to act or to speak my mind about my conclusions.
DL got used to me. I guess being in a long term relationship, we grew in sync. He had grown to trust what might sometimes to be my foresight of a situation. I have been big picture and he was process driven and in that sense, it complemented how we conducted our joint lives in decision-making. I
Perhaps, if I could so aptly sum up the dynamics between DL and myself, I was that smart alec with the assert approach which he hated to love but ironically, he grew reliant upon. For the most part, he ceased to question since his baby probably knew where she was heading for them and it would be a chore for her to have to be bogged down with going through those details of why. So therein lies his faith in me to decide for us and to believe I have every good intention in my often seemingly callous questions or comments.
Over the years,ironically I noted that DL was more concerned if I was not that callous and questioning P, that quality he initially abhorred which resulted in a lot of our eruptions but he had grown very fond of, simply because he knew it was my way to show that I cared.
*****
So today, it dawned on me that I have yet again taken a detail for granted.
Yeah, the Old Boy always said that I am demanding and asked too many questions. I think DL felt the same way too but then he stood the test I knew it was the way I cared.
They are both right- the Old Boy simply reminded me that I am hard to live with and bear as a person, especially as someone else's girlfriend. I almost forgot about that because DL got over that over the years and I am simply just familiar with the Old Boy as a friend and then a lover. So he already had insight to my character.
I am now single.
The notion of having to fine tune a person to be in sync of me will be arduous.
If the Old Boy who knows me so well cannot handle it leading to the break-down of this friendship, it will be tough with a new guy going forward.
It goes to show only true love, followed by faith could stand the test of one's idiosyncracies and lead to a certain mutual understanding.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Faithless
In my life experience, harbouring hopes and expectations have almost certainly been crushed by disappointments and heartaches. If you readers have followed the stories of P's life long enough, you would have noticed that recurring theme- a vicious cycle of errors which have compounded my pain. Somewhere along the way, I have gradually devised a subverted coping mechanism that instills my phobia to commit in a relationship which in turn transformed me into a cynic who pre-empts and becomes ahead of myself in a situation which later allows myself to justify why a situation has become fucked up. Smart alec, I am.
*****
I remember the night Dope and I first got hooked up where that began our more than a year long sporadic grey arrangement.
It was a cool October Friday night in Spring. Earlier, we had bumped into each other in Sydney. It has been years since we left university in Sad Town.
In our semi tipsy state post dinner at a bar, he asked me to guess what he always remembered me by. He had two incidents in mind-one was the first day we met (actually his first but not mine for I have noticed him way before he did with me) when we were twenty and the other was his witness of my unreal flexibility. Then he asked to kiss me and the rest was history. I spent the night at his apartment.
The next morning, we woke up. Dope asked me excitedly, “What are we now? Maybe we could do this again and go out on the weekends when I don't get too busy with work.”
I gave a non-committal reply about being what we currently were, at status quo. I had my DL (and wasn't about to leave him suddenly for anyone since I am one who is skeptical of falling “in love” too quickly) and I assumed he would continue with his girlfriend whom he dated a couple of months before I dated DL at university. At that stage, we were both dating our respective partners for a good five years or so. So sure, why not, as and when we didn't have our domestic commitments.
**
About two weeks ago, Dope and I had lunch. Finally. We had taken so many rainchecks that we passed 2007 not having met up with each other.
I learnt that the girl I bumped into him with in March hadn't been so new after all. They have been dating for a year.
So what happen to the old girl? They broke up, he said. One day, he broke up with her. He had grown tired of her weekly break up threats and tantrums.
Then he quietly mentioned that whilst we first got together, he was actually single.
Oh, I said. I didn't know-thought he was still dating her.
No, he said.
Why didn't you tell me, I asked.
Because you didn't ask me, came his reply.
So there, his next morning excitement made sense now. I have always hoarded the memory of that morning since I could never quite put a finger to that mismatched enthusiasm (which I was quick to reason within myself that it was a case of tipsiness or a state of hang over and nothing to take too seriously) with his later standoff-ishness sporadically peppered with restrained affection.
I thought we were both willing parties of polygamy. He would never have left the girl, let alone for me. I remember my role as a victim all too well. All my ex-boyfriends left me for another girl or worst still, back to the ex-girlfriend. Only DL left me for his six-year long relationship. As for myself, DL has always been the one constant in my life, plus my Fluffball and my entire bitter-sweet domestic bliss awaiting me in Sad Town whilst I struggled to do good in my career in Sydney. So best stick to the script I know so lucidly.
Best way to cope-affection and companionship since I didn't want to demand exclusivity. Maybe I was buying time to commit and along the way, I lost insight that polygamy wasn't the norm for people to live.
Once I lamented about us in a fit of frustration and tantrum as I wrote him. I remembered him firing back that those talk and ideas were “thriftily conceived” on my part.
So there, I got the full story a year and a half on. Again, our arrangement wasn't a situation he was inclined to adapt smoothly to but he did try alright and trudged on for fourteen months.
I just deceived myself myself there and cut any real shot at trying. I reasoned we were never meant to be- it was less fearful and perhaps more merciful to create romantically tragic endings to capture a hauntingly beautiful joint memory.
*****
“Hey, do yourself a favour. Find yourself a nice guy and commit into proper relationship when you get back to Australia. Even just for the time being before you return in July,” the Koran said as he left my room after our unfruitful and aborted attempt at shagging satisfactorily which ended us lying in bed chatting.
It was the wee hours of the morning on the night where I flew back to Australia in January. Shit was about to hit the fan with the Old Boy with irreversible consequences for what was to come (and has come).
“No way!”
“Why?”
“Because I just got out of a seven-year relationship and don't think I want to commit. I like the certainty of no future. Make merry and enjoy my life. That's precisely why I chose to be single.”
“You sound like a man.”
**
The Koran also once said something along the lines that that was the reason why I led the life I led (read messy) and certain men treated me a certain way (he probably meant my dynamics with the Old Boy and possibly taken granted by men. Me still viewed as somewhat a damsel in his closet Muslim eyes as women being the weaker sex. But I cannot be too sure now- my selective memory is truimphing over my alert photographic memory). He sounded serious and emphatically sad. Or was it frustrated?
*****
Today, the Old Boy and I had our usual msn chat.
Every so often, our conversation would lead us back to the past of our break-up. Read my initial infidelity with the Koran.
It started with us talking about my his huge uneasiness with my public display of affection for him. He is a married man and I haven't been sensitive to him.
The Old Boy culled up the day where I got upset with him in the car when I put my hand around his shoulder and I recalled messaging his neck. He had to put a stop to it and told me he was uncomfortable and please don't do it in public.
I was hurt and upset there and then, not because of his remark about my actions in the car.
He has been attributing my silent treatment for him that day to this incident. But he has been so wrong.
**
I had been mindful for awhile now and have tried practising restraint. But his call for affectionate restraint in the car triggered my memory of the night before where the Koran and the rest of my male friends congregated at the whiskey bar where the Old Boy and I frequented. My entourage and I were heading off to boogie the night away. At this stage, the Old Boy has already learnt that Koran and I have kissed one tipsy night. Naturally, the Old Boy was not pleased.
But then again, you may call me naïve. Again, the Old Boy has drummed in me that we were never exclusive; he was more polygamous than I was. I reckon a single and independent girl like me should be able to handle it and take it like a man(?). I did love him enough and thought we would stick to the script of non-exclusivity. I wasn't about to go man hunting but if the opportunity arises, so be it. Even then, I was mindful of incurring the pain and wrath of the Old Boy.
My friends gathered at the table in the bar where the Old Boy and I were seated. The Old Boy was not pleased to see the Koran (given that OB knew about the pashings). I made every attempt to assure the Old Boy that he was still my man (noting his insecurities) and me his girl and hung on close to him and held his hand or wrapped my arms around him (making one big exception to OB's no-PDA rule more to dispel any paranoia he had of the Koran and me when I headed off to party and him home to his domestics). At some stage, I excused myself to the bathroom and when I got back, the Old Boy pulled me to him and french kissed me before my friends. I was taken aback by his boldness (since he always had issues being THE married man) and the first thing that came to my mind was that he had deliberately done it to assert his territory over me before the guys, especially before the Koran.
“Baby, did u do that on purpose?” I looked him in the eyes when my tongue and lips parted his as I spoke in hushed tones. I was careful not to get happy too quickly much as my heart was yielding.
The Old Boy attempted to look vague and mumbled something non-committal.
I was getting hurt and felt my suspicions for my worst fear was fconfirmed with this reply. It has been further culminated by his growing lacklustre behaviour towards me (and his growing lack of affection in bed) and his weaning enthusiasm to meet up with me prior to his departure for work in the Middle East, of which I would have been gone by the time he returned back to Singapore. His squash practise was to take precedence, he told me firmly once no matter how gently I persuaded (or rather my way of begging) him.
Then there was also our last night together where he made a comment and I retorted whineyly that yeah, that was because he had now got me so he wasn't putting so much effort. And he laughed and replied yeah. My heart squeezed for that moment. Didn't think that felt like a favourable parting shot.
I wasn't going to let the Old Boy toy with me as he pleased.
***
So there, I thought it was double standards on his part when he finally tried to jump the brakes to cut off my display of affection in the care.
I thought the night before, he had given me the cue to continue my old affectionate ways that I have been used to with guys when he proffered his publicly to me.
***
“So you did him to spite me?”
“No, I didn't. I didn't think you care.”
“Yeah right.”
“ Yes, so I didn't think my actions was accountable to anyone or of any consequence with you so I could allow it to happen. If I screw up then, I didn't think the harm was done on anyone but me. It was that simple.”
“Whatever.”
We have had this conversation many a time before shortly after this incident erupted and he would flagrantly decribed how much I have hurt him and broke his heart during those times.
The Old Boy would later confessed he didn't see anyone whilst I was back home. He was true to me.
*****
I don't know anymore.
Faithless.
Pre-emptive worst-case-scenario coping mechanism.
That's what I must have grow accustomed to.
Somewhere along the way, I have lost the plot.
I thought I was the victim. Or am I the victimiser now?
In my life experience, harbouring hopes and expectations have almost certainly been crushed by disappointments and heartaches. If you readers have followed the stories of P's life long enough, you would have noticed that recurring theme- a vicious cycle of errors which have compounded my pain. Somewhere along the way, I have gradually devised a subverted coping mechanism that instills my phobia to commit in a relationship which in turn transformed me into a cynic who pre-empts and becomes ahead of myself in a situation which later allows myself to justify why a situation has become fucked up. Smart alec, I am.
*****
I remember the night Dope and I first got hooked up where that began our more than a year long sporadic grey arrangement.
It was a cool October Friday night in Spring. Earlier, we had bumped into each other in Sydney. It has been years since we left university in Sad Town.
In our semi tipsy state post dinner at a bar, he asked me to guess what he always remembered me by. He had two incidents in mind-one was the first day we met (actually his first but not mine for I have noticed him way before he did with me) when we were twenty and the other was his witness of my unreal flexibility. Then he asked to kiss me and the rest was history. I spent the night at his apartment.
The next morning, we woke up. Dope asked me excitedly, “What are we now? Maybe we could do this again and go out on the weekends when I don't get too busy with work.”
I gave a non-committal reply about being what we currently were, at status quo. I had my DL (and wasn't about to leave him suddenly for anyone since I am one who is skeptical of falling “in love” too quickly) and I assumed he would continue with his girlfriend whom he dated a couple of months before I dated DL at university. At that stage, we were both dating our respective partners for a good five years or so. So sure, why not, as and when we didn't have our domestic commitments.
**
About two weeks ago, Dope and I had lunch. Finally. We had taken so many rainchecks that we passed 2007 not having met up with each other.
I learnt that the girl I bumped into him with in March hadn't been so new after all. They have been dating for a year.
So what happen to the old girl? They broke up, he said. One day, he broke up with her. He had grown tired of her weekly break up threats and tantrums.
Then he quietly mentioned that whilst we first got together, he was actually single.
Oh, I said. I didn't know-thought he was still dating her.
No, he said.
Why didn't you tell me, I asked.
Because you didn't ask me, came his reply.
So there, his next morning excitement made sense now. I have always hoarded the memory of that morning since I could never quite put a finger to that mismatched enthusiasm (which I was quick to reason within myself that it was a case of tipsiness or a state of hang over and nothing to take too seriously) with his later standoff-ishness sporadically peppered with restrained affection.
I thought we were both willing parties of polygamy. He would never have left the girl, let alone for me. I remember my role as a victim all too well. All my ex-boyfriends left me for another girl or worst still, back to the ex-girlfriend. Only DL left me for his six-year long relationship. As for myself, DL has always been the one constant in my life, plus my Fluffball and my entire bitter-sweet domestic bliss awaiting me in Sad Town whilst I struggled to do good in my career in Sydney. So best stick to the script I know so lucidly.
Best way to cope-affection and companionship since I didn't want to demand exclusivity. Maybe I was buying time to commit and along the way, I lost insight that polygamy wasn't the norm for people to live.
Once I lamented about us in a fit of frustration and tantrum as I wrote him. I remembered him firing back that those talk and ideas were “thriftily conceived” on my part.
So there, I got the full story a year and a half on. Again, our arrangement wasn't a situation he was inclined to adapt smoothly to but he did try alright and trudged on for fourteen months.
I just deceived myself myself there and cut any real shot at trying. I reasoned we were never meant to be- it was less fearful and perhaps more merciful to create romantically tragic endings to capture a hauntingly beautiful joint memory.
*****
“Hey, do yourself a favour. Find yourself a nice guy and commit into proper relationship when you get back to Australia. Even just for the time being before you return in July,” the Koran said as he left my room after our unfruitful and aborted attempt at shagging satisfactorily which ended us lying in bed chatting.
It was the wee hours of the morning on the night where I flew back to Australia in January. Shit was about to hit the fan with the Old Boy with irreversible consequences for what was to come (and has come).
“No way!”
“Why?”
“Because I just got out of a seven-year relationship and don't think I want to commit. I like the certainty of no future. Make merry and enjoy my life. That's precisely why I chose to be single.”
“You sound like a man.”
**
The Koran also once said something along the lines that that was the reason why I led the life I led (read messy) and certain men treated me a certain way (he probably meant my dynamics with the Old Boy and possibly taken granted by men. Me still viewed as somewhat a damsel in his closet Muslim eyes as women being the weaker sex. But I cannot be too sure now- my selective memory is truimphing over my alert photographic memory). He sounded serious and emphatically sad. Or was it frustrated?
*****
Today, the Old Boy and I had our usual msn chat.
Every so often, our conversation would lead us back to the past of our break-up. Read my initial infidelity with the Koran.
It started with us talking about my his huge uneasiness with my public display of affection for him. He is a married man and I haven't been sensitive to him.
The Old Boy culled up the day where I got upset with him in the car when I put my hand around his shoulder and I recalled messaging his neck. He had to put a stop to it and told me he was uncomfortable and please don't do it in public.
I was hurt and upset there and then, not because of his remark about my actions in the car.
He has been attributing my silent treatment for him that day to this incident. But he has been so wrong.
**
I had been mindful for awhile now and have tried practising restraint. But his call for affectionate restraint in the car triggered my memory of the night before where the Koran and the rest of my male friends congregated at the whiskey bar where the Old Boy and I frequented. My entourage and I were heading off to boogie the night away. At this stage, the Old Boy has already learnt that Koran and I have kissed one tipsy night. Naturally, the Old Boy was not pleased.
But then again, you may call me naïve. Again, the Old Boy has drummed in me that we were never exclusive; he was more polygamous than I was. I reckon a single and independent girl like me should be able to handle it and take it like a man(?). I did love him enough and thought we would stick to the script of non-exclusivity. I wasn't about to go man hunting but if the opportunity arises, so be it. Even then, I was mindful of incurring the pain and wrath of the Old Boy.
My friends gathered at the table in the bar where the Old Boy and I were seated. The Old Boy was not pleased to see the Koran (given that OB knew about the pashings). I made every attempt to assure the Old Boy that he was still my man (noting his insecurities) and me his girl and hung on close to him and held his hand or wrapped my arms around him (making one big exception to OB's no-PDA rule more to dispel any paranoia he had of the Koran and me when I headed off to party and him home to his domestics). At some stage, I excused myself to the bathroom and when I got back, the Old Boy pulled me to him and french kissed me before my friends. I was taken aback by his boldness (since he always had issues being THE married man) and the first thing that came to my mind was that he had deliberately done it to assert his territory over me before the guys, especially before the Koran.
“Baby, did u do that on purpose?” I looked him in the eyes when my tongue and lips parted his as I spoke in hushed tones. I was careful not to get happy too quickly much as my heart was yielding.
The Old Boy attempted to look vague and mumbled something non-committal.
I was getting hurt and felt my suspicions for my worst fear was fconfirmed with this reply. It has been further culminated by his growing lacklustre behaviour towards me (and his growing lack of affection in bed) and his weaning enthusiasm to meet up with me prior to his departure for work in the Middle East, of which I would have been gone by the time he returned back to Singapore. His squash practise was to take precedence, he told me firmly once no matter how gently I persuaded (or rather my way of begging) him.
Then there was also our last night together where he made a comment and I retorted whineyly that yeah, that was because he had now got me so he wasn't putting so much effort. And he laughed and replied yeah. My heart squeezed for that moment. Didn't think that felt like a favourable parting shot.
I wasn't going to let the Old Boy toy with me as he pleased.
***
So there, I thought it was double standards on his part when he finally tried to jump the brakes to cut off my display of affection in the care.
I thought the night before, he had given me the cue to continue my old affectionate ways that I have been used to with guys when he proffered his publicly to me.
***
“So you did him to spite me?”
“No, I didn't. I didn't think you care.”
“Yeah right.”
“ Yes, so I didn't think my actions was accountable to anyone or of any consequence with you so I could allow it to happen. If I screw up then, I didn't think the harm was done on anyone but me. It was that simple.”
“Whatever.”
We have had this conversation many a time before shortly after this incident erupted and he would flagrantly decribed how much I have hurt him and broke his heart during those times.
The Old Boy would later confessed he didn't see anyone whilst I was back home. He was true to me.
*****
I don't know anymore.
Faithless.
Pre-emptive worst-case-scenario coping mechanism.
That's what I must have grow accustomed to.
Somewhere along the way, I have lost the plot.
I thought I was the victim. Or am I the victimiser now?
Labels: THE P-oignant Moments
Monday, May 26, 2008
Freedom
My new found freedom is something I need getting used to.
I have so many things to do I don't know where to start. Well, at least I have the luxury of time for once.
I spent my first day being a couch potato and a pig. I have months of laundry awaiting and all I did was dumped my undergarments in the washing machine that came up to half a basket full. You probably know by now that I am untidy and tardy as well. When I run out of normal panties to wear and need to turn to my g-strings and thongs which I seldom don since I never quite got over having a wedgie on a normal day, I know its a wake up call I do something about washing my underwear! You must know I have lots of it given that I have traditionally replaced my domestic laziness with retail therapy!
Again, old habits die hard. I had a late start and work up past ten o'clock. My day began with me turning on my laptop. Then I waited for V and the Old Boy to come online. So any plans to go to the gym, grocery shopping, clean up the house and properly plan my trip was temporarily shelved. I surfed the Internet mindlessly, added friends and ex-colleagues onto Facebook and basically whiled my entire day chatting with the Old Boy and sporadically with V between periods where she was home.
My mind wandered to the notion of habits. I haven't really any bad vices of sorts like smoking, habitual alcohol consumption or drugs but was beginning to gain an insight to the fact that humans are indeed habitual creatures for the most part. I found myself doing what I am wont to do without fail at home, even previously when I return from a tired day's work, I never missed switching on my laptop to go onto the Internet even if I had spent a good part of my day in the office surfing the net and chatting with my friends. I noted the weakness of my past resolutions- how I had all these grand plans of heading to the beaches, go to the gym, tidy up the house, read all the books I never had time to and all my planning prior to homecoming- they have simply gone down the drain today! No wonder people with addictions have quitting problems.
In between periods of no communication with my online companions as the Old Boy went for his first ciggie break and V was nowhere in sight, I sat on my couch and stared blankly into the sunny sky. It was a beautiful day on a late morning-the possibilities outdoor would have been infinite. Instead of carpe diem, I stared forlornly into the sky, a tsunami of thoughts assaulting my mind (as the cluttering of my mind has portentously programmed for it to happen) and the uncertain journey that lies ahead my life. I became aware that tears were streaming down my eyes.
I wiped my tears as quickly as they streamed down my cheeks. I quietly assured myself that things would change for the better. It was only the first day and I could slowly grow to be at peace, not always needing to keep myself busy and unclutter-the meditation in August would help. I just needed getting used to the notion of my new found freedom-of course, the mental struggle of clinging on to my past, my habits would naturally be so convenient. No, there is a better way to live- I would get there, just need so time to unclutter , loosen my grip and let go of some tightly held habits along the way... Mind over matter.
It has been a strange past one week for me. It has just dawned on me, like a form of enlightenment that life could be elsewhere- I could live without fear, anxiety and pain. In fact, it isn't normal for one to live like this. I always knew I haven't been well but I thought many people have a similar problem too. Maybe I did lose the plot somewhere along the way in my quest for victory in my life. I got myself really down and have surrounded myself with people who failed to inspire or add value to my well-being, especially in my work environment.
They still didn't get it-thinking I left because I have a passion for fashion and not because there was fundamentally wrong about my environment with them, my team. A close colleague and friend from another team mentioned that she never saw me smiled so hard at the farewell party. It was a part of me she has never saw. She didn't think I was so capable of looking this happy.
It made me think-yes, that shouldn't be the case.
Then there is my heart. I need to get out of my rut.
Today, I said to the Old Boy I couldn't be any happier not having to work and I have no more excuse to be unhappy. So I flagged at him to please do my a favour by not upsetting me with any of his words and I should be rocking.
To end our day, he did upset me, as usual. An innocent remark or question to re-focus our now “platonic friendship” and talk about happy, harmless plans would always be twisted to dig up and remind me of some past. I should never trust myself to be in contact with him.
I have grown sick and tired of myself to allow me to get affected and have given up confiding in anyone since I think by now V has tire from hearing about my self-inflicted masochistic stupidity and I would know the harsh prescription of her remedy. She is so right. I am just plain stupid.
Yeah, so I am still working on my emotional state of achieving peace, waiting for that emotional circuit breaker. I pray that the meditation will eventually help. I need to live life again and look for that “alpha” I do believe I will find to bring that spark to my being once more.
My new found freedom is something I need getting used to.
I have so many things to do I don't know where to start. Well, at least I have the luxury of time for once.
I spent my first day being a couch potato and a pig. I have months of laundry awaiting and all I did was dumped my undergarments in the washing machine that came up to half a basket full. You probably know by now that I am untidy and tardy as well. When I run out of normal panties to wear and need to turn to my g-strings and thongs which I seldom don since I never quite got over having a wedgie on a normal day, I know its a wake up call I do something about washing my underwear! You must know I have lots of it given that I have traditionally replaced my domestic laziness with retail therapy!
Again, old habits die hard. I had a late start and work up past ten o'clock. My day began with me turning on my laptop. Then I waited for V and the Old Boy to come online. So any plans to go to the gym, grocery shopping, clean up the house and properly plan my trip was temporarily shelved. I surfed the Internet mindlessly, added friends and ex-colleagues onto Facebook and basically whiled my entire day chatting with the Old Boy and sporadically with V between periods where she was home.
My mind wandered to the notion of habits. I haven't really any bad vices of sorts like smoking, habitual alcohol consumption or drugs but was beginning to gain an insight to the fact that humans are indeed habitual creatures for the most part. I found myself doing what I am wont to do without fail at home, even previously when I return from a tired day's work, I never missed switching on my laptop to go onto the Internet even if I had spent a good part of my day in the office surfing the net and chatting with my friends. I noted the weakness of my past resolutions- how I had all these grand plans of heading to the beaches, go to the gym, tidy up the house, read all the books I never had time to and all my planning prior to homecoming- they have simply gone down the drain today! No wonder people with addictions have quitting problems.
In between periods of no communication with my online companions as the Old Boy went for his first ciggie break and V was nowhere in sight, I sat on my couch and stared blankly into the sunny sky. It was a beautiful day on a late morning-the possibilities outdoor would have been infinite. Instead of carpe diem, I stared forlornly into the sky, a tsunami of thoughts assaulting my mind (as the cluttering of my mind has portentously programmed for it to happen) and the uncertain journey that lies ahead my life. I became aware that tears were streaming down my eyes.
I wiped my tears as quickly as they streamed down my cheeks. I quietly assured myself that things would change for the better. It was only the first day and I could slowly grow to be at peace, not always needing to keep myself busy and unclutter-the meditation in August would help. I just needed getting used to the notion of my new found freedom-of course, the mental struggle of clinging on to my past, my habits would naturally be so convenient. No, there is a better way to live- I would get there, just need so time to unclutter , loosen my grip and let go of some tightly held habits along the way... Mind over matter.
It has been a strange past one week for me. It has just dawned on me, like a form of enlightenment that life could be elsewhere- I could live without fear, anxiety and pain. In fact, it isn't normal for one to live like this. I always knew I haven't been well but I thought many people have a similar problem too. Maybe I did lose the plot somewhere along the way in my quest for victory in my life. I got myself really down and have surrounded myself with people who failed to inspire or add value to my well-being, especially in my work environment.
They still didn't get it-thinking I left because I have a passion for fashion and not because there was fundamentally wrong about my environment with them, my team. A close colleague and friend from another team mentioned that she never saw me smiled so hard at the farewell party. It was a part of me she has never saw. She didn't think I was so capable of looking this happy.
It made me think-yes, that shouldn't be the case.
Then there is my heart. I need to get out of my rut.
Today, I said to the Old Boy I couldn't be any happier not having to work and I have no more excuse to be unhappy. So I flagged at him to please do my a favour by not upsetting me with any of his words and I should be rocking.
To end our day, he did upset me, as usual. An innocent remark or question to re-focus our now “platonic friendship” and talk about happy, harmless plans would always be twisted to dig up and remind me of some past. I should never trust myself to be in contact with him.
I have grown sick and tired of myself to allow me to get affected and have given up confiding in anyone since I think by now V has tire from hearing about my self-inflicted masochistic stupidity and I would know the harsh prescription of her remedy. She is so right. I am just plain stupid.
Yeah, so I am still working on my emotional state of achieving peace, waiting for that emotional circuit breaker. I pray that the meditation will eventually help. I need to live life again and look for that “alpha” I do believe I will find to bring that spark to my being once more.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A Breath of Fresh Air
So I finally bit the bullet.
I handed in my notice on Thursday and requested Friday be my last day.
The official reason to the outer world (as opposed to inner circle of certain members of the team of authorities) was that I was returning home to Singapore and travelling onwards to an exotic land in Asia to do some meditation.
When the internal announcement was made, the colleagues on the upper level went quiet.
Then came a flood of personal emails into my inbox by colleagues from around the world; some senior partners included.
I got a Tiffany & Co passport holder from the team as a farewell gift.
Then came the farewell drinks, the turnout was heaps more than usual-it wasn't even the designated week for the fortnightly Friday night boardroom drinks.
The boss made a speech and then I made one.
Then more drinks out of work ensued post the boardroom and continued at a nearby bar.
More tales were exchanged, more dirt I got but also people in the right places trying to get me back into the office.
A colleague wrote to say he was so sorry and sad to hear me leave. And then there were more. I received two bunches of flowers from close colleagues of mine.
There was also the Accountant who went a long way back with me at work. He's like my best friend. I often call him “Big Brother” in his national language-he's the same age as the Old Boy. We had many a drunken night hanging out together. He has an unhappy marriage though the wife is an absolutely lovely lady. One Christmas, they invited DL and I to their house.
In his tipsy state, he told me he was so sad that I was leaving. I laughed and said me too but I am not dead for god's sake as everyone went about moaning oh P, you are leaving. He said in a slight agitated and growing emphatic tone that he felt that I would be dead to him since I am leaving this country for good and that he felt something those times we hung out till the wee hours of the morning. Then he said on the night when the announcement was made, he laid in bed and cried.
The Accountant and I have been best of friends- he normally gets the dirt about the displeasure of my working conditions and then more about the sadness of my relationship with DL.
It felt weird, those confessions. A couple of times during our previous nights out, he would kiss me on my cheek. But I would like to think nothing of it-just him being his tipsy self.
He has always been a good friend- one night I got hung over and went home and he carried on alone as he is wont to do. The next day, we both didn't turn up for work and the boss rang him and said she would have a word with me too when I returned. Instead, he was quick to jump to my defence and said I left early as I was feeling unwell so there was nothing wrong and covered my ass.
Then there was also the time where he sacrificed a portion of his bonus in that pool to top up my bonuses. I have always been ever so grateful.
It's strange-almost overwhelming that night that I left on good enough terms. There was lots of goodwill around. I must feel heartened.
*****
It's strange tomorrow, not having to wake up to work.
I am having pre-Monday blues of the pleasant kind-not knowing where to start with the day ahead of me.
I better start getting used to it since I don't envision myself working for at least the next 3-4 months ahead. Even up to six months.
I look forward to returning home. I don't know if I would head onwards eventually or station myself there. But I think I am done with Australia- the land, the environment. I don't know about DL and the Fluffball-they are still ever so dear to my heart.
*****
The other day, I said to V that I quite fancy having a “normal” life again.
I have been in Australia for almost a decade now. Can you believe it-I have never been to the movies with anyone except for DL and the older sibling? I have never really been out with anyone to party on a weekend like what my gregarious nature is wont to do here since moving to this big city.
When I do return home in Singapore, I get partied out and would missed out on what Asians do as a national pastime in the day-window shopping on the weekend and having high tea or even weekend lunches or dinners with girlfriends. I quite fancy installing some normality in my life and see if I could adapt to that Singaporean way of leaving that I thought I left behind many moons ago.
I feel I am regressing but in a good way.
I've never had that luxury to take a sabbatical without worrying about money. For once, I do.
I recall the good part of my twenty-something years old struggling financially, working the restaurants and even washing dishes. Those days are gone, thank goodness. I seem to miss out on some fun like my peers do back home but ah well, such is life.
It's strange waking up tomorrow and thinking where should I start and what do I do?
But it feels like a fresh breath of air-I feel almost bold again and know that tomorrow on a Monday, I would not wake up like how I typically would. I would look forward to waking up early and not bury my head in the pillow and feel that sunken feeling in my heart once more.
Those last ten years have been a long March. But I am beginning to feel that I could see the light at the end of the tunnel soon.
So I finally bit the bullet.
I handed in my notice on Thursday and requested Friday be my last day.
The official reason to the outer world (as opposed to inner circle of certain members of the team of authorities) was that I was returning home to Singapore and travelling onwards to an exotic land in Asia to do some meditation.
When the internal announcement was made, the colleagues on the upper level went quiet.
Then came a flood of personal emails into my inbox by colleagues from around the world; some senior partners included.
I got a Tiffany & Co passport holder from the team as a farewell gift.
Then came the farewell drinks, the turnout was heaps more than usual-it wasn't even the designated week for the fortnightly Friday night boardroom drinks.
The boss made a speech and then I made one.
Then more drinks out of work ensued post the boardroom and continued at a nearby bar.
More tales were exchanged, more dirt I got but also people in the right places trying to get me back into the office.
A colleague wrote to say he was so sorry and sad to hear me leave. And then there were more. I received two bunches of flowers from close colleagues of mine.
There was also the Accountant who went a long way back with me at work. He's like my best friend. I often call him “Big Brother” in his national language-he's the same age as the Old Boy. We had many a drunken night hanging out together. He has an unhappy marriage though the wife is an absolutely lovely lady. One Christmas, they invited DL and I to their house.
In his tipsy state, he told me he was so sad that I was leaving. I laughed and said me too but I am not dead for god's sake as everyone went about moaning oh P, you are leaving. He said in a slight agitated and growing emphatic tone that he felt that I would be dead to him since I am leaving this country for good and that he felt something those times we hung out till the wee hours of the morning. Then he said on the night when the announcement was made, he laid in bed and cried.
The Accountant and I have been best of friends- he normally gets the dirt about the displeasure of my working conditions and then more about the sadness of my relationship with DL.
It felt weird, those confessions. A couple of times during our previous nights out, he would kiss me on my cheek. But I would like to think nothing of it-just him being his tipsy self.
He has always been a good friend- one night I got hung over and went home and he carried on alone as he is wont to do. The next day, we both didn't turn up for work and the boss rang him and said she would have a word with me too when I returned. Instead, he was quick to jump to my defence and said I left early as I was feeling unwell so there was nothing wrong and covered my ass.
Then there was also the time where he sacrificed a portion of his bonus in that pool to top up my bonuses. I have always been ever so grateful.
It's strange-almost overwhelming that night that I left on good enough terms. There was lots of goodwill around. I must feel heartened.
*****
It's strange tomorrow, not having to wake up to work.
I am having pre-Monday blues of the pleasant kind-not knowing where to start with the day ahead of me.
I better start getting used to it since I don't envision myself working for at least the next 3-4 months ahead. Even up to six months.
I look forward to returning home. I don't know if I would head onwards eventually or station myself there. But I think I am done with Australia- the land, the environment. I don't know about DL and the Fluffball-they are still ever so dear to my heart.
*****
The other day, I said to V that I quite fancy having a “normal” life again.
I have been in Australia for almost a decade now. Can you believe it-I have never been to the movies with anyone except for DL and the older sibling? I have never really been out with anyone to party on a weekend like what my gregarious nature is wont to do here since moving to this big city.
When I do return home in Singapore, I get partied out and would missed out on what Asians do as a national pastime in the day-window shopping on the weekend and having high tea or even weekend lunches or dinners with girlfriends. I quite fancy installing some normality in my life and see if I could adapt to that Singaporean way of leaving that I thought I left behind many moons ago.
I feel I am regressing but in a good way.
I've never had that luxury to take a sabbatical without worrying about money. For once, I do.
I recall the good part of my twenty-something years old struggling financially, working the restaurants and even washing dishes. Those days are gone, thank goodness. I seem to miss out on some fun like my peers do back home but ah well, such is life.
It's strange waking up tomorrow and thinking where should I start and what do I do?
But it feels like a fresh breath of air-I feel almost bold again and know that tomorrow on a Monday, I would not wake up like how I typically would. I would look forward to waking up early and not bury my head in the pillow and feel that sunken feeling in my heart once more.
Those last ten years have been a long March. But I am beginning to feel that I could see the light at the end of the tunnel soon.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Junkie
"...she went back there to dry out because we figured it would be too tempting to fuck up if we tried to do it together. It was her first habit, so she probably just needed a week at a friend's place with some good food and a truck or two of pills."
-Candy, Luke Davies
*****
There are days where I just don't get it about myself and my dysfunctional coping mechanism. For a long while now, I have stopped being a masochist to my own emotional health and thought I have successfully contained that unhealthy habit of prodding on healing scars, only to re-open and re-visit old wounds and inflicting pain that has a debilitating effect of getting me in one fell sweep. When that happens, I often get engulfed and spiraled into that turmoil of pain and depression. Like one who has taken mind altering substances, my nerves is suspended thinly like the stem of a pendulum bob that swings from one extreme mood of anxiety to another state of delirium. I can get quite manic sometimes. I scare myself there.
*****
I suggest you stay away from the Old Boy. His life seems very messy, someone told me the other day.
Strangely it came from a someone who might well have had the very same intention of the Old boy to acquaint himself deeper into the reel and real life of P.
I thought it was ironic but then again, I observed with slight detachment that it is what it is-people do like dishing advice to people who seem in need of help, sometimes out of good intentions but sometimes simply to seek that "feel good" factor of a purposeful existence.
*****
I have been pleaded by the best friend, V to stop doing what I am doing to myself.
Block the Old Boy on msn and cut him out of your life. Period.
Don't think or rationalise, which V finds me very fond of doing. And so is the consensus from my friends.
*****
I wished I did bite that bullet hard that day and stuck to my guns.
I knew it was a lost cause with the Old Boy the second time I was back home in March.
He had promised to spend that entire Monday with me and we went out shopping.
My time is short as usual and I wanted to close in on some intimate time. I spotted his reluctance and he even suggested us having dinner with another emotionally troubled friend that I got a sense was his way of using her as a time buffer of having to spend time alone with me.
That subtle rejection was causing me way too much pain. I wished he had outrightly decided before my return that we should no longer meet. His proposed plan to set time aside for me the entire day but no intimacy was like dangling me a carrot for a tease. My ego still finds that too hard to bear.
In life, I learnt that there is no such thing as staying close as friends after you enjoy a great intimate fuck. Especially when you feel you have given your heart and soul to that person.
So there I was sulking and being in a growly mood, half the time giving him the cold shoulder or terse answers to questions. I was totally losing it.
At Paragon Mall, we got seated at a cafe and I quickly excused myself to the ladies.
I rang my best friend and told her that I knew our relationship was a lost cause and his subtle rejections of wanting to spend any private intimate time with me was itself THE answer to the fears at the back of my mind. I was crying and in pain.
As level-headed as best friends are wont to be in such situations, V angrily drummed the idea and then calmly decided that I should just walk away. Don't waste precious time in my short weekend trip back home because the Old Boy has already stated that he didn't want to have anything to do with me carnally. He had told her two nights before at my homecoming party to please talk some sense into me. V served me the verdict hard and loud and right there and then in the toilet, I felt sick in the stomach and told her I didn't know what to do with myself. I held on to the little table underneath the vanity mirror for support and thought I could just die there from a broken heart. I was an emotional wreck and didn't know what else to do.
Walk away and leave, she insisted. I couldn't, I couldn't, I sobbed.
You got to, she persisted. Listen, stop doing this to yourself. He is trouble.
Then came the text from the Old Boy, "Baby, are you alright?"
I had to re-composed myself fast and wait for the redness of my tear stained face to calm down before I readied myself. My heart was constricted in pain and I psyched myself hard before I left the ladies.
I would get back to the cafe, finish up my drink and then I would excuse myself to leave. That forward scenario projection was already heart breaking enough but I knew I had to execute it. Heck the aftermath of busting into a dam of tears, possibly in yet another toilet at the nearby hotel. I had to do the right thing by me.
But as plans do, they often fail.
At that instance, I was glad it did.
When we got up finally to leave the cafe given that I was not letting up my cold war with the Old Boy and focusing real hard to do what I needed to do for me, he asked me where we wanted to go next.
Short in tone I went, "Don't know." At the back of my mind, I was deliberating how best to tell him I was leaving. I walked ahead of him quickly.
The Old Boy got ahead of me on the escalators and turned to face me.
"Want to go to suburb XYZ?"
That was music to my ears. It was that secret code to Hotel 81 where we shared many a romp.
I was appeased instantly. My pout turned into a smile and I threw my arms around his neck and we kissed.
"See? That does it." He smiled.
The Old Boy saved the day. I was relieved for that moment. One part of my rationalising mind knew that the win was only short-lived. After all, the Old Boy has always been the weaker character bound to give in to quickly quell a situation for the short-term without persevering with the hard course to achieve longer term goals. If I had to sulk my way for him to want me, this whole deal was not looking great.
*****
That was the last day we ever got intimate again.
It was that same fateful day that I professed those 3 magic words to the Old Boy.
I should have walked away and stick to my course.
As the Chinese saying goes,"To get rid of the grass, once need to weed out the roots." This, really translates into severing all ties.
Harsh and painful but perhaps that's what I needed.
*****
The Old Boy continues to make his presence felt in my life.
Like a drug addict, I am wont to linger.
Some days I grow numb but other days, his words provoked me to pain. I get thrown so off balance by the slightest ripple, I know I am hardly an emotional gymnast so I shouldn't even have taken up the challenge in the first place.
Cold turkey as you know is the only way to wean off all bad habits, piecemeal does nothing really. On occasions, I feel resolute and invincible for days as reforming junkies do; and other days I fall real bad.
My mind still holds onto a final question I have never asked where the question marks hover like my own shadow which I could never shake off.
My problem is my inquisitiveness mind, always wanting to know.
Haven't I already know the answer?
The truth hurts but it may well serve as the hammer that deals the final blow to nail the coffin. I probably need that affirmation or rather, confirmation loud and clear.
Closure- right now, the ringing aura of finality to the word still daunts me. I feel the perpetual constriction of my heart dealing me a long and numbingly painful death. My coping mechanism continues to operate in that masochistic, slow and for-the-journey-esque piecemeal approach to get me through the day to day.
******
"As long as I stop by Tuesday night, then I should be half-OK by Friday night, I reasoned to myself.
By Tuesday I decided I might as well just keep using, get the crop planted, then go to a proper detox (which was the original plan) next week (which wasn't). I decided I would have a big hit just before we left early Saturday morning, and leave my dope at Mason's house, and white-knuckle it for twenty-four hours as a test of strength.
...So it was business as usual Wednesday and Thursday and Friday."
-Candy, Luke Davies
"...she went back there to dry out because we figured it would be too tempting to fuck up if we tried to do it together. It was her first habit, so she probably just needed a week at a friend's place with some good food and a truck or two of pills."
-Candy, Luke Davies
*****
There are days where I just don't get it about myself and my dysfunctional coping mechanism. For a long while now, I have stopped being a masochist to my own emotional health and thought I have successfully contained that unhealthy habit of prodding on healing scars, only to re-open and re-visit old wounds and inflicting pain that has a debilitating effect of getting me in one fell sweep. When that happens, I often get engulfed and spiraled into that turmoil of pain and depression. Like one who has taken mind altering substances, my nerves is suspended thinly like the stem of a pendulum bob that swings from one extreme mood of anxiety to another state of delirium. I can get quite manic sometimes. I scare myself there.
*****
I suggest you stay away from the Old Boy. His life seems very messy, someone told me the other day.
Strangely it came from a someone who might well have had the very same intention of the Old boy to acquaint himself deeper into the reel and real life of P.
I thought it was ironic but then again, I observed with slight detachment that it is what it is-people do like dishing advice to people who seem in need of help, sometimes out of good intentions but sometimes simply to seek that "feel good" factor of a purposeful existence.
*****
I have been pleaded by the best friend, V to stop doing what I am doing to myself.
Block the Old Boy on msn and cut him out of your life. Period.
Don't think or rationalise, which V finds me very fond of doing. And so is the consensus from my friends.
*****
I wished I did bite that bullet hard that day and stuck to my guns.
I knew it was a lost cause with the Old Boy the second time I was back home in March.
He had promised to spend that entire Monday with me and we went out shopping.
My time is short as usual and I wanted to close in on some intimate time. I spotted his reluctance and he even suggested us having dinner with another emotionally troubled friend that I got a sense was his way of using her as a time buffer of having to spend time alone with me.
That subtle rejection was causing me way too much pain. I wished he had outrightly decided before my return that we should no longer meet. His proposed plan to set time aside for me the entire day but no intimacy was like dangling me a carrot for a tease. My ego still finds that too hard to bear.
In life, I learnt that there is no such thing as staying close as friends after you enjoy a great intimate fuck. Especially when you feel you have given your heart and soul to that person.
So there I was sulking and being in a growly mood, half the time giving him the cold shoulder or terse answers to questions. I was totally losing it.
At Paragon Mall, we got seated at a cafe and I quickly excused myself to the ladies.
I rang my best friend and told her that I knew our relationship was a lost cause and his subtle rejections of wanting to spend any private intimate time with me was itself THE answer to the fears at the back of my mind. I was crying and in pain.
As level-headed as best friends are wont to be in such situations, V angrily drummed the idea and then calmly decided that I should just walk away. Don't waste precious time in my short weekend trip back home because the Old Boy has already stated that he didn't want to have anything to do with me carnally. He had told her two nights before at my homecoming party to please talk some sense into me. V served me the verdict hard and loud and right there and then in the toilet, I felt sick in the stomach and told her I didn't know what to do with myself. I held on to the little table underneath the vanity mirror for support and thought I could just die there from a broken heart. I was an emotional wreck and didn't know what else to do.
Walk away and leave, she insisted. I couldn't, I couldn't, I sobbed.
You got to, she persisted. Listen, stop doing this to yourself. He is trouble.
Then came the text from the Old Boy, "Baby, are you alright?"
I had to re-composed myself fast and wait for the redness of my tear stained face to calm down before I readied myself. My heart was constricted in pain and I psyched myself hard before I left the ladies.
I would get back to the cafe, finish up my drink and then I would excuse myself to leave. That forward scenario projection was already heart breaking enough but I knew I had to execute it. Heck the aftermath of busting into a dam of tears, possibly in yet another toilet at the nearby hotel. I had to do the right thing by me.
But as plans do, they often fail.
At that instance, I was glad it did.
When we got up finally to leave the cafe given that I was not letting up my cold war with the Old Boy and focusing real hard to do what I needed to do for me, he asked me where we wanted to go next.
Short in tone I went, "Don't know." At the back of my mind, I was deliberating how best to tell him I was leaving. I walked ahead of him quickly.
The Old Boy got ahead of me on the escalators and turned to face me.
"Want to go to suburb XYZ?"
That was music to my ears. It was that secret code to Hotel 81 where we shared many a romp.
I was appeased instantly. My pout turned into a smile and I threw my arms around his neck and we kissed.
"See? That does it." He smiled.
The Old Boy saved the day. I was relieved for that moment. One part of my rationalising mind knew that the win was only short-lived. After all, the Old Boy has always been the weaker character bound to give in to quickly quell a situation for the short-term without persevering with the hard course to achieve longer term goals. If I had to sulk my way for him to want me, this whole deal was not looking great.
*****
That was the last day we ever got intimate again.
It was that same fateful day that I professed those 3 magic words to the Old Boy.
I should have walked away and stick to my course.
As the Chinese saying goes,"To get rid of the grass, once need to weed out the roots." This, really translates into severing all ties.
Harsh and painful but perhaps that's what I needed.
*****
The Old Boy continues to make his presence felt in my life.
Like a drug addict, I am wont to linger.
Some days I grow numb but other days, his words provoked me to pain. I get thrown so off balance by the slightest ripple, I know I am hardly an emotional gymnast so I shouldn't even have taken up the challenge in the first place.
Cold turkey as you know is the only way to wean off all bad habits, piecemeal does nothing really. On occasions, I feel resolute and invincible for days as reforming junkies do; and other days I fall real bad.
My mind still holds onto a final question I have never asked where the question marks hover like my own shadow which I could never shake off.
My problem is my inquisitiveness mind, always wanting to know.
Haven't I already know the answer?
The truth hurts but it may well serve as the hammer that deals the final blow to nail the coffin. I probably need that affirmation or rather, confirmation loud and clear.
Closure- right now, the ringing aura of finality to the word still daunts me. I feel the perpetual constriction of my heart dealing me a long and numbingly painful death. My coping mechanism continues to operate in that masochistic, slow and for-the-journey-esque piecemeal approach to get me through the day to day.
******
"As long as I stop by Tuesday night, then I should be half-OK by Friday night, I reasoned to myself.
By Tuesday I decided I might as well just keep using, get the crop planted, then go to a proper detox (which was the original plan) next week (which wasn't). I decided I would have a big hit just before we left early Saturday morning, and leave my dope at Mason's house, and white-knuckle it for twenty-four hours as a test of strength.
...So it was business as usual Wednesday and Thursday and Friday."
-Candy, Luke Davies
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Old Boy's Birthday
Have been coughing my lungs out for the past week.
I refrained from texting him to wheedle any sympathy out of him as the Old Boy is wont to do. Give pity- therein lies our main difference. I have always loathed that.
Quietly, I waited for him to come online.
But to no avail.
Well, he did last Thursday out of the blue late at night. Then logged off suddenly- I know because the Mistress must have turned up.
Over the long weekend, I experienced severe technical problems- laptop crashed and internet server down. Being poorly and nothing to do lying on the couch, my thoughts kept turning back to the Old Boy and why he lied to me. He left me an online message on Friday with the excuse he had to log off suddenly because social introductions were made to him by a friend...
In this case, I would rather he had let this one slide than for him to lie.
I felt the constriction of the heart once more and hated myself for being so hung up about it. Then Old Boy has a predilection to lying anyway so why would I think he would make an exception with me otherwise?
****
Yesterday was his birthday.
Every year, he goes to Bangkok around his birthday to pay in a certain friendly sports competition representing his club.
Quietly, I wonder who he is taking the opportunity to have a rendezvous. Is it the Mistress or that ugly Thai lover he looks up every time he visits the country.
Why should I care?
I sent him a text in the morning.
"Dearest Old Boy, Happy Birthday. All the best for your tournament and your new job. New year, new beginning, new life. With much love, P"
No reply sms.
Just as well. Think I should come to terms with the dawn of this new beginning and safely conclude that I have lost him for good.
No,actually shall I say he has decided to lose me for good.
Have been coughing my lungs out for the past week.
I refrained from texting him to wheedle any sympathy out of him as the Old Boy is wont to do. Give pity- therein lies our main difference. I have always loathed that.
Quietly, I waited for him to come online.
But to no avail.
Well, he did last Thursday out of the blue late at night. Then logged off suddenly- I know because the Mistress must have turned up.
Over the long weekend, I experienced severe technical problems- laptop crashed and internet server down. Being poorly and nothing to do lying on the couch, my thoughts kept turning back to the Old Boy and why he lied to me. He left me an online message on Friday with the excuse he had to log off suddenly because social introductions were made to him by a friend...
In this case, I would rather he had let this one slide than for him to lie.
I felt the constriction of the heart once more and hated myself for being so hung up about it. Then Old Boy has a predilection to lying anyway so why would I think he would make an exception with me otherwise?
****
Yesterday was his birthday.
Every year, he goes to Bangkok around his birthday to pay in a certain friendly sports competition representing his club.
Quietly, I wonder who he is taking the opportunity to have a rendezvous. Is it the Mistress or that ugly Thai lover he looks up every time he visits the country.
Why should I care?
I sent him a text in the morning.
"Dearest Old Boy, Happy Birthday. All the best for your tournament and your new job. New year, new beginning, new life. With much love, P"
No reply sms.
Just as well. Think I should come to terms with the dawn of this new beginning and safely conclude that I have lost him for good.
No,actually shall I say he has decided to lose me for good.
