Tuesday, March 31, 2009

 
Day 3

Day 3 of being 30. The weather is just as I like it. Windy, grey and cloudy. The air suggests imminent arrival of autumn.

Every morning, I walk my dog. These days, I wake up early. Same time when DL gets out of bed to take a shower and get ready for work. In the bed, I will chat with him in my half awaken state as he showers in the bathroom, the doors always open.

Yesterday, I walked to the supermarket and did grocery shopping alone for the first time in years. By the time I got home, it was not even 10.30a.m yet. Before, I had my daily routine of walking the dog, feeding her and even closed in on her shower time. So I did well with my time management and by 11a.m, I began cooking lunch and boiling the chicken frames I have bought earlier to make chicken congee to be ready for 12.15pm when DL returns home for his lunch break.

As I was walking home, I have decided that I actually quite like the life style of being a lady of leisure. I love the routine, walking my dog in the fields and knowing that I have an afternoon ahead of me to write, chat with my friends and to do the necessary research for my interests. I like Monday and Tuesday evenings where DL comes home by 5.30pm from work, no second night job awaiting him to go to. Plus for the first time in our lives, neither of us needn't work on the weekends and we have it free just for our family outings- house hunting, a new place to walk Fluffball, our weekend Borders hangout, movies and lots more.

Post leaving the restaurant business, I learnt more about myself. Sad Town affords me the luxury to take my own sweet time to heal and to find that inner peace.

I now know the secret to creating my own happiness. I need to feel in control of my life. That is, I need the flexibility of time.

So I have decided. And that I did as I felt that conviction inside me affirmingly again yesterday as I walked to the town centre to run my domestic errands.

I have decided I wasn't going to work for anyone again, especially in an office job. I have recently put up my hand to do mindless catalogue distribution for an old man. It doesn't guarantee me any wealth but it sure makes me physically healthier.

I have decided if setting up my own business yet again becomes unviable, I will become a housewife. I quite enjoy just staying at home these days. Don't feel the need to go out. I never look forward to working at the restaurant these days since it isn't my own.

I figure I don't really need money. I used to but as I look around, having already emptied out more than half my wadrobe and shoe collection to the St. Vinnie's, I still have tons of beautiful clothes and shoes to last me a long time to come. I will still be a beautiful housewife with some good timeless pieces. Items like my pink Chanel cheongsam that I wore on my birthday party, or my Dior silk dress or my Givenchy boots-they can last me for a long time, provided I don't put on weight. Now my needs are basic. Food and that's it.

So yes, I have decided. I told DL. I am going to be a housewife until we get ready to start our next business. I have decided not to work myself too hard in life unless it relates immediately to my well being. I need to feel that alpha if I have to so much as to labour myself to work. I need to live and breathe freedom from working for passion because I remember not too long ago, holding a job nearly killed my soul. I need a resurrection. But only with the right opportunity. Until then, I am happy being dormant.

Monday, March 30, 2009

 
Being 30

Refreshed perspective.

Leave my past behind. Reboot. The dawn of a new era.

One year older, a decade wiser?

Sunday, March 29, 2009

 
The End of a Decade

Yes, I turn the big three O today. Officially.

I needed some reminding when I woke up this morning.

Last night, I threw a birthday party already. All the invitees on my guest list turned up. Daisy even organised me a cake. Soci and girlfriend presented me with a nice bow vintage brooch.

After dinner, we sojourned to a club to dance the night away. Except yours truly sat down more than she danced. My guests were having a good time and I ended up dozing off on the couch. I wasn't being a useful handbag guarder of Louis Vuitton-s for my friends either as a result. By 1.30a.m, I motioned to DL that I think I need to call it a night.

Today, the usual suspects of good friends from around the world sent me text messages, emails and facebook messages with their well wishes. My old string of grey arrangements have coincidentally all ceased such pleasantries. The Old Boy wished me in advance on Friday over msn at work since he wasn't going to be online on the weekend. I still have his old birthday message from last year stored in my other mobile phone.

Here is the beginning of a new era.

I must be getting old.

Happy Birthday to me

Friday, March 27, 2009

 
The Weekend Family Man

So there he is- with his weekly weekend routine. Church, family outings, lunches and dinner with his parents and respectable friends of the religious sort. Week in week out for more than a decade of his married life. His tracks are well covered.

We met under such a frivolous context. Sordid tales of each other we kissed and told. His “real”, normalised life that masked his other life was something I didn't know deep enough. Well, at least for the time we kept our communications purely faceless.

We first met on a Friday. It was during the December festive season. Serrendipituously, he had a real excuse for being out on a Friday night- company staff function. I happened to want to be at the same night spot. I didn't realise that his household had such high religious spirit- cell group meetings were held at his residence. I used to joke about cell group meetings and all and asked in jest if he was part of one and in his serious reply of yes, I was led to this discovery by chance. It was during the second time I was back home in Singapore and our relationship was coming to a standstill. The next morning after that first Friday, he texted me to say that he had a lovely evening and it was in the longest while since he got home past three in the morning.

Saturday weekly church attendance are not to missed and there is Sundays spent with his parents. But the day after we met on a Saturday night where I was at a local pub with some old friends (V and a couple of “young” male friends my age whom I knew since high school), he sent me a text to inform me that he just got home after an outing with his domestics- would I like him to come and join me. I replied if he so wished. I didn't appreciate the extent of his making an appearance but knew he was keen. Again, post the first meeting, I didn't know whether we would meet up again during my three-week holidays back home.

Before I first met him, I had a curiousity about his life. I asked him where he met his girl-next-door wife. Again in my pre-emptive way, I proffered possible answers meant in good humour that he met her in church. I didn't even know he has a religon. His persona was so polygamous and sordid in my imagination that I didn't think he was religiously disposed. Or have religon dominate the theme of his life. Hence, my answer. Then he said yes. Oh my god, I exclaimed and laughed as I typed online. Did he go to church to socialise and prey on the innocently sweet, I asked. I really thought church going was his guise. But obviously, I thought wrong. A few occasions, I brought up the conflict between his religiousness and his polygamy and he would demand that I stop talking about such taboo subjects and brushed it aside. He is a “condemned” man already, he said.

During the initial stage of our relationship, I recalled an occasion where we were out in town, post our rendezvous in our usual hotel. It was a Friday evening.We were having dinner and he was looking uncomfortable and kept strategising about what if he met someone he knew and “whom” I should be if people ask about how we were related. As we were strolling to our next venue, I held his hand lightly as he lit up a cigarette. He said to me casually that if someone were to see him now smoking and holding another girl's hand, it would be a “double sin”. Vocabulary consisting of “sin” reminded me of a God fearing individual and the idea of smoking too, what had that got to do with religion? I slowly began to get a glimpse of his religious inclinations and the influences he grew up with where subtly it must be ingrained in him that he is part of a flock..

The Christmas season is traditionally always busy for a household like his. I recalled that on the evening of Christmas Day, I got him to come and meet me and Dancer. After a few to and fro text messages about it having to be somewhat late, he finally arrived. He had a busy day, he told us. Second baby was baptised in church. Day before, he was involved in the church celebrations in the music ministry, I believe. He told me affectionately that he got some good credit from audience who came up to him and praised his singing voice. Do you think my nose is getting longer, he asked me endearingly. Huh, I replied. Then I realised he meant that he was like Pinnochio- his nose was getting longer from lying to the domestics so that he could extract himself to spend time with me.

I always recall that poignant moment of us in bed. I was tearing and thinking about DL, in pain still after the break up and asked him if he ever felt tormented that he is still alive whenever he wakes up. He nodded sadly. And I demanded when and he paused for a long time, hard to find the words as he repeated “when...” and finally, said yes when I asked him was it in regards to him and his wife. So he doesn't compartmentalise his lives as well as he led me or the rest believe. Perhaps.

Sometimes he tells me about his children if I asked. He is always a boy at heart to me and not so much a daddy. He had a big birthday party for them since they happen to have same birthdays, coincidentally. Big jumping castles, magician and food galore. The drum sticks and musical instruments he bought his older child. The matching sweaters he bought for the two kids in the U.S. The year end family trip to be taken in Vegas. Once, I said he wasn't a good daddy since he is always out during the week with his sordid friends, possibly mistress and playing sports at the club. We were online. He was also interogating me about Koran and me for the umpteenth whilst the household was still asleep. His baby was awaken and he left the child tearing up and chewing up some old newspapers at one corner since he kept crying everytime he put the baby on his lap whilst he tried typing me without the baby interfering on the keyboard. Darling, take the newspapers away from baby or he can get poisoned by the ink, I told him. It's ok, he said. You are not a good daddy, I replied. He got mad and threatened to log off on me. Fine, he would go look after the baby and stop talking to me, he said. A few occasions, it became a sore point whenever I said he wasn't a good father.

I always saw that polygamous and sordid side of him. His involvement with a variety of females of a wide age group. The oldest being his Mistress who is about four years older than me. The other females always seeking him out and vice versa for a good time. Them, the damsels always needing some financial “help” and him giving in to his carnal desires and needs, and sometimes going out of his way as a client to assist them. Always wanting to feel wanted and playing the Robin Hood, the emotionally insecure him. When we were purely friends, I told him how stupid he was.

During my last trip back home, I chanced upon a recent news article where he was featured. I realised he has been involved in some charity work for some years in an improverished Asian country. His community spirit was highlighted. Then there was also the 10% of his monthly salary donated to the church. Again, it was something I asked in jest, which turned out to be true. Appalled I was- told him about the stupidity of his actions because I have some strong views on this one. But most importantly, I know how little he makes to make ends meet these days. Times are bad, got to think for the young kids, I told him. When you are in dire straits, the church isn't going to return to the money or assist you for the money you have handed out to them over the years, I cautioned. But I always knew he has a soft heart. Maybe that's why I love him. Despite everything.

So that's how the Weekend Family Man's life goes. On week days afternoons, he distracts himself between work with rendezvous of company kept by women his community or old wealth anglicised upbringing would have little to do and perhaps more at night. But he is home before midnight. Whilst the illusion, deceptions and distractions of his reel life is really his real life, he knows he has that creature comfort of another Pleasantville life to go home to. Every night. For a long time and will be for an even longer time to come.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

 
Motivation

Tell me if I am lazy or what.

I am so not motivated to work, especially for others. In about half an hour's time, I need to drag myself to work in the restaurant. My feet and back have been sore too.

Last week, someone nearly bought a restaurant business. He said his decision to buy was dependent on my joining the business. I barely knew him- he used to work for me for a short time. I told him it is his dream, not mine and churned him some numbers and points of consideration. My verdict: Risky business.

Last weekend, DL and I went to an expo and looked at the wonderful opportunities that we could venture into. I realised I have no absolutely interest to partner up with anyone. Our team was there too and I realise our goals and interests are not quite aligned. I have since been doing my own due dilligence and contacting the necessary people.

I need a shake up. These few months, I have learnt more about myself. My only motivation is me and DL said to me last week- “You only do what you believe in”. He is right. I need to feel passion in my blood stream or that adrenalin rush or I will feel so disinclined to labour myself over someone else's interest or dreams.

Funny, that bastard Damo (Tina's husband) had the cheek to ask DL to ask me if I was still interested to re-join the restauarant business. I know their business have gone down to a trickle since I left. Bad and poorly managed staff. I couldn't help but snigger. DL told him don't think so, P just wants to take it easy now.

It's strange how I noticed just last night that when I used to do my 15-hour days with no days off at the restauarant, I didn't have time to notice or realise how physically worn out I was. Passion kept my spirits up and running. But these days, working for others made me realise how tired my lower back is and how sore my feet can get. Even a few massage trips do nothing to alleviate my discomfort. Spending money to fix me over a meagre paid job that isn't mine. Is it worth it, I wonder?

Last week, Della asked if I want to go back to Singapore for a break. She wants to sponsor my airfare. She needs me to be there for her. The proposition is tempting. B needs me too and so is V looking forward to my return. I could also do with touching base with a few people I have abandoned my half planned business plans for the restauarant business. Kill a few birds with one stone- cannot come anymore timely.

Friday, March 20, 2009

 
Dug Deeper

It's funny how for a long time I tried to skim past and bury the memories of joint experiences I had with a certain individual. More so out of guilt. Didn't feel deep enough for that person.

The other day, something got over me.

As I was letting go of my past with a certain other individual and beginning to make peace, within myself I found myself assaulted by memories and recollection of the other individual above. For a long time, the former individual was presented to my imagination as a forgotten memory best left untouched lest it undid the Pandora's Box that I have taken care not to exposed myself to. I didn't have room for this person or to care...

The other day, I felt that my conscience have caught up with me.

I recalled sad and vulnerable expressions that I chose to ignore. I remember chucking a mental and being a cold blanket even though the former individual must have been hurt by my words. Still, he hung close until as anyone would do, smarten up eventually. Most importantly from those expressions, I detect what could have been genuine good feelings or was it called affection that this individual was hoping I could feel from him. But I hardened and continued to shut one part of myself from him- that empathetic and compassionate side of me.

I now understand why people make decisions the way they do.

One part of us is tired of giving our hearts cold showers. Up to a point, one has got to smarten up right? Find a harbour, find an anchor point- where one knows will always have a place for one.

No matter what the others say, I did recall the expressions and I did remember my own deeds. One part of that dormant me is now awakening. For that, I do feel sorry. I have the memories to haunt and remind me. Callous, mean me.

But I didn't mean to be.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

 
Yesterday & Today


Newly weds always seem to have this happy glow on their faces.

I wonder if I ever get married, would I look the same?

*****

So yesterday, I thought I was never going to get out of my emotionally depressing rut.

V gave me a good arse whipping over msn to put some sense into me.

On the other end, I was receiving sms texts from B who has had enough of corporate life. She tendered in her resignation, her boss tearing and her emotions in turmoil.

Then DL came home for lunch. My face read glum.

Who's wrong, he asked.

I told him I was depressed.

DL was a hard counsellor. He took me through the process like V and then we got onto our relationship. Some issues there. I suggested he sees a counsellor. He said I am the one who needs to sort out myself lest it spillover to our relationship.

DL missed his ritual post-lunch siesta and left for the office.

Daisy turned up and we went to her doctor's appointment. She hadn't made a sale since she first started her job on the road. I told her we could do a joint gig because I could sell and I am passionate about education. I was keen to nail down on these parents who haven't realised what they are in for since they choose to have kids.

The real estate agent called. We missed out on the property. Someone put in a higher price.

In the evening, DL, Daisy, Fluffball and I went to the playground to play. We got off the car quickly and rushed to our favourite play thing, like the three of us have a combined age of 15 and Fluffball went free willy into the park to do her possum hunting and sniffing. DL pushed me hard on the swing and twirled me giddy on this spinaround disc that I was made to stand on. Then Rosie and I bounced hard on each end on the see saw with suspension as we chatted over how we could close a deal for her. I mused at our ages and how much fun we could still have at the playground.

I was slowly regaining some ground.

After dinner, we came back home. DL put on a movie for us to watch and my mind was slowly putting to work once more. I was checking out other money making opportunities online and doing my research. Daisy and I looked at franchises for sale, some extra pocket money side gig whilst Della tried chatting with me on MSN over her current emotional problem. Same shit as what I was in- being in love with a polygamous old man.

DL retired early to bed. He had looked tired earlier on. He carried Fluffball with him to the bedroom. Daisy and I finished watching the movie and we surfed the internet for more ideas. Today, I should make a house call with her and see how much I like her job. It got later and she left.

I stayed up alone in the quiet household.

I did what I haven't done or imagined I would do in the longest time.

I went onto a job website.

Maybe I could get a real job. For the time being. For money. For my sanity. Be back in the game.

I looked at sales, consulting, financial services, property, retail, PR. Some jobs excited me and I felt my blood pumping once more. So excited was I to feel alive again, I wanted to run out of the house for a jog.

I must have kept at my job hunting for a good 2.5 hours until my fire died down again.

Ah, the hassle of re-writing my resume. Then I felt like kicking myself for chucking out all my old intellectual property that would so prized me in my profession. Just binned them like 2 weeks ago. Didn't think I would need it ever in my life.

Clean slate it seems is what I need to start on.

Monday, March 16, 2009

 
Invincible

I lived the last decade like I think I would never really grow old. Forever young I will be.

Today, I felt that slight sinking feeling once more- a kind of envy for others. I am once again the one to be left behind.

I just found out that my good buddy, Harry is getting engaged. A sign of becoming an adult. He was a fun party boy.

I still feel like a teenager.

“No matter what, we'll still party like the way we do,” he told me in September at MOS.

“Well, now you say. But when you're married, things will change somewhat.” I said with a smile.

I have heard this line from close friends one too a many time. B said the same thing too and partying thereafter has never been quite the same.

For a long time, I failed to comprehend this sinking feeling B was so trying to tell me or the peer pressure V once felt to get engaged to that ex.

Now I do.

I feel I am still living in 2008. Everyone has moved on. To greener pastures, that is.

I feel alone. No career and no fun.

I am not ready to grow up yet. But becoming thirty beckons me in two weeks.

 
Insomnia

I can't fucking sleep. It's 3am.

Slept too much in the afternoon. Now I am surrounded by me and my own thoughts. I am back in 2008 again. Another memory, another time.

Good thing, I don't have a day job to return to on Monday or else I will be getting a cardiac arrest for my lack of sleep and difficulty in waking up.

I don't fucking like this feeling. I am fucking unsettled by some thoughts.

I need to stop lazing and start working. Perhaps.

Well, not really. Don't fucking want to work.

By the way, we found a property yesterday. We have put in an offer. So maybe I might have a new house to distract me and put me to work as a home maker.

I am not en forme. Not in the game. Not being competitive. It's fucking unlike me.

My Manager calls me Miss Ditzy. He thinks I don't need to work. He wants me to step up and wants me to do his role so he could take some time out. It's a big gig if I could even excel in his role. Its a respectable dining establishment in town.

I am mildly excited in my unfocused and lacking in motivation state.

But I am aware that I am not ready. Emotionally and physically.

I am fucking unfocused these days. Yesterday, my team and I went to speak to a proprietor about buying over her business. First, I was late and missed half the conversation. Then I inquired about the price. $280k, I think it was. Fuck, I don't even remember exactly and I am not one to forget about numbers. I didn't even talk much. Usually, I am the leader of the pack with the hard questions.

I have no fucking interest. I was part drifting and I felt a mild irritation arising within me about why the fuck I was there?

Please, someone please tell me, this is not going to be it for my life? Please tell me I will get better.

 
Connection Problems

I find myself doing it again.

Just like Saturday, I left the club without saying goodbye to my friends and a quick one to DL. I just wanted to leave and drift.

Today, I logged out twice while chatting halfway to a friend on Facebook. Now I couldn't even be bothered to sign back on and continue my half finished conversation.

I am usually socially courteous. I am finding myself lacking the social grace.

I could cite connection problems.

Really, I think my brain is just disconnected from my actions and the real world.

 
Envy

I am rarely envious of others. Sometime in my youth, I have learnt or trained myself not to. Maybe it was after Mr. London- my sense of self confidence have leaped heaps and bounds. I stopped feeling I wasn't good enough for a boy. I don't know why-it wasn't bravado on my end but a real sense of self conviction. I don't feel I am too good for someone either- there's no mistaking about it.

I just feel indifferent to that point. So you see, I lack that emotional feeling of jealousy in most relationships. Well, until recently, the Old Boy did something to make me feel emotionally unbalanced and paranoid about other women in his life...

****

Recently, I have been feeling a sense of fuzziness by just learning about my friends' pregnant news or staring at baby pictures of my friends. Friends from high school or just close friends from the past.

Maybe I am really getting old and that innate maternal instincts are catching up.

But no, I don't feel like being a mother just yet, except to my dog.

****

The other day, I felt anger staring at the baby pics of the ex-boyfriend and his wife through her blog site that I found some one and half years ago. I guess I hated her to the core for underhandedly taking away what I thought was mine eons and eons ago. Though I am aware that it takes two hands to clap. It definitely didn't help that she had to purposely sought me out and told me in my face (unbeknownst to me for years post my break up with G) that she was “still” with him. Slap in my face she intended. So I shall remember her purposeful attempt at threading on my toes.

I found myself being bitter and angry that a bitch like her can be happy. She does not deserve it! Lowly fucking bitch.

****

Today, I found myself feeling envious in the most unlikely places.

I found him handsome and charming for once.On a photo. I never before when I had him.

Maybe forbidden fruit taste better. Well, since I have that history.

But I am hardly a bitch. At least, I never had intention to be one. Take someone else's property, that is. Somehow, it always landed at my feet. DL included.

Today, I found myself feeling envious. Envious that he is happy. She looked gorgeous. I could well have been her. Could have, would I have?

Always thought I was well and truly above it all. Me of all people to be envy? Come on, give me a break. P does not do envy or jealousy.

If I ever see him again and he looks like what I have just seen in the picture, I will pay him that courtesy of “You look swell.”

Just like how he did the last time when he told me I was looking good.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

 
Unbalancing Act

I am in a growly mood.

Three club entry stamps within an hour, I find myself leaving my friends and going. The party have barely started. Prior, Daisy and I spent more than an hour putting on make up and her curling my hair.

Everything irritate the shits out of me. I cannot focus.

I started feeling emotionally unstable when we couldn't locate DL and gang at the first club. I was losing my patience and my irritation was betrayed over the phone. Shortly after a drink, we sojourned to a gay bar.

At the gay bar, for some reason, I got irritated that DL had to pay for Daisy's cover charge as she looked surprised at having to pay. Why should he when everyone in the group was going dutch? We aren't particularly rich of late. Somehow, the smallest thing irritated the shits out of me. His supposed virtue seems a vice to me now.

Then the group went to get drinks and again, people always seem too slow in reaching for their wallets and then DL always as alert will do the “right” thing. This generosity is pissing the shits out of me. It reminded me of our youth where he was still shouting drinks to friends when he was down to $12 in his bank account. I was losing it and so was he. I feel my deep seated anger for him re-surfacing.

So I left the club and hailed a cab home without even saying the necessary replies to the group and do the right social thing. Lately, I have run out of patience. I can't fucking focus to even do the socially appropriate thing. If I gotta go, I gotta go.

When I made my way to the taxi rank, two ladies cut my queue. I screamed at them and told them to get in the cue. Too bad, they got on too fast and think they heard me. As the taxi passed me by, I gave them the finger.

Of late, in my unbalanced mood, the littlelest thing DL does in conflict to my desires will see my temper rising. But no, I got to suppress it because he has a greater temper that could match mine. I would bite my tongue to say things that will become cutting.

These are days where I would feel like I have fucking no patience for him, or for anyone. Fuck off everyone! Fuck off! I am best to be left alone.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

 
Confession

“I think I need to see my psychologist again,” I confessed to DL suddenly. I was in the shower and he was seated on the toilet bowl taking a dump.

“OK, why don't you give him a call and make a trip down to Sydney? Or perhaps, we could look up a new one for you in Sad Town,” he replied.

That was as far as I could bring myself to let him into my thoughts.

*****

I have been feeling emotionally unbalanced of late.

My mind likes to wander and conjure up images that I haven't yet witnessed first hand but know they realistically exist. I become greatly disturbed.

I get really down without being able to speak to anyone about it. Just me and my thoughts. Big domino effect.

**

The Old Boy used to say I could be so ridiculous and imagined things that weren't there.I think too much and am paranoid.

Once in July when I first got back to Singapore, I went to the whisky bar with a friend. From the corner of my eye, I saw what I thought was him in a distance. Same coloured blue shirt, same shortness (and there aren't many men this short) and I was sure I heard his voice.

My friend paused for a bit and told me that the voice indeed sounded like the Old Boy's but in a distance and trying to be discreet, he wasn't sure if that man was my Old Boy. But I insisted it was.

The next day, I confronted the Old Boy online and he insisted it wasn't him and became mad with anger for my accusations for his ignoring me.

**

The other time, on one of our last meetings leading up to my return to Sad Town in October, again I pre-empted that our merging of dinner date with his friend, Uncle G was his way of not having to spend one to one time with me. We had planned the dinner the week before and on the day itself, he sprung a surprise that we will be joining Uncle G for dinner that night.

I was fuming and I figured he timed our dinner date such that it would be the day Uncle G arrived back from his holidays and that Uncle would have rang his best buddy up anyway to tell him all about it. In my detective, pre-emptive and ability to put two and two together mood, I was becoming really mad. So mad that I wanted to cancel my dinner with him and cut him out of my life for good since it might as well be then as I was about to head back to Australia. I told him if he missed Uncle G so much, he might as well have dinner with him.

The Old Boy saved the day eventually and asked if I wanted to have dinner still. He said he really didn't plan it and promised we would have our own dinner instead before we caught up with Uncle G. Later in the night during our lighter moods over a nice wholesome Peranakan dinner (as usual, I didn't break his bank account), the Old Boy said endearingly that I always imagined too much and become ridiculous. I think it was that night he said to me that you know you are hard to love and as we strolled along old Peranakan shophouses, he asked if it was true that I was going back with DL upon my return to Australia. As we walked into a short, dark alleyway as a thoroughfare, I wanted to hold him tightly and kissed the life out of him. But of course, I held myself back.

I realised that I have become a paranoid loon since I met the Old Boy.

*****

My sex life is virtually non-existent.

Concerned and (mainly) curious people have asked how my sex life have been.

One, two, three, four...

Four times since my return from Singapore.

I mentioned to DL my concern regarding our lack of carnal play.

He mentioned perhaps I could take more initiative sometimes, instead of him doing all the work.

He is right. I have always been a pro-active lover. Now my libido is close to zero.

In fact, its been slightly more than a year since I sucked a dick. The last was the Old Boy's in March.

My thoughts are the impediment to my actions or at least attempted actions to move forward.

*****

So how could I move on? I asked V the other day.

I could limit contact.

But I cannot cut out the voice or images in my head. Yes, maybe I could distract myself to other things when such moments arrived mentally.

But emotionally, how do I stop myself from feeling?

With time, V replied. It will heal everything.

It's no good telling yourself repeatedly that you love him.

******

Soci saw a psychologist for a number of years.

He told me one thing he learnt was that you got to forgive yourself.

Soci suggested I do the same for myself, then I could get a move on.

******

DL once told me that people with real depression sometimes do destructive things to themselves and feel that way without knowing why. But I do. So maybe it's not real depression after all.

He is right. I know the root of my so called depression.

(Sometimes I see DL as a wise sage-he sees through me but he lets me be. He can only be there to support me. Maybe this is what true love is all about.)

I am also reminded of Little C at work who is fast turning eighteen in two weeks. She told me she doesn't want to live her eighteenth year because she is sad. She has been put in a very financially compromising situation since she arrived in Australia and she has to work really hard to make ends meet. Then her family and friends have let her down too- life feels meaningless for her...

Her suicide convictions are very real because I understand her very well. Like me, she is an Aries with a very passionately angry temper. I see her mimicking my youth. I am trying to keep her alive as the clock ticks by.

No, I don't harbour anymore suicide thoughts. That's for starters.

I just need help to let go so that I could embrace fully my wonderful new life ahead.

Time to book into the psychologist yet again.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

 
The Balcony


I have only been to the Balcony Bar at the along Orchard Road three times. I reckon its a good place for one to go if one is an insomniac or have run out of places to go when most of the clubs and bars are closed for the night. You see, it is open for 24 hours. A private smile always creeps up my face at the thought of The Balcony.

You see, each time I am there, I go with a different man. The type of man that is perhaps good for just a night. Well, maybe two.

And always the same couch.

*****

The first time, I've been to the Balcony, I was brought to this place by Dr. Jekyll & Hyde. It was after a night of club hopping with Harry. V and I had a chance meeting with my long time friend Harry which led to our merger of partying with him and his entourage, which of course led to my acquaintance of the Dr. Jekyll & Hyde.

At the end of the clubbing, our last stop being MOS, everyone was sufficiently drunk and happy. At this stage, V had buggered off with one of Harry's colleague and we had lose one or two of the entourage members along the way. Then it was down to us three- Harry, the Jekyll & Hyde and me.

By the time, we thrown ourselves comfortably back on the couch, Harry had dozed off before our French bottle of sauvignon blanc arrived. Dr Jekyll & Hyde and I took the liberty to consume the entire bottle of alcohol at Harry's expense to increase our Dutch courage, perhaps so we could make out more pleasurably before the watchful eyes of the bartenders.

I recall vaguely his whispering sweet nothings in my ears and my legs slung across his lap and then as the alcohol was racing in my blood stream, so was the “wonderful” display of my less than discrete behaviour. I was sitting on him or was it riding on him?

Came the morning light, we decided to continue with our merry-making and sojourned to his apartment.

*****

During the second time, it was again an after MOS-night-of-clubbing story. This time it was with the Koran.

I was clubbing and drinking with V and her boyfriend when the Koran came to join us at the MOS. I think he just came from yet another wedding that he had attended. Towards the end of the night, it was down to us two. Yet again.

At the dance floor, we danced, flirted, laughed and kissed as he twirled me around. We, or at least I have consumed copious amounts of alcohol by that stage. Think he mentioned something about no one at home, meaning we could sojourn as the next destination once we wrap up on the dance floor. Come to think of it, I now recall that we left before the last song.

I was disinclined to fuck another man for three good reasons at that moment. A) I wasn't mentally prepared- didn't expect the Koran and I to kiss, let alone fuck; B) I just got together with the Old Boy; C) I had my period.

As an insomniac with a reluctance to be in my own company, I suggested the Balcony. So the Balcony we went. The Koran and I sat on the very same couch that Dr. Jekyll & Hyde made out on. Very civilised we were and canned green tea was all we ordered. I suspected the Koran and I have similar intentions to sober up lest we did something that we both regret. In fact, he tried to let me know him a little better and we had a decent and nice conversation about the callousness of our coming of age, perhaps part alluding to our earlier behaviours. After all, it was only the second time we met.

I don't remember if we kissed again at the Balcony. We must have, maybe during the time where he opened up about himself and the car accident he got into and the works that he had to go through from constructive plastic surgery to counselling. If we did, I must've have initiated it for him to limit his getting into such heavy conversation with me. I wasn't in the mood for anything heavy since I was having too much self-indulgent pain from my recent break up with DL and was in that phase of excessive indulgence of merry making, like the only thing that counted at the moment was me and only me. I didn't need to know about other people's problems.

When the darkness of the night has broken light into a new day, I got up and suggested it was time for us to leave. We got out of the establishment and I was inclined to get into the first cab queuing outside to get us home pronto. Instead, he suggested we took a long walk as he lit up his ciggie, perhaps to prolong the conclusion of our outing.

I figured I wasn't going to see him again. Surprisingly, it didn't ended there.

He came back for me for more.

So there, the Koran became instrumental in altering and shaping the events and my emotions of 2008. I didn't factor in his existence, let alone the impact he could have on my world and the Old Boy's.

*****

Post “Ballantine”, I made Big M take me out for a drink. I wasn't going to let him get away from having fun with me and me not doing what was the original intention of our outing.

So there we were. On that very same couch again where the Dr. Jekyll & Hyde and I first made out.

Big M and I chatted and as usual, his hands took the liberty to be wrapped around me. I was needing some male contact there and then, what with my need to get over the Old Boy at the fastest possibility. I slung my legs over his lap again and laid on his chest. I wanted to feel the warmth and physical proximity of a man once more. Any man was better than no man for that night. In my mind, I had to get over the Old Boy who had texted to say that he had gone to Malaysia with the domestics for the week and by the time, he returned to Singapore, I was on my grand pilgrimage to Nepal. He would talk to me when I get back which was in about 45 days' time. I wasn't sure how and what I would feel after. The fear that I wouldn't get well after was a gripping scary prospect for me but then to have completely be over this man, I couldn't let him again just yet and the mere idea was equally painful.

Big M took the liberty to let his hand wander secretly under my dress where his finger was wriggling its way to my private feminine passage way. I was enjoying it. It was ages at this stage that I was intimate with anyone.

No, I wasn't drunk. I was sober as hell. I wanted to make sure I was so I knew I could be with another man in my clear state of mind and I wasn't about to let the Old Boy affect my ability to get over him, be it physically or emotionally. At least, it was a start that I could handle the physical bit.

Finally, we got up to leave. As we strolled hand in hand like a couple would do, Big M in a concealed curious way asked why I would be the way I was that night with him. He tried to get answer out of me and attempted to allude to how I might be somewhat special to him.

Really, I wasn't in the mood.

Too many times, I heard this stuff from men and their attempts to place themselves in that special spot in my heart.

Well, let them be.

All I knew that night was I needed loving so I could distract myself and the Old Boy from my mind. I was a person dying from heartache and pain inside. The rest didn't really matter.

*****

Three trysts, one place, one couch.

The first, with a stranger, Dr. J& H whom I was fast falling in love with by the break of dawn.

He broke my heart but later. In the midst, in the shady cyber alleyway of my life, I met the Old Boy whom I initially mistook as Dr. J & H. There, the story began.

I fell in love once more. With the Old Boy. But in my restless wayward ways, I was a rebellious and polygamous soul. I had yet another tryst at the Balcony. This time, with the Koran. An accidental, unpremeditated rendezvous but I “disappointed” the Old Boy, nonetheless. My obstinate ways was to trigger more heartaches for myself to again and were to alter my dynamics with the Old Boy permanently later on, unbeknownst to me then just yet. In hindsight, now I do.

Tryst three- it was my poor excuse at getting over the Old Boy. Big M was my last fling since albeit yet another accidental one (brought over by his opportunistic carnal attempts at "Ballantine"). Also a married man.

I think and I hope it will be my last midnight visit to the Balcony.

I was always told by my mum that things happen in threes. Good or bad. I

Memories accompanying my secret smile whenever I pass that place is all I should ever keep. But no more. Think I am done with the Balcony.

Sunday, March 08, 2009

 
Dream Catcher

The other morning, I woke up from a faded dream.

I dreamt of him.

*****

In the dream, we met up again. As we pushed through the crowd, he put his hand lightly at my lower back. Then someone bumped into him and with his other hand, he brushed past my breasts and then very quickly, he gave a cheeky squeeze.

I turned to him astounded (just like I did once in our second meeting where we were with other people, he stood close behind me and secretly gave my waist a cheeky squeeze) for I was more than aware by now that he wants nothing to do with me physically. He reciprocated my look with a smile.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes, why not?” he replied.

I was turning coy (like I am wont before once when he said something lewd over dinner in reference to the redness and softness of the sashimi as being akin to my private flesh that he had so tasted) as I understood his intentions. For once, that was in my favour...

*****

I woke up, feeling somewhat comforted.

So I kept laying in bed for a good two hours, trying to get back to sleep and to get back to that special place where my disbelief could be suspended so that I could have a joint moment with him once more...

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

 
More than I can Say

The banality of life in Sad Town gets to me, sometimes.

The Old Boy is constantly on my mind. I miss him more than I can express in words. And I love him even much more.

I don't understand this about myself. Neither can V.

We could only conclude that I am much more emotional as a person.

But I can remember his face in my mind now so maybe I still have hope of letting him go some day. Perhaps one fine day.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

 
Outfits

I remember the chronology of my personal history from the outfits and footwear I don. Going through my wardrobe, I often find myself transported back to a certain “era” of my life distinct by my style of that period.

Just late last week, DL and I finally tidied our junk yard apartment that we have been living in for the past three months (amidst a pile of junk where we could hardly walk in the house without tripping over shitloads of things) to make it look like a home. The mission took an entire day beginning at 8am that only managed to conclude at 12 midnight. We gave away furniture, seived through clothes, shoes and books. I must've have given away fifteen pairs of shoes, some never worn in my life and three massive tarpaulin bags of goodie clothes, ranging from designer wear to items bought on a whim and never worn before.

Every so often during the culling process, I stopped to ponder if I could handle parting with an item. I have things that I have worn since I was 16 that I could never bring myself to throw away despite having little use for it now. There was the red Chinoiserie jacket that distinct my 16-year-old style that I often matched with my bell bottom pants and my platform shoes. I wore that straight, long hair down to my waist and donned that thick mascara lashed and black eyelined mod make up look.

I unpacked my bags and found that vintage black and white striped dress that I wore during my first proper date with the Old Boy where we ended the night frolicking in his car. The other week, I mentioned about the dress and he said, yeah he remembered it. You are not thinking about giving it away, are you, he asked. I have not worn that dress since.

Next, I found what I would call my convenient little, short, casual black dress that I often wear last year when I was too lazy to think about what to put on. I haven't seen it in a while. I remember the dress with a slight tinge of heartache. It was the 10th of March last year that the Old Boy and I were intimate for the last time and never again. Even then, he probably felt coerced into it- a Pyrrhic victory it was. Funny, it was the last time I sucked a man.

Once during the packing and unpacking process, DL called out to me. Excitedly, he exclaimed that he found his favourite shoes. He came into the bathroom where my ass was perched on the toilet seat and before me, he produced my pair of gold and navy satin fabric four inched heels with ankle lace ups from Guess by Mariciano. He asked me when I got them and again noted that I didn't take good care of my shoes upon realising I have worn the shoes no more than two times. The polished finished heel were scratched badly. I remember this shoe too well and truly. It was that Wednesday in January 2008 where I bought this pair of shoes to match with a navy and yellow dress. That night, I was meeting the Old Boy and later in the night, to boogie with my bunch of friends, the Koran included. Came March, I was back home again in Singapore. I wore that same pair of shoes to Prive to meet my friends and the Old Boy. He left me suddenly and in my hurt state, I rang for the Koran. That night, I went to his house and did the unthinkable again.During our walk to his apartment, in my tipsy state, I tripped in my high heels and fell. I always have that two-inch scar on my knee now to remind me of that night- my rendezvous (oops, I did it once again to the Old Boy), my pain and that low point that mark my personal history. The things DL doesn't know about with this pair of shoes.

Next, I found my Givenchy suede leather boots that I have never worn and which I bought during a serendipitous sale that happened to be valid only for that weekend. For a long time, I have been eyeing that pair of boots in the departmental store but the price was way too dear for me to take the plunge. So I reckon it was fate that I finally could owned it, just like my Fuchsia tweed suit that was to mark my trademark style during my corporate life. The Fuchsia tweed suit being the one and only suit that caught my eye upon my university graduation. I was back from my travels to Cuba, America and Canada, broke without a job and thinking that my career path was going to be the straight and narrow one of an accountant, so that vibrancy would not go too well during interviews. Plus I wasn't able to afford a A$600 suit. Somehow I just knew it would be mine but I didn't know why and how. But life has a way of throwing in some pleasant surprises and I am of the belief that if you wished hard enough for something, somehow it will come to you. Somehow, the only place that wanted to hire me was that Australian fashion label- I got my first job as a store manager and got that suit (and many other business suits that would benefit me later in my corporate life) for free. Pro Bono for my good faith, perhaps.

The Old Boy had noticed that I would make the effort and dress up for him, during our short time together. He remembers me by my black outfits, vintage dresses and matching “classy” shoes.

I was going through my wardrobe and noticed that I indeed do have tons of black clothes. Dresses especially. I saw the Marcs asymmetrical dress that DL bought me during my 23rd birthday. Then another black 20s flapper style dress that I bought in Paris and which I wore the day where I first met the acquaintance of Big M at Attica in the year of 2004. And there was the black laced halter neck with the plunging neckline dress that I wore when M came to spend the New Year with me in Singapore in 2006, where Big M came to join me for drinks only to realise my “friend” was male and for years before we met up at Ballantine again, Big M has requested for me to wear that dress once more when we meet again. In the cupboard, I also saw that black, plunging neckline jersey dress that I wore to work sometimes- it was the same dress where I donned and had a rendezvous with the French Aura in his Parisian apartment on 22nd November 2004, the week before I left Paris and in August 2006, I wore it again with black fishnet stockings to celebrate Dopey's birthday with him. He found the “plunging neckline” distracting.

The other day, I tried putting on my purplish short DKNY dress with yet another plunging neckline. I had that dress since I was 19. Vivid memories- it was the day for once in our lives that Mr. London and I celebrated our birthdays together. But he brought a girl he met at a party the night before. In his birthday card ironically, I wrote and confessed for the first time that I liked him. That night, he sent the girl home and left me with his friend (“please take care of P”) who tried to hit on me. I was broken-hearted for a long time and soon after, he called me a couple of times (perhaps to gain more clarity from what he could interpret from that birthday card) but I kept missing his calls and sometimes, I just didn't pick up because I couldn't handle him dealing me an emotional blow that he was just not into me. So for years, I continued being trapped in the ghost of his memory right up till when I was a young 25-year old adult. Our meeting up again in Paris somehow ended that long emotional chapter in my life.

So many memories encapsulated in the outfits, so many stories to tell. Perhaps if you look through your wardrobe, you too might be transported back in time to places you have forgotten you have been. In the midst, a skeleton or two may well fall out of your closet.

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