Tuesday, July 31, 2012

 

Exactly Four Years Ago ( Leaving on yet another jet plane)

Later tonight, I am hoping onto the plane bound from Singapore back to Sydney.

 Again, I chanced upon this old entry.

How things only come full circle in exactly four years later.

I have finally found peace and looking back now, it has been a long journey.

Today I see light at the end of that dark tunnel.

 

Chuckles

 Just randomly clicked on an old blog entry.

It made me chuckle.

If only I didn't allow the Old Boy to come into my life in the summer of 2007, how life could have been so different.

I would be married by now, leading a charmed life, done well financially and perhaps would have had a cute Eurasian baby!;)

The what ifs and could have beens, together with a host of infinite possibilities!

 

Family

I love my family a lot.

My dad, my mum and my sisters.

We grew up surrounded by love. Too much love perhaps with an overbearing "helicoptor" mum and a kindly dad who doesn't speak too much about his feelings to us girls.

I like holding my dad's hand and I still do whenever we go out.

I don't think I spend enough time with them.

                                            ****

You know what they say about the choice of your life partner is likely to be similar to your dad (for a girl) and mum (for a guy)? He or she will tend to have similar traits to one of them?

I think it is very true.

You have only your parents to set the example.

Maybe that is why I don't want to get married.

Coming home and having to deal with some of their deep seated issues always remind me of the imperfection of human relationships. I always have to deal with them alone.

Marriage feels to me like a sealed fate.

Choose wisely, I have always remembered the words of wisdom from a Manila socialite.

Anyway, I may never make it there and have a family of my own.



Monday, July 30, 2012

 

Making Peace & Closure

Three years of waiting to come home and every night of thinking of him in Sad Town have culminated to this point.

I was anticipating my homecoming to Singapore to be a lot more exciting and our meeting ups to be more heart warming. He seemed rather excited when I first made the announcement that I was coming back- the places he could take me to dine and all. In fact, he was the first to reply all excited amongst my friends.

Of course, none of that happened. We saw each other twice briefly and each time, it made me realise that some things are best left as they were to four and a half years ago.

The Old Boy, naturally has had new play. I wasn't even going to try to outdo them. Maybe deep in my heart, I know it would be a futile exercise. I wasn't about to pit myself against his working girls. I never thought I was one of them. Jealousy has always been beneath me, which also happened to be the root (on his end) of how our affair had turned awry.

A couple of weeks ago, upon chancing on a piece of information, everything clicked in my heart. I got it.

If I had cried, I must have done it for a short while and as usual, into my pillow in the wee hours of the morning. Then I moved on and I finally understood this life lesson in my heart.

I now understood what he meant by the pain he felt akin to the knife I lunged into his heart  and then pulling it in and out several times upon learning about my betrayal.

I understood why he couldn't take me back and be intimate with me again. Just like how I see him a different man now that I know of his affair with his cousin's then girlfriend, who was a girl I was super chummy with. I have dispelled all erotic desires I have for him.

Perhaps we are even.

And still, he tried to be there for me and had blatantly hinted to me to lie to him about the nature of my affair with the nemesis being "involuntary" just so he could find it in his heart to take me back again.

                                                                           ****
A message mis-sent.

It was meant for a girlfriend.

I was still sleeping in the hotel room at the Marina Bay Sands and could not make it back in time to meet her. I texted that.

I had a very late night (or rather morning) with Shania, Photo and Gem.

Gem left for work. Shania and Photo were out running errands. Late check-out was requested on my behalf.

Sent to wrong person? So who you lying in bed with eh?:)

I was surprised with my mistake. Then came another text attempting to sound casual.

Hee hee. Pray tell. With whom? Eh?:) spill it. Guess u got yr mojo back eh?:)

How was I to get my mojo back seriously? All these years of wanting him and these three long years of my nightly routine where his name never failed to spring to mind as I lie in bed. Did he really think I would even check into a hotel with some random guy in the first place?

Why so mum? Come on. Wat else cud u be doing at mbs eh? 

What was I to say, really? He was still as suspicious as before. But why should he care?

I didn't tell him that during that night that Gem, who stayed up with me tried a couple of times to get closer and hold my hand. We slept next to each other on the chaise lounge (since Shania and Photo had usurped the bed and were fast snoring asleep) and I simply closed my eyes in the night and folded my arms as I sleep. I had to call it a night (although I was hardly sleepy) as I knew that Gem and I were not going anywhere that night, intimately speaking and I was conscious that this guy had an busy corporate job to go to in less than hours. I just wanted peace and had no desire to start an on the side affair and have new play.

If I had my mojo back, the Gem and I could have gotten it on in the massive bathroom where I could have many adventurous ideas of having some adult fun with him. I am sure Gem would not resist my spontaniety.

Instead, my mind was alert for the most part and I remained vigilant all night until I could hear all three of them snoring soundly.

                                                                            *****

The Old Boy had mentioned he likes Tim Tams.

I brought three boxes of double value packs worth of it back to distribute to friends and family.

On the two occasions we met, I didn't have Tim Tams on me.

On other occasions, he had mentioned that he could drop by my place as he was in the area, I was heading out.

Finally last Friday, I texted him about the outstanding biscuits and asked if he could drop by before 3.30pm to collect it from my house.

He was in the North side of town having lunch but will come by after that. I live in the East and it was not on the way.

But he turned up and for the first time, I invited him into my house although my mum was at home.

He declined but decided to come into my car porch since I did not want to stand outside his car talking to him in the sweltering heat.

 I was also dressed in very casual clothes (as I have been doing for the first time in my numerous visits home) and did not attempt to pretty up for him as I was wont to do.

We started chatting about his work like friends do. He hasn't been doing well at work with a particular colleague. Then we moved on to other small talk about why I extended my trip by another week.

Yeah, if you have nothing to do back in Australia, you might as well stay longer, he said.


I do have lots to do actually and poor DL is holding the fort on his own, I quipped in light-heartedly.

I noted that his expression shifted uncomfortably at the very mention of DL.

(It was just like the day at the Holland Village where he was with his pinoy girlfriend and I was initially there with Photo. I had said to Photo that when I get married, he will be hired as my photographer and I will be mad if he doesn't take it up or something along the lines. The Old Boy was quick to look at me and added.

We will be mad if you got married, P.

I pretended I didn't  hear him and moved on to another topic.)

I mentioned about how cheap Air Scoot has made coming back home a lot easier for me.

Hopefully, I could fit in a few more trips this year, I added.

Anyway, my next confirmed trip back was in 23rd February, I told him. This time with DL for two weeks, the second time home together in our twelve years of relationship.

He looked uncomfortable.

I reckon somehow we both know it would herald the end of our keeping in touch and a fresh beginning for me to work on my highly challenging relationship with DL. At least, I got one thing out of the way. I had made peace with myself with regards to the Old Boy. Maybe I would find my mojo back with my own boyfriend.


Perhaps today was the last day we were to see each other for the rest of our lives.

After ten to fifteen minutes of chatting, it was time for him to go. It was already 1.40pm and he had a 2pm meeting at the West end of town. He was going to be late.

I bidded him goodbye and asked him to get going. In my heart, I didn't have the yearning that I did in the past where I would plead, whinge and sulk my way for him to stay a bit longer for me.

Instead,  inside me, I just wanted to wish him all the very best, happiness and hopefully, peace in his heart finally.

I love this man for so long and still I continue to love him. But I have made peace. It was time I move on and find my own happiness and I hope this old boy would someday find his own happiness instead of leading a repressed and lonely double life.

I sent him out of the golden gate of my house.

We looked at each other and smiled. That old familiar smile of affection and sentimentality.

Take care, I said.

Ping me when you are leaving, he said softly.

I will, I said. I don't know if I would really. After all, I must get a going with my life.

When he got into the car, I stood by the gate and I blew him a kiss. He smiled at me affectionately, like he understood and appreciated my feelings for him.

We didn't hug this time. I remembered all too well the scene of October 2008 where I stood there whilst he hugged me feeling like my life was over and once, he left, the floodgates opened and I busted into a dam of tears.

This time, this was it.

Like the old song, Thanks for the Memory:

No tears , no fuss
Hurray for us.
Thank you
Thank you so much.

Four years on, I have finally let go.

No dramatic endings or exits.


Just what I need.

A most beautiful parting shot etched in my mind, just like the magical day where we set eyes on each other finally on a magical Friday night after at least five hundred lyrical email exchanges of our deep, dark secrets.
















Friday, July 27, 2012

 

The Meaning of P

Some of you who have been following my blog for more than half a decade and you might be wondering what P stands for.

So this is the unadulterated version.

It all first started with Dope. He gave me the nickname, Pretzel after witnessing my "unreal" flexibility in the Australian summer of 2000 at the beach. So that is where P came about.

Then over the years, P meant different things to different guys in my life:

Fat "Pencil" = DL
Polly = The Old Boy
Polly with the pearls (my signature choice of jewellery) = B (my best friend)

Perhaps pornstar to some?;)

Thursday, July 26, 2012

 

Time Check and Affairs

So I have been back in Singapore after three long years of hard slog with our business and life in general in Sad Town.

Lately, I have much time to myself and have started re-reading and trawling through some of my old blog entry posts.

I notice a pattern with some of the grey arrangements, flings and love affairs I had unwittingly got myself into . There was always those traits from these boys or men that has left me with a more lasting impression:

- Men in suits;
- Busy, super time poor corporate types;
- Financial services (usually);
- Always on standby to fly off to yet another meeting;
- Seemingly in control in their daily life;
- Often attached;
- Often cowardly in on-the-side relationships (Why play when one is so afraid of getting caught out right? I thought that was the whole exciting point then);
- Destination Singapore, Paris and Sydney (never in Sad Town).

Time was never our friend and as many of you know, I had to take one too a many rainchecks, I might as well have an affair with myself.

Ah well, water under the bridge now. P's life is a lot more settled (or is it really?) and less "colourful".

But anyhow, let us go down to memory lane where I would leave you with my all time favourite story so that you can go back in time to have a glimpse of a typical Friday night where I waited at the sidelines just to see if the Dope could make time for me so that we could re-live that bold, reckless and spontaneous now-and-here moment that got us first together and dawned the beginning of our grey arrangement on a lovely Friday night in the Spring of 2005.


 

Synergy

Harry and I have been friends since we were seventeen.

He was the ex-boyfriend of a good girlfriend of mine.

Strangely, we became better friends over the years and would catch up everytime I am back in town.

Harry viewed me as a buddy. We started partying together since we were seventeen, trawling the streets at night post parties until the break of dawn. We were young, fearless and carefree.

 I was the alpha female friend he has who got into many hapless love affairs. We used to talk about our flings and "conquests" and have had a good laugh over it. In fact, I went out with a number of his friends from school and uni so there were always common topics to laugh away.

Old friends have a way of lightening up my soul and putting a warm smile in my heart.

Like me, most of my old male friends have a superb memory so reminscing about our youth serves as a connection that bonds our friendship to this very day and a reminder of a time in our lives where we were young at heart, with not a serious care in the world.

And P's return continues to reinforce that. After all, P unlike many of their female friends is still not married, a spontaneous creature of the night and continues to retain the very same essence and consistency that led them to be thick as thieves from the youthful days. I continue to have a swinging bachelorette's soul.

I reckon for the most part I haven't changed- still as unjudgemental when it comes to one's love affairs and promiscuity, forever vain, always a good sport when it comes to taking a joke on myself and still as open a book as ever. The only thing that must have changed is that I am at least a good 10kg heavier. Heh!

Last Friday, Harry and I planned to meet up to re-live the good old days and party the night away.

We texted each other to discuss where we should head off to. Simultaneously, we came up with the same place- Zouk Wine Bar. During our youth, we spent many a Wednesday evenings at the Zouk mambo night dancing into the wee hours of the morning. Again, he was also a boy that I first met as a non-smoker who got into the nasty habit at aged 18 and never quite seem to completely get out of it.

When Harry finally picked me up in a cab, we laughed at the coincidence of our choice of the place for meeting and merry-making. Guess old friends often share a similar chemistry.

Our night was cut short ironically when we headed to the nearby whisky bar to join Harry's colleagues that the Old Boy and I were permanent fixtures to the joint many moons ago. The Old Boy's cousin has a share in the business.

Gem and Photographer came to join us. The night was curtailed as the Photographer suggested we go home. Harry was planning to join his colleagues for a big boy's night out at the KTV lounge as his wife was out of town.

As a good buddy should be, I let Harry join his friends for a night of "boys' fun" and dutifully went home with Gem and Photographer. I was first dropped off home by Gem followed by Photographer who lives a stone's throw from my house.

Of course, no action followed with Gem and there I resign to fate that some fun are meant to be dished out as single serves. After all, as back to Harry's male theory of "spreading one's seeds", a man's proposition of getting as many women into bed is a numbers' game. As an alpha female, I should know the rules of the game by now.



Wednesday, July 25, 2012

 

Era

Have you ever wonder if given a choice which era you would like to be born in?

Since I was a child, I was naturally drawn to all things old fashioned.

In my mind, I have missed the Golden Age of living.

I wish I grew up in the 1920s where women were first liberated from restrictive clothes and they wore beautifully hand beaded flapper dresses which matched their flat boyish figures and bob hairdos.  There were the big swing bands, the late night jazzy supper clubs and dancing, drinking high balls, gambling, slim cigarettes, black and white photography, sequins, feathers and the works.

What an awesome time to live for any modern lady to live. I have always been a lady of the night and I wish the party never ends.

I reckon if I get to go back in time, the 1920s all the way to the 1960s was where I belong.

1960s was the era of sex, drugs and rock and roll and the laxing of social taboos. I have always suspected I have a big heart and a pre-dilection for polygamy and free love. I want to love drunkenly and incessantly, make sweet love, work on my art of creating and writing and feel free.

In Paris, I spent many a time in the afternoons sketching or writing in my journal, reading Anais Nin at the Luxembourg Gardens (if I was not working my ass away in the atelier) and by night fall, we hung out at The Marais with the Chilean boys or friends took to hanging out at my eery-looking (with red chinese lanterns) bohemic apartment near the Monmarte drinking cheap red wine and smoking good weed that was smuggled back from Amsterdam by my friends and munching Marks and Spencer chips and lollies that I would bring back from my weekend trips in London. I felt that was so naturally me.

The year before, I travelled to Havana, Cuba alone and as I wandered through this old city rich with old Spanish Colonial architecture and vintage cars from the 1950s, I felt at one. Like somehow, I belonged here and I have been here before. I walked along the Malecon hand in hand with my half Cuban Chinese beau in the cooling night breeze and felt this flutter of life rekindled in my heart once more. Then there were the Cuban bands and the ceaseless flow of mojitos and cuba libres to keep my soul from feeling libre. I wish my life would freeze at that moment in time.

But the party must end and too my soul slowly whithers away and gradually, the petals of my soul clams up like a morning glory whose momentous joy and vibrance were short-lived.

I fall back into the pattern of mild melancholy within my heart but I am reminded that the show must go on. So I adopt that persona of Miss Sunshine which seem to enable certain type of male species to gravitate towards a supposedly charming P, only to allow my heart to become heavier at the end of each love affair...

Perhaps it is better to have lived  than never before...


 

Thoughts...

I have lots.

I don't know where to begin.

Singapore always leaves me with bitter-sweet memories.

Then my mind is racing faster than my entire being.

I find it hard to fall asleep or want to fall asleep.

There is so much to do, so little time.

I miss the bantering with my friends.

I love the fact that I feel connected to the world.

The ghost of the Old Boy is slowly and surely being put to rest.

I can feel that last Wednesday was the last day that I will ever see him in my life.

Banished away to the furtherest of my memory rather carefully lest a can of worms is unleashed once more.

If I hold the lid of his memory down with some resolution (but not trying too hard or being overly forceful on myself), I may eventually exorcise his ghost in my mind and heart.

I will make peace not by sheer will but from knowing that things have finally come full circle.

Then there is one.

My curiousity is getting the better of me.

I may not get to bid my time.

Time has never been my friend.

Dear oh Singapore, a place of temptations with cans of worms galore, a place I have carefully avoided calling home but still the prodigal girl returns each time only to leave a part of her behind.

Home is indeed where her heart is.


Tuesday, July 24, 2012

 

I'm Always Chasing Rainbows

Another song that often reflect my state of mind and the futility of my desires...


Judy Garland

I'm always chasing rainbows,
Watching clouds drifting by,
My schemes are just like all my dreams,
Ending in the sky.
Some fellows look and find the sunshine,
I always look and find the rain.
Some fellows make a winning sometime,
I never even make a gain, believe me,
I'm always chasing rainbows,
I'm watching for a little bluebird in vain.

 

Mr Tingles...

I lied.

I lied when I said I don't like to go to other people's houses when you invited me.

It is just that I had innocently accepted house invitations on many occasions only to realise my male hosts had other plans in mind. (Guys seem to think of P a certain way, perhaps because she likes to stay out late at night. P actually has a sleeping problem.)

Then I got myself into a situation. A rather hapless one, as you can imagined.

But Mr. Tingles, you actually gave me the tingles.

So yes, I would love to go to your house, play some sweet music, lie down, feel young again, get to know your art and soul and then let spontaniety take over.

Let's make a date.

 

Essence

Have you ever felt that no matter where your life experiences have taken you, slowly evolving your world view and outer persona, there are some things within you that would never change?

Dancer and I are of the kindred spirit.

We knew each other since we were twelve when I changed dance schools and joined his class.

I have known him for some twenty-one years now.

He was one of the three boys in our dance class. Being ever the sentimental love fool falling haplessly in love with one haughty girl in our class after another, he was at the beck and call of these girls who did nothing much but to bully and made use of him.

I was the new girl and naturally, I came to class feeling a little out of place. Most of these girls, about my age have been dancing together since they were three years old. As many would know, dance class is always a competitive playing field where dancers were subjected to the harsh  criticisms of their teachers and stiff competition amongst their peers. It takes a certain amount of self-esteem to survive dance class and fit in. I grew up being overly conscious about my figure and diet, which this painful art form will make you feel and remind you of your imperfections. There was always a need to strive for perfection in weight, form, shape and posture. By seventeen, I was popping diet pills and liquid supplements to boost my metabolism. It didn't help that my mum was just as vain and insisted we should be on a perpetual diet. By  twenty-one, I was popping prescriptive diet pills as the older sibling worked in a clinic whilst she studied her way to get into medical school. The side effects had a damaging on my health and I had to stop taking it.

In the first year at dance class, I spoke to no one and concentrated on my dance. I was an average dancer but with an exceptional gift at flexibility which saved my day. I was a rather pretty girl (I must admit, not trying to blow my own horn) and that helped to fall into favour with some of the teachers too.
 
My teenage years were spent going from one private tuition class to another after school. On weekends, I spent all my time training for dance where our classes ran from 10am to 6pm. If we were not doing ballet bar work, we would be doing Chinese dance and contemporary dance. After our one hour lunch break, we would have gymnastic classes where we had to work on our forward rows, cartwheels (with and without hands), handstands and somersaults or whatever we needed to do to strengthen our core muscles and improve on our flexibility. I actually enjoyed my gymnastic classes more so than my dance classes.

So back to Dancer and I.

Naturally, I gravitated to the most benign person in class.

Dancer and I got closer as friends as we spent a big part of our December school holidays in dance camps, training intensely like professional dancers. Our parents would drop us kids off at the dance school with our mattresses and leotards and tights (first time I had to do my own washing) and we would spend at least two weeks at the dance school starting our day at 7am and often ending at around 10pm to midnight, depending on our rehearsal and class schedules.

After a hard day of work out, us kids would continue gathering around to play cards and talk about our latest crushes. I was quite a story-teller and used to like telling my friends stories that I have created in my head. They would be so intrigued and would beg for more. But one by one, they would knock out  as the night stretched on and then it was always down to us two- Dancer and I.

We were always the latest to go to bed and being such lovelorn and love starved teenagers, the two of us would go on about our latest crushes and lamented about our unreciprocated loves. We were in the age of puberty around 13 and were beginning to be curious about the birds and the bees. Being the more worldly one as Dancer went to a neighbourhood school and had a young uncle around his age who was also involved in a secret society gang, he would let on what the boys did, providing me a range of "street smart" education ranging from smoking, shoplifting, fighting, masturbating, kissing etc. We would chat until our eyelids were so heavy that our voices trailed off and we would fall into a deep and blissful slumber.

When I was fourteen, I began to develop a crush for Dancer. I was excited to be lying on our stomachs side by side on our mattresses talking away whilst we swang our bent legs in the air and was hoping he would hold my hand. Alas, that didn't happen. He wasn't into me and was now interested in another girl from the upstairs drama class. We nicknamed her nine and a half (meaning 9 out of 10 in looks in Dancer's opinion).

So great friends Dancer and I were for many years. It was funny how we had shared many an emotional roller coaster together growing up and him seeing me in my most "naked" dressed self in such tight leotard and tights and me seeing him dressed in his tightest tights. My "imperfect" body was significantly exposed and as very critical individuals ourselves with mirrors everywhere and teachers to remind us on where we needed to work on our bodies, it could proved to be a very trying time for any body conscious teenager going through puberty. We went through lots of excruciating pain as we were pushed to perform the impossible and to challenged our flexibility to our utmost ability. There were lots of sweat, tears and bleeding (from en point shoes) so we had seen the "ugliest"of each other.

It must be during the dance camp where we were thirteen that Dancer picked up smoking secretly. He told me "Lucky Strike" was the cheapest cigarettes you could get and then I began to suspect he was smoking. Much later, a bunch of us girls smelled his cigarette breath and our teacher's daughter went to tell on Dancer. Dancer got a big tongue lashing by our teacher but still, he continued his smoking which eventually turned into a habit that stuck with him till today.

                                                                             ******

Last Saturday, Dancer and I met up. It has been a ritual for the past five years  when we got back in touch via Facebook. Everytime when I am back, we would make it a night where we would kickstart it with dinner, drinks, small talk and then karaoke. We would belt out all the songs with lyrics that resonate with our emotions at that point in time.

Dancer has a memory as good as mine, if not better. So we often spent the night reminiscing about the silly things we did in our youth well into the wee hours of the morning just like the good old days in camp. As adults, we continue to pour our salacious stories to each other- the affairs we have, the people who broke our hearts just like we were thirteen once more.

Dancer is now married to a woman much older than he is and they now have a pair of twin boys. It has been an unfulfilled marriage and being the man with a big heart with so much love to give, naturally, his life is fraught with one love affair after another. As usual, I am prone to melancholy (perhaps a lot better now) and pensiveness when we get together. We stopped judging each other for our life's misgivings and at best, proffer pragmatic advice for the other on how best to move on.

Twenty one years of friendship eh? we eyed each other affectionately, as old friends do.

We actually grew up together.

Still, we realised we were still one and the same. Forever nostalgic and sentimental- getting ourselves in one emotional tangle after another. Never quite ready to grow up in our hearts and always on the eternal quest for puer auternus.

Our essence remained one and the same. When we get together and stay up to talk about our new or old loves and simply the mystery of life in general, we could well be thirteen going fourteen our lives over again.

Cheers to many more years of friendship to come, Dancer!:)
















Monday, July 23, 2012

 

State of Mind

The song aptly sums up how I am feeling at the moment. I want to be young again. How I wish I have an accomplice-in-crime who will lie on our stomachs with me swinging our bent up legs freely on the fields where we can stare up at the stars and wonder about all the mystical things in life...


The Muppets
Rainbow Connection lyrics
Songwriters: WILLIAMS/ASCHER

Why are there so many songs about rainbows
and what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
and rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told and some choose to believe it.
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

Who said that every wish would be heard
and answered when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.
Look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us star gazing
and what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

All of us under its spell. We know that it's probably magic.

Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors.
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
It's something that I'm supposed to be.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

 

Yikes

So we got out of the toilet cubicles precisely at the same time.

There was a moment of awkwardness as our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror.

Strangely, she didn't say hi.

I proceeded to wash my hands at the sink. She attempted to fix her hair quickly without washing her hands.

Then she left the toilet without me.

I wonder what will the Old Boy make of it?

He can be quite the cleanliness freak at times, barring his pre-dilection for anal sex.

 

Tingles

Do you remember that tingly feeling when you had your first kiss or your first intimate encounter?

 I must be fifteen when I first got it. I lost my first kiss to a very undeserving boy whilst we stood on the breakwater by the beach. I don't remember any tingly encounters since.

Lately, someone held my hand as we walked by the beach. Let's call him, Gem. We stood under a tree and he wrapped his arms around me. I felt the tingles running through my body. Gem smothered my neck with tender kisses before our tongues interacted and we rubbed noses. He squeezed me tight at different intervals and I felt that warm and fuzzy feeling once more. He was very sweet.

I haven't felt physically connected to anyone in years and combined with various factors of the need to stay dutiful to a non-sexual DL and my post-trauma with the Old Boy that saw my libido dipping to zilch, I have been quite the sexual wallflower as a result. Any propositions coming my way have either been rejected by yours truly rather outrightly or simply executed (if it was an ex-fuck since I wasn't adding to my headcount, pun intended;))passionlessly.

I felt Gem's hard rod against my ass. That never fails to titilate a once wanton P. But I stopped myself short of unzipping his jeans as I would be wont to do in my good old days. Nearby, there were a bunch of Chinese young men and women playing by the sea. As you all know, I once relished in the knowledge that I may be seen by a group of potential voyeurs. The potential of getting caught out would served to heighten my lust and want for a lover. But now, I am a much more repressed and disciplined P.

Gem suggested it was time to take me home as it was late. I complied and we returned to the car. We kissed a little and he stroke my thigh. There wasn't further action and I wasn't taking any further initiative (which the once upon a time P would have lasciviciously suggest that they could up the notch and take their nocturnal activities elsewhere)so home we went.

To be honest, I would have been keen to take our activities slightly further and park our car in a more secluded place where I could sit on him and gave him the time of the day. After all, Gem is an attractive man who seemed to be passionate about life. I love a man with passion and lots of intelligence. I gravitate sexually to a man of this type. People who live and love life often tend to be ever the tender and sensual creature. I got the sense that Gem belongs to this type- and he is oh so my type in this sense!;)Plus he seemed to be quite the wordsmith. I missed playing electronic tennis and banter with an intellectually charged guy. P is so out of practice at the moment. I was also conscious of time- he had an 8am appointment and it was almost 5am. Anyway, nothing happens and home we went.

But I felt like we were high school sweethearts once more with his tender,squeezy hugs and sweet kisses. The tingles awoke something in my dormant soul.

I thought I would never find it again in this lifetime but I sure did and didn't see it coming for us. What a gem Gem is.

And the most magical thing was it was one of those Friday evenings where I wasn't expecting any action and voila, it came.


                                                                                       ******

Ironically, when we first got acquainted a few days prior to that very night, Gem and I went out for dinner. He got a little lost and strangely, stopped his car outside the said undeserving boy's house whom I had given my first kiss to. The first boy who gave me my very first tingles in my youth.

 

Missing in Action

 First of, for whoever is still hanging to read my blog out there, I am still alive. Thanks for checking back. I am back home in Singapore.

 Life as you know for P is not as exciting as it once was. So apologies to all the voyeurs out there hoping for me to spill the beans. Well, except yours truly have no beans to spill.

 I met The Old Boy a couple of times briefly since I was back. Always in a group and him with his illegal-Pinoy-immigrant-of-a-working-lady-19-year-old-girlfriend. Nothing new to me. She is likely to be a paid girl who would do anal sex for money so if you were to ask me how I feel, I feel nothing for the most part. The Old Boy is as sordid as I know him since half a decade ago.

However, last week whilst reminiscing through my wayward days and looking through my old blog entries, I chanced upon the very first comment The Old Boy left on my blog, which led me to his shady alleyway. And which many of you know, started our friendship that gradually morphed into a love affair. His blog site have been shut down for years so I wasn't expecting to find an active link, which this time round, led me to where his new life stories reside.

 Lo and behold, I chanced upon an interesting piece of news. His involvement with his cousin's then girlfriend in late 2008. A girl whom I was close with and who intially tried to patched things up for me and the Old Boy. I had my doubts about this girl a long time ago but that is another story not for another day (since I just want to quickly pen this down and move on FINALLY in my life). It felt like a big slap on my cheek.

2008 was the worst of my life. I was an emotional train wreck thanks to the Old Boy and my inability to move on. I went on my life pilgrimmage- did my meditation, travelled around Nepal and trekked up the Everest Base Camp to re-structure my life and to get over this sorry episode and mess I got myself into. I gave up my job and my sanity. To say the least, I felt betrayed by them both. So now,any ounce of sexual interest I have of the Old Boy is completely extinguished by this very knowledge. It took me four fucking years to get here.

Damn, he had been an impediment for my sensuality all these while. I hope to get my mojo back. Sorry it's a super crap post but just want to pen this down quickly and get over him already! It has been long overdue!

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