It's OK to date Mr RIGHT NOW because he could turn into MR RIGHT as long as his first name isn't ALWAYS...

All I ever wanted was you for me…

Love comes in the strangest form and often comes unannounced like an unwelcome guest. We all had our “ideal man/woman” and had a list of attributes (physical and otherwise) about what we wanted in that person. I’ve since learnt that you cannot really have a checklist of specific things you want your Mister/Miss Right to have. Firstly, even with six billion people in the world, the odds of you finding someone who fits that exact list is still pretty slim; Secondly, we never really know what we want till we experience it; Thirdly, we do not actually know ourselves or how our lives will turn out (with this person) and we’d still be discovering ourselves till the day we die. Fourthly, this is REAL LIFE and you do not always get (exactly) what you want.

I’ve always had the belief that it is ok to go out with MR. RIGHT NOW because he could very well turn into MR. RIGHT in the future. It’s hard to find the missing piece to your puzzle and to turn down any prospective piece just based on superficial knowledge is just plain over-picky. How do you know that “with trial” the piece could be shaped to fit into your puzzle? Nowadays, finding a partner requires some DIY customization; they do not come perfect upon first purchase. However, I do draw the line at dating the person if he’s first name happens to be “ALWAYS”.

Unfortunately for me, I not only fell for the guy who has settled very comfortably into a seemingly-permanent role of MR. RIGHT NOW but one whose first name happens to be “ALWAYS”. Yes, I royally screwed myself over (or maybe Life and the Fates had a hand in it) by going for MR. ALWAYS RIGHT NOW.

Cos’ that player who I’m with don’t give a f*ck about me…

I wish I could justify the (then temporary, now seemingly permanent) leave of my senses by saying it was just a brief flirtation that ended after a short fling. It’s been almost two years now and I’m still clinging onto the metaphoric Titanic of our relationship for dear life; not just clinging, mind you, but ignoring the passing rescue ships that have tried to haul me to safety (and sanity).

Let’s just say any attempts to walk away and move on to greener pastures have failed dismally. I suppose there are many shades of green in the world, but in my warped myopic mind, I have been moving onto shades of green that are more dung-brown than anything else. I once mentioned to a friend that often in Life, many marry to better their circumstances; otherwise, there is no point. Alas, if I could apply the same logic in choosing my potential Mr. Rights. Everyone has some semblance of preference in choosing a significant other; in my case, my type seems to be anyone who is “f*cked in the head” i.e. if you’re a bastard, I’m definitely interested. I know that I tend to do things in the extreme, but even I have to stop being so delusional one day, and realize that it’s not healthy to be with a “player who don’t give a f*ck about me”…

All I ever wanted was to be there for you…

Did I also mention that in my eagerness to show said person how much I loved him I have basically morphed into “Martha Stewart on crack”/ “Betty Crocker before the Betty Ford Clinic”/ “Every Fantasy Barbie”/ “Good P****** Wife”, etc. Basically, for this one person, I have aspired to great heights to learn how to be creative in the kitchen; tidy the person’s room every chance I get (like a good chambermaid at the Sofitel); offer to drive the person everywhere and almost developed an eating disorder and lost 14 kilos in the last year, just based on a comment he made in an extremely inebriated state. I’ve also stayed over the Christmas period two years running, instead of going home, in order to not miss his birthday.

Should we all shake our head in disgust and say that he’s an absolute bastard and doesn’t deserve me? Wrong…The shame lies on my part because he never asked me to do any of those things. I did all of it willingly because I wanted to show him how much I loved him. The word “blame” ends with the letters “M” and “E”; so, if there’s any finger-pointing to do, there is no one to point at but me, the one with the biggest dunce cap on.

If anyone has ever read “Why Men Love Bitches” or any self-help relationship books along those lines; you’d know that the first basic rule of a healthy relationship is that any relationship is about “give-and-take” between both parties; not one party giving, and the other just taking. No prizes guessing who decided to go with the latter definition of what “give-and-take” means.

Suffice to say, everything I did was not enough to make him give me more. At the end of the day, a person has to like you for who you are and not what you can offer in terms of “fringe benefits”. I suppose, one of the lessons I have learnt is that if a man really decided on life partners based on domestication, then, he is better off hiring a maid, then looking for a girlfriend/wife/life partner/significant other. And to give credit to the male species, they are becoming more adept at cooking/cleaning, etc for themselves (if they can move past the laziness) and do not really need a woman for all that.

Cos’ that b*tch who you with don’t give a f*ck about you…

Yet, a part of me knows that the man I’ve fallen for is superficial; I think the women he has picked over me has definitely proven that point. Beauty and physical attractiveness i.e. not being Tubby McFatty is something that does matter to him when he takes into consideration any candidates for a relationship. Am I a fool for then, deciding that I will do what it takes to give our relationship a real chance? I think I’ve done almost everything I possibly can already to try and win his heart based on very slim chances. Now that I know that being a few sizes smaller will give me a real chance, a large part of me is determined to lose that weight.

Call me crazy, but I cannot give up till I’ve exhausted all my options. Maybe he’s not worthy of the effort and maybe I should not be fighting so hard for something that appears “not to be” but I do know that for reasons unfathomable to me, my heart has chosen and I am willing to drop the pounds if it means I’d get the man my heart has set itself on.

I’ve probably contradicted everything I’ve written in the past before. But I do know that it is a harsh world that we live in and sometimes, it’s just easier to stop fighting the world and do something pro-active about correcting whatever it is that is causing you the greatest angst.

If Beauty is power, then, I’d be a fool not to do everything I can to maximize my advantages.

If I get my man, good for me; If I don’t, I did my best and I’d have my health…

Farewell, the old me. That girl leaves in one day and will not return the way she was.

A Girl Deserves More

When a GIRL is quiet ... millions of things are running in her mind. When a GIRL is not arguing ... she is thinking deeply. When a GIRL looks at u with eyes full of questions ... she is wondering how long you will be around. When a GIRL answers " I'm fine " after a few seconds ... she is not fine at all. When a GIRL stares at you ... she is wondering why you are lying. When a GIRL lies on your chest ... she is wishing for you to be hers forever. When a GIRL wants to see you everyday... she wants to be pampered. When a GIRL says " I love you " ... she means it. When a GIRL says " I miss you " ... no one in this world can miss you more than that. Life only comes around once make sure u spend it with the right person .... Find a guy ... who calls you beautiful instead of hot; who calls you back when you hang up on him; who will stay awake just to watch you sleep; Wait for the guy who ... kisses your forehead; Who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats. Who holds your hand in front of his friends. Who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you and how lucky he is to have you. Who turns to his friends and says, “That’s her!! "

Recently, the above was posted on my Fun Wall on Facebook… (Alas, yes, I am one of the mindless lemmings that have fallen into the sinkhole that is Facebook addiction.) I normally ignore things posted on my Fun Wall as they tend to be a version of SPAM mail but the above really caught my attention.

As mentioned before, the path of love never did run smooth for me. Then again, I am a drama queen so no surprises there. In any case, I recently attended a party where someone I used to be involved with, the girl who tried to wreck our relationship and the current “flavour du jour” in his life were all in attendance. I went with the idea that we were all adults and that I would be mature i.e. I would be civil to both the ladies mentioned above. Surprisingly, the relationship-wrecker was pleasant and made an effort to be friendly and we had no dramas with each other. Unfortunately, “Flavour du jour” despite being the oldest, had problems with acting her age (proving that age is never a true indication of maturity). She basically cut me point blank and gave me death stares all night. She could not even manage a simple polite “Hello”. I am guessing they ran out of simple courtesy the day she was hatched.

The rest of the party was not unpleasant for me - I had my own little fan club that tragically seemed to be in it mostly for my cookies; there was plenty of alcohol and other good company and a double apple shisha pipe set up - other than the few awkward moments when our paths would cross. It got to the point where the inner bitch in me was ready to snap and I was so tempted to wipe the smug smile off her face; all I had to do was tell her not to be too happy because he was cheating on her. Not that anyone who knew him would be surprised. I’ve known him longer than she has and he’s come running back to me more times than she’s been with him and yet she holds on to the delusional idea that he belongs to her. But I couldn’t do it because I knew she would be leaving and while it would give me great pleasure, it was not my place to be the one to break her heart or cause more trouble in their already shaky (loosely-defined) relationship.

Yet, as I stood there watching her with my feeling of smug superiority, I could feel the feeling fade as I realized to myself that I really had nothing to be proud of. So what if he has come running back to me many times? At the end of the day, I was still his dirty little secret in the entire duration of our relationship. Yes, he had the ability to make me feel attractive and desired at times but at the end of the day, I do not really want a guy who thinks I’m hot. I DO WANT someone who thinks I am beautiful just the way I am (both inside and outside), even when I have bed hair or sleep wrinkles on my face.

Nobody ever wants to be the other woman that a man cheats on his girlfriend with, nor does she want to be the ever-willing booty call for a total player…and yet, for him, I’ve been put in those roles. Yes, a mistress sounds like the sexy, glamorous one…But I’d rather have the "boring" security of being the publicly-acknowledged significant other in a Man’s life. I want to be not just #1, but the only one.

Simply because...as the commerical goes, I'm Worth It.

Fashion A.D.D

I am a serial cheater. The concept of fidelity is utterly foreign to me… when it comes to my wardrobe.

I have Fashion A.D.D. 80% of my wardrobe is less than 3 months old. Despite having a wardrobe and a whole spare room crammed full of clothes, I constantly lament that “I have nothing to wear”. The normal (logical) person’s purchase evaluation process typically follows the stages of information search, product evaluation (which includes price) followed by purchase. My purchase evaluation process is every marketer’s (specifically visual merchandiser’s wet dream): The typical train of thought for me is “Ohhhhh pretty!” followed by me blithefully taking it to straight to the counter for purchase, unless of course, I am distracted by some other shiny, sparkly thing. This results in me having items in my wardrobe that still have their tags on it. I fall instantly in love with a product’s presentation and purchase while still in a haze of infatuation and then, promptly leave it in my wardrobe with the other (past) objects of momentary desire. They lie there squashed and forgotten till it’s time for my spring clean (which generally happens every two – three months and conveniently around the time I run out of closet space).

I know it sounds like an extravagant waste for me to have such blatant disregard when it comes to spending (squandering) on clothes but I seriously have a short attention span when it comes to fashion. My commitment and level of faithfulness to my wardrobe is sadly not correlated to the price-tag of said items. I have days when my logic does not go on a vacation when I am shopping (though they are rare) where I try and justify the price and need for any item of clothing. Sadly, again, in my fashion-addicted (addled in the opinion of some); “need” is loosely defined as anything that I want or develop crushes on. Window shopping for me is buying everything in the window. I cannot live without fashion…I am nothing if I cannot be Barbie.

Do not get me wrong. I am not some brand whore who will only dress head-to-toe in labels. I may give many the wrong impression of being high-maintenance purely due to the creed I live by: “It is ok to be late for class but it is not ok to rock up without my make-up and hair done, dressed fashionably and finished off with a smashing pair of heels” but the truth is, I am a big fan of Target (mockingly pronounced as Tar-zhay) and Big W (for non-Aussies, it’s like Wal-Mart). The key to putting a look together in my opinion is in accessorizing. How you put together an outfit matters: with the right accessories, a $12.98 dress from Big W looks like it came from one of the high-end boutiques while a $1298.00 dress could look like an op-shop buy if not carried off well.

In any case, in my recent wardrobe clean-out, I finally decided to let go of some of my past neglected loves. It is often hard to let go of loved ones in our past, but sometimes, it is important to get rid of unnecessary baggage. So far, I’ve managed to clear out about two big suitcases of clothes and I am yet to start on my bags and shoes yet. I normally like to give them away to charity, specifically this women’s refuge my friend works for as I hope that in doing so, someone else will fall in love with them and they can move on to a more fulfilling relationship in which they are cared for. However, my daddy has recently informed me that my decision to remain in Australia after graduation is an indication to him that I’m all grown up now and no longer requires his support, and therefore he is withdrawaing his financial assistance. Hence, I have no choice but to play pimp this time and sell my darlings on e-Bay. *SIGH*

On the bright side, I now have more capacity to fall in love with others. Learning to let go is something that we often have trouble with, but when you have little expectations and learn to do what is right for you (despite the reluctance to let go of the past and/or accept change). There is a saying in Mandarin that translates into “If the old doesn’t go, the new doesn’t come”. Now that I have let go of the old, I have now been happily (well, not in the case of my bank account) adding to my collection of “Don’t be jealous I’m hot, Bitch”. Recent additions include a gorgeous Alannah Hill Couture dress that will be spending a memorable night with me at my graduation dinner along with a beautiful Cue dress in a striking magenta that squeezes my coke-can bottle into the illusion of a coke-bottle that I will be debuting at my Office Christmas party among others. The best part is, they, unlike their predecessors, do not say “It’s Vegas, Baby” or “I work on King Street (for non-Melbies, King Street is the stretch where you’d find all the strip joints or so-called gentlemen’s clubs)”. I am very pleased because in contrary to popular opinion, I am not “Every Fantasy Barbie without the Blonde Hair” nor do I aspire to be “Paris Hilton but smarter”. (No offense to her as I think she is smarter than given credit for.)

Sometimes, in the most frivolous, trivial and small things in life, you learn valuable lessons. About a month ago, I was unable to let go of a past love the way I was unable to get rid of a gorgeous but useless dress from my collection. But circumstances made us part ways (by the former’s choice and by the untimely demise of the latter fashion past paramour of mine). It wasn’t easy but I learnt to live without either. Yet, a month after the former told me to “eff off”, he was the one who contacted me and said he missed me. As with my former fashion paramour, I was recently given a much better replacement for it. Similar but improved; just as reconciliation with the past love is on favorable terms for me.

Disillusioned with the male species: I need to start having lesser faith in them.

Men are Mars, Women are from Venus. It’s such an understatement. I swear, as long as I’m concerned, we might as well be from vastly-different far-flung galaxies. Yes, I know that modern society has seen a convergence in male/female behavior when it comes to traits that were once mutually exclusive to each sex but at the end of the day, call a spade, a spade.

I admit that at this point in time, I am perhaps not at my most rational and is feeling rather incensed at the opposite sex. Perhaps it’s just bad timing or maybe bad things are meant to happen in threes but in the past two days, I’ve had three unpleasant encounters with friends of the opposite sex that has left me with a somewhat irrational conviction that the opposite sex are all (Insert your favorite derogatory term). I know it’s unfair to generalize but at this point, I am beyond weighing out the validity or fairness of such a sweeping statement.

I’m not saying that I’m entirely blameless at all but sometimes I wish that bad things wouldn’t happen all at once and leave you feeling like you’re trapped in a rapidly-enclosing ring of fire with no chance of escape.

I am not feeling at my best at the moment; I recently had a falling out with a cousin who often blows hot-and-cold with me. I suppose I am tired of her treating me like crap and thinking that she is entitled to it because she’s older. I don’t think anyone deserves to be treated like a human substitute for an emotional punching bag, even more so if it concerns blood.

If that wasn’t enough, I get a call from a friend, whose callosity has been a constant bone of contention, who as usual, managed to be insensitive and annoying without even trying.

Monday being the start of a new week was no indication of a fresh (and better) start: a good friend of mine and I had a miscommunication problem due to a cultural and language difference. Ultimately, the frustration of being misunderstood left me in tears which infuriated me further.

Needless to say, I was, at this point, pretty much feeling that I had hit rock-bottom but of course, Murphy’s law requires that fate should kick a dog when it’s down, and my hopes of salvaging what was left of the night with plans to hang out with a friend fell through as said person ended up blowing off plans with me after pushing plans back for the third time… Maybe I was putting way too much stock on it but being blown off just felt like utter rejection. I know I am not his girlfriend and cannot expect (reasonably) to be his op priority but when I show the value I place on our friendship by setting time aside to spend time with a friend, I do not think it is unreasonable to expect some measure of the same respect in return. I was basically left feeling like I was not even on the list of consideration of priorities at all, which is not a good feeling for a friend to feel.

If I were to be perfectly honest, I would say that I was especially upset because this friend and I had only recently started talking again after a month of "walking away from each other" and I suppose, his decision to make the first move to reconcile had left me with false hopes that maybe this time round, he would treat me a little better. It has not even been a week and he's already showing signs that " a leopard never changes its spots".

I suppose if I hadn’t already had such a bad day: feeling entirely misunderstood, wretchedly tired and just in need having one person who didn’t seem to be “hating on me”, I would have been less sensitive and not taken it so hard but unfortunately, it was just one of those days where you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. It is probably sheer coincidence that all my run-ins happened to be mostly with my male friends (given the higher proportion of male friends that I have) but it still left me feeling very much like a “man-hater” and wishing fervently that the Amazons were the dominant race.

My cousin (a girl) was nice enough to listen to me rant and rave; she even accompanied me for a midnight trip to the pancake place so that I could “comfort eat” away my disgruntlement and I do sort of feel better now that I’ve had a(n unneeded) sugar and fat fix.

But as it always is with me, I had an epiphany along the way… One of the reasons why a lot of girls feel the need for a boyfriend is because when you’re feeling crap and like nobody cares about you, your boyfriend is the most probable person who will think you are perfect the way you are and is the most likely person to tell you: “There, there…It’s all going to be ok.” I know we all have friends who can fulfill the same role but I guess it’s just never quite the same as having someone making you feel like you’re number one, especially if someone else has made you feel that you aren’t a priority at all.

Sometimes, it really does not matter if you do countless good things everyday that goes unnoticed…all it takes is one bad thing to happen (unintentional or otherwise) and suddenly, all eyes are on you and the fingers are pointing accusingly. And the worst is when you're too tired to even argue any more.

Watching Stars without you, My soul Cries

Pride can stand a thousand trials
The strong will never fall
But watching stars without you
My soul cries

Once I dreamt of forever with you but the tides of change came and swept those romantic idealisms away and now, I’m left standing alone; wandering if maybe pragmatism was a plain mistake…

Yesterday, my brother took the plunge and signed up for the ol’ “ball & chain” and he did it on a bended knee and a big silly grin on his face. I suppose, to those who are still running away from any semblance of commitment, especially in the relationship department, my brother’s actions are akin to that of an innocent man willingly stepping before a firing squad or signing your own death sentence. To be honest, I think like all girls, it’s been ingrained into me that there is a certain age when the biological clock starts ticking (in overdrive) and society (specifically your family) starts nagging at you to start showing signs of settling down and finding a significant other. Of course, once you get there, a whole new round of nagging starts on the subject of marriage and eventually, children. Oh…if only we could just split down the middle like amoebas and avoid the whole nagging process. But then again, I would have to be honest and say that there are other benefits to not being asexual like the amoebas. (Yes, I have a filthy mind, or rather, YOU have a filthy mind…)

In any case, my brother’s engagement has left me feeling nothing but the greatest joy for him and for my new future sister-in-law but their engagement does add another number to the growing tally: My cousin (and God-brother) is getting married in May next year; I recently attended a friend’s engagement dinner (last week) and the wedding is in October next year (of which, I am the Maid of Honour); during the winter break in July, I attended a friend’s wedding and other engagements and weddings that have happened in the past year or so… Suddenly, it seems like my “nearest and dearest” have suddenly succumbed to the “wedded bliss” mania and have started a sprint down the proverbial church aisle in a pattern that is beginning to resemble a mass migration pattern. For the single girl like me, it does not bode well at all… (even if I am getting to the age where all my peers are starting to pair up and making it legal)

Amidst the girding of my mental health against the nagging attacks I fully expect when I do return to Singapore for a well-deserved break after being done with Uni (forever! Or for the near future…), I started an unintentional meander down Memory Lane and was brought back to a time when I too, felt a similar mien to everyone else on the “Wedding Race”. Of course, I was young(er) then and did not think too much about marriage beyond the big frou-frou wedding and 21 is too young (for me anyway) to be wed. Still, the pain of calling off a wedding is still significant, even if you are the party responsible for being the “love-wrecker” but I still stand by “better the love-wrecker than the love-wrecked”.

In any case, I digress…

I found myself reminiscing about a time when love to me was young and idealistic and I lived for the day when I would put on that white dress and walk down the aisle and become Mrs. So-and-So. To be very honest, the engagement ring probably left the strongest impression in my bling-obsessed Mynah-like mind but the memories of feeling like you have found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with did come creeping back into my subconscious like a cheating husband sneaking home to bed. I remember a diary entry I wrote just after we had ended things and the feelings were still raw; Oh! How in love I (thought) I was then…

July 10 2005


How do you know when you’re in love with someone?

When you pray more for that person than you do for yourself;
When that person is away from you for more than an hour, you miss them.
When you carry that person in your soul everywhere you go.
When they smile, you feel that your world is going to be fine.

On the way back to Singapore, I caught a movie called ‘Diary of A Mad Black Woman’. I loved it. It was a really powerful and emotional drama that really caught my heart. It was a movie that made me cry at parts. A vacation is something you go on to relax yourself. But sometimes, when you’re relaxed, it gives yourself time to think.

I’ve had a lot of time to think and what troubles me is that you are constantly in my thoughts. Mostly, I guess because Japan was one of the places we were going to visit together. I remember how we used to speculate if the both of us could pass for locals in Japan because of our small eyes. And it happened. I was mistaken for a local twice while I was there, and each time I thought of you.

It rained for the first three days that we were in Kyoto. The tour guide told us a little anecdote about how her grandmother used to be happy when it rained because she could walk under an umbrella with her husband in rain rather than three steps behind as was the usual custom. She also told us about how drawing an umbrella with a guy’s and girl’s name written under it was a popular graffiti design among youngsters as a symbol of their love. All of these little tales only led me to thinking of you more. I remember an incident last year in Melbourne. It had started raining heavily while we were out and we were sharing an umbrella. It was really gusty and you held the umbrella with one hand while you put your other arm around me so that we would fit better under the umbrella. Thinking back of that incident makes me melt inside because I remember how concerned you were about making sure that I didn’t get wet.

In Osaka, a visit to the Kaiyukan Aquarium brought more thoughts of you rushing into my heart. I saw a very young couple in the aquarium on a family outing with their toddler. The guy kinda reminded me of you and how scarily close we came to being them. It also reminded me of the time we went to the Aquarium in Sydney. It was one of the most fun-filled days of my life, walking around Darling Harbour pretending to be tourists and just being silly and having fun. When there were more laughter than tears and there were no damning silences.

In Tempozan Village, I rode the Giant Ferris Wheel. As we rose higher and higher in the air, I got scared but even as I reached out for your hand to hold, a part of me realized that you were not there. Not like the last time we went to the amusement park, and you held my hand instinctively before I could reach yours, and without making fun of my silly fear of the Ferris Wheel.

At the Floating Garden Observatory, I felt like I was on top of the world. Seeing the rest of Osaka spread out beneath me. As the sun set in the sky, I felt a sense of calm and peace overcome me. I felt how it was to be a small organism in a vast world. Mostly, I felt a sense of freedom and exhilaration. And underneath it all, I instinctively thought of you first and how it never bothered me how big and scary the world was, as long as you were there with me throughout it all.

Wherever I went, it evoked memories of you and the instinct of how much I would have loved to renew old memories and share each new experience with you…

All these memories of our past
Linger in my heart
Unwilling to let go of what I hold dear
Thoughts of you follow me constantly.
Wondering all the time if I was wrong
Is this love or residual feelings?
I’m so confused.

Missing you, needing you.
Not knowing what I really want;
How do I live without you?

Present Day Thoughts: But Life did go on and 2 years on, I made it without him. Qui Vivra Verra; C'est La Vie.

Special in HIS eyes

On 6 June 2005, I experienced my first pain of true heartbreak. Not the insipid self-pitying bouts of teary fits that one goes through with each unrequited crush, but the kind that strikes you with little warning or fanfare. On an ordinary day with no extraordinary circumstances. Like a undetected time-bomb that had reached 00:00, the deceptively fragile walls surrounding my heart shattered and I lost the veil of denial and suppression that had been cloaking my emotional realm.

8.24a.m on a wintry Melbourne morning, waiting at Tram Stop 127 on Lygon St for Tram No. 1 to take me to the Examination Venue for my Financial Accounting paper. There was nothing particularly abnormal going on beyond the usual stress, tiredness and general grouchiness that cloaks one in a coiling miasma of doom and gloom. I had my iPod turned up loud as I attempted to drown out the chaos of the real world; in the midst of listening to Mr Richard Lee drone on about the merits of the various accounting compliance practices, something in me snapped at his 19th incantation of "self-governance"; if I was a frail old biddy named Minnie living in Victorian times, one could say that it was the moment my "nerves were shot".

Till today, I still have not pinpointed the exact reasons for my unforseeable (and definitely undesired) emotional meltdown. It could have been the stress of my course load during my final semester of my B. Comm (Accounting); it could have been the miserable winter dreariness; it could have been the general feeling of isolation and increasing apathy I was cultivating...whatever the reasons, they weren't new symptoms that were drastic enough to evoke such a reaction.

Suffice to say, I have no recollection of taking my Financial Accounting Paper and am still in awe of the fact that I not only managed to fill an exam scriptbook for such a mind-numbingly boring subject but actually managed to do it with adroitness. The ensuing days were a convenient blur and the jury is still out on whether I actually managed to recover fully from that episode.

In any case, writing has always been one of the outlets that has provided me with the means of catharsis without ever having to face the embarrassment of actually having to show any sign of weakness to anyone of my acquaintance;at my darkest moment, when there seemed to be no one to save me from drowning in a sea of my own self-induced abyss, I took a stab at throwing myself a life-line. Whatever I poured out that night to the white screen of my computer must have worked because I'm still here today blogging about it.

Two years, five months and 3 days later, that little piece of work surfaced just when I (unconsciously) needed it. I stumbled upon it while cleaning up my external hard-drive. The foolish girl who first authored it is not quite the same one anymore (and is hopefully less foolish) but the strength and hope I drew from it then is still valid in the current circumstances:


And we know that all things work together for good to them that love GOD, to them who are called according to his purpose.

-Romans 8:28

It’s a feeling that constantly resides in me: this feeling that in a world full of sparkling diamonds, no one will notice a dull, unpolished stone like me. It’s a feeling that I battle constantly. It’s as if I am unable to accept it as my lot in life and often, I fight desperately to steal some of the limelight while others gain it effortlessly; so passed my growing years. Part of growing up is not just being self-aware but being aware of your surroundings, it is only when you learn that there are others in the world more important than you, that you truly learn to be gracious about your lot in life. There are six billion people in the world and not everyone can be in first place; learning to accept that you’re not meant to be first is a first step into not feeling inadequate constantly. If I never come first in anyone’s life, I will appreciate the fact that I know there is someone out there who holds a special place in his heart for me; GOD.

Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust in him; and he shall bring it to pass.

-Psalms 37: 4,5

It’s not always easy to accept that you’re ordinary because everyone likes to believe that they are special in their own way. I’ve tried fooling myself with that but I realize striving to find something special about myself only leaves me feeling more inadequate and inferior when I realize that I am not special in that area. So, here I am, learning to accept that I’m average. All I ever really wanted was to be special in someone’s eyes. Maybe I went looking in the wrong places because in every place I looked, all I found was that someone else had already occupied the special place that I thought was meant for me.

Jesus said unto him, if thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.

-Mark 9:23

Somewhere out there, there is someone who likes me for me. Somewhere out there, there are many others who are not meant for me. In life, I will meet many people; people who will warm my heart, people who will break my heart. Even if I think I’ve met the right one, God may think otherwise. Truth is, nobody really knows what the big scheme of life is. But you can’t give up because you are scared of being hurt.

Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

-Philippians 4:6-7

I’m not shy to admit that in life, I’ve met with many disappointments. I’m battle-worn with emotional scars, both old and new. Some took a long time to heal, some healed quickly. Even some that never really healed at all. But I won’t give up the good fight so easily. I’ve cried, I’ve questioned, I’ve rend my soul a thousand times; pouring out endless sorrows and woes into a journal that no one will read. Yet, at the end of the day, I go back to the one source that gives me the greatest comfort- God. And I ask Him to heal me where I have been unable to patch the wound myself and He hasn’t failed me. The spoils of victory aren’t always what we have our eyes set on. But if you open your eyes wide, you’ll see that you have not fought for nothing. Along the way, you reap rewards that you may have been too myopic to notice but they are there. Some are intangible and invisible to the naked eye, but if you listen to your heart and what God puts in there, you will see that all is not lost.

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.

-Isaiah 26:3

And I am humbled by how GOD has given me so much, even though I give Him so little of myself in return. Of all the times I have disappointed God, but yet, he has never ceased to love me unconditionally: the times when I accused Him of not being there for me, when he has been. In His infinite wisdom, He knows when I am ready and sometimes, there are lessons to be learnt. If I learn to accept his will without question, I would be better off. I’m not perfect and I’m still learning but I know, He’ll always be there for me.

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be trouble, neither let it be afraid.

-John 14:27

With so much on my plate right now, I haven't had time to actually slow down, catch my breath and evaluate the emotional state I am in; studies, exams and work have taken over my life. But while I had forgotten about myself, there was still somone out there watching over me and when He saw me getting increasingly lost in the darkness, He sent a little flicker of light my way to show me that I was never truly alone.

Faith is a funny thing...you never truly know how strong it is till your instincts kick in.

Veritas vos liberabit (The Truth will set you free)…

I have learnt instead, that its ugliness will suffocate you. One word packs sufficient potency to bring the fragile walls you put around your heart crashing down. And the only person you can effectively blame is your own self.

I have lived in a state of denial for a long time. I allow myself to believe the pithy excuses I’ve been given; rationally, they would have held up like a ra-ra skirt on a typical Melbourne Winter day but the mind (or more specifically, the heart) hears what it wants to hear. I suppose I have been hanging onto the tattered remnants of the past. If I have been living with false hope, it was certainly not from external encouragement.

I have never understood how it’s always good with men up till the moment they leave you. One minute, you’re laughing together and painting a picture of forever and the next, he’s gone, and it’s as he was never there at all, except for the burning imprint in your heart. Forgive me my generalizations but there seems to be a general modus operandi for men to leave as fast and as far as they can when a relationship is no longer perfect bliss.

I suppose it should not come as a surprise. He never loved me and never claimed to. It was I who was constantly searching for any clue that he could feel more for me; anything that would alleviate me from the status of “glorified booty call”. Yet, I still pushed. I demanded reasons for why he couldn’t (or more aptly, wouldn’t) consider taking things further with me. The reasons I got were typical: he was not ready to have a relationship, etc.

So, you can imagine my immense hurt to hear him refer to his latest “bit of fluff” as his GIRLFRIEND. He told me it was just fun; that she was leaving at the end of the year, so there was no long-lasting relationship there. LIES… I know his defense will be that circumstances change but it does not make it hurt any less for me. Nothing can soften the blow of knowing that there was nothing I could have done to have made things worked for us.

I’ve quoted Oprah Winfrey before:

“If a man really wants you, nothing can keep him away; if a man does not want you, nothing can make him stay.”

Sunt facta verbis difficiliora (Works are harder than words): It is easy to dish out platitudes but it is extremely difficult to practice what you preach. I did everything I could to show him that I could be the perfect girlfriend for him but like his friends told me, the issue was not my eligibility as a girlfriend but rather the fact that he would not make me a good boyfriend. You cannot make someone love you, no matter how much you try. That being said, sometimes, you do not have to do anything to make someone love you. It just happens. You are loved just the way you are. I know many people who would be letting out a cynical laugh as they read that last line.

After all, we all know that it is a “fact of life” that Varium et mutabile semper femina (a woman is always a changeable and capricious thing): women spend their whole lives searching for that perfect man and (if they are lucky) they marry him; they then spend the rest of their lives trying to change him. Women never really outgrow their love of playing with dolls. In this situation, boyfriends/husbands/significant others/partners become their KEN Dolls except that love allows them to do a holistic overhaul of said subject to suit their idealistic fantasies.

Yet, let’s not give women such a bad name. Yes, women do tend to harbor such characteristics but women exhibit behavior on the other end of the spectrum: “Is it (insert imaginary flaw)? I can change!!!” We’ve all heard (or used) that expression before. Three words that spell out the desperation of a woman in love: I. CAN. CHANGE. Does that not then defeat the purpose of what we define true love to be? TRUE LOVE demands loving someone the way they are. O sancta simplicitas (O sacred simplicity)…if only love and the matters of the heart were that simple.

We are people. We fought our way to the top of the food chain and we consider ourselves civilized because we communicate vocally and set rules for society to follow. But ultimately, the basic human instinct follows the laws of nature. Men are territorial and they will fight to guard what is theirs. On a similar vein, the spoils of victory cannot be savored unless a war is fought. Maybe it is a trait not as dominant in the present as it was with our ancestors but it does still remain a part of a Man’s DNA. Again, the basic law of Human Nature applies: Qui multum habet, plus cupit (He who has much desires more): we want what we do not have.

I was an easy mark. He never had to fight for me. He knew I was interested and I caved in way too early and easily. He had me, he had his fun and he got over me just as quickly. Pure and Simple? Perhaps to his male logic, it was; but in my female (complicated) mind, things just do not end (resolve) themselves so easily. When he walked away from me, I chose to play the martyr/victim and say that he was a bastard for treating me in such a manner and being cold-hearted in walking away. I am not saying the guy was the perfect gentleman or an angel but I have to admit that that is the usual modus operandi for most men: when you do not feel for the girl (or in his case, she has served her purpose), you walk away. If I were to be honest, I wish I could be more like a man in that aspect. To be able to walk away without first having to spend forever living in the memories of the past and the land of “what-could-have-been” and “if only”.

If it were only him, I could write this phenomenon off as a one-off and I would not be sitting here at four in the morning on a Saturday writing this; I should be summoning up the strength to undo the straps of my impossibly-high heels, taking off my make-up and hobbling on numb feet to my bed, exhausted after a big fun night out. My little escapade with Rebound guy ended on a similar note and the guy I was genuinely interested in after him went down the same path; Hinc illæ lacrimæ (Therefore these tears).Once is an accident, two a coincidence but three? It’s a conspiracy or rather to sound less paranoid (and more normal), there is a pattern beginning to emerge. Nemo sine vitio est (No one is without fault): Let’s not be a pompous, arrogant fool and say that I am blame-free but let’s also give one to the self-esteem and self-confidence department by admitting that maybe, just maybe…there is the remote possibility that it’s not all me.

“Marry in haste, repent at leisure”

I swear, it has to be one of the most ridiculous phrases I have ever heard. Marriage should not be entered into lightly. Desperation is in truth, not a valid reason to swap your maiden name for his and sign up for joint accounts. We all know someone whose choice of a life-partner continues to leave us bemused; I can assure you that when you ask someone incredulously why she married the fella, one of the most probable (and common) answer you’d get is “She turned 30 (or insert appropriate age milestone.” Crudelius est quam mori semper timere mortem (It is crueler to always be afraid of dying than to die): fear of spinsterhood (loneliness) spurs women into drastic action. Yes, like all little girls, I have dreamed of the perfect wedding but marriage is not just about the frou-frou white dress; the chance to make your best friend wear an ugly dress she’d never wear again just to make you look beautiful; the romantic church ceremony; the glitzy dinner or any of the superficial things.

Marriage is forever. It is built upon the foundations of love: Omnia vincit amor (Love conquers all); but most significantly, it is about commitment. What is commitment? Is it being able to stay faithful to someone in a long distance relationship? I suppose it could be. But to me, true commitment is waking up and seeing the same person brush his teeth every morning for 30 years (or however long you live after marriage). Marriage is not about the blissful romantic moments or the occasional fights. It is about being able to live with the person everyday in ordinary circumstances without feeling like you want to tear your hair out and run screaming through the streets.

Si vis amari, ama (If you want to be loved, love).We all want to fall in love and marry the perfect man (or woman). But the two do not necessarily come in a package: we do not always love the perfect person for us. For reasons we can never fathom, love comes in the strangest places and sometimes, Nondum amabam, et amare amabam (I did not love, even if I yearned to love):we can try our hardest but feel no passion for the perfect man (or woman). He/she may possess all the qualities we look for in a mate but if there is no chemistry, there is nothing there. Yet, we can love someone who is not quite right or totally wrong for us; movies and songs center around this theme of loving the wrong person and the resulting heartbreak.

I do not advocate marrying the “safe choice” or saying that the only marriages that will work are the boring, vanilla relationships. Security, faithfulness, trust, commitment and love are the tenements of marriage. But that is not what I am arguing about today. There are two kinds of people in this world: the ones who find love permanently and those who are meant to be alone. I feel that many women fear the latter greatly and hence, enter into marriage posthaste to avoid facing their phobias.

Non nobis solum nati sumus (We are not born for ourselves alone): The thought of marriage and the need to be with someone is genetically-ingrained in me hence, my constant laments over my perpetual state of singleness but I am beginning to learn that being alone does not necessarily mean being lonely and jumping from one hot frying pan only to land in another does not help to make you forget your initial woes; you just create more.

My opening statement is a phrase that is oft-used in the English language but what not many people know is that its origins come from the Bible:

“If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (John 8:31-32)

The truth WILL set you free. If the set conditions are met: you need to know it, believe it and accept it. Otherwise, the truth loses all significance. I know the truth -even if tragically, it had to be learnt the hard way but then again, Quae nocent, docent (What harms, teaches). I am making headway in believing the truth given that it is hard not to when the evidence for the case it is building up to grows each day (that and the therapy sessions I’ve been through). But I am so far from acceptance that I cannot even fathom a light at the end of the tunnel.

Video meliora proboque deteriora sequor (I see the better and acknowledge it, but I follow the worse). This, unfortunately, is the reason why the ugliness of the truth suffocates me.

Yet, Dum Spiro Spero (When I breathe, I hope). Stat sua cuique dies (The date is set for each and everyone): I believe my day (of acceptance) will come and Forsan et hæc olim meminisse iuvabit (Perhaps even this one day will be pleasant to look back on) and if I am lucky, Suum cuique (To each what he deserves): the right one will come along for me and Karma will finally come around to bite him on his ass.

P.S: If this post sounds as if I have had a Latin dictionary grafted onto my brain, I do
apologize but I was tickled by the notion of Omnia dicta fortiora si dicta Latina
(Everything sounds more impressive in Latin).

The Lingering Past of a Love Masochist

I didn’t forget about you. It was just easier to stop talking about you…

We all make mistakes or do things we’re not proud of but what if, as much as you try, you are unable to bury it in the past and let sleeping dogs lie? After all that’s been said and done, you would think that there was nothing left to resurrect. It is the hardest thing to move on just because the other party has, and not because you’re ready. I think my biggest fear is that I will never be able to move on, at least, not for a long time.

Everyone has that one person who blew into their life like a storm (and blew out leaving an equally catastrophic aftermath) and stirred up feelings in them that they never knew existed; someone who inspires you to do things you never thought you’d do or say. Being involved (or in my case, falling in love) with this person, is like opening Pandora’s Box: once opened, you can never go back. The status quo is irrevocably changed and very likely, not for the better.

I loved with a passion and we fought with a passion. I went through the many stages of trying to define my relationship with this person and till this day, there is no neat little compartment to categorize it. All the scattered emotions are still flung about willy-nilly, flooding the surrounding areas with grey and I believe, try as I may, there will never be a black-and-white delineation to define what it was that we had and what it is that we have now.

Perhaps all this drama is to some extent, self-inflicted. The fault lies on my part for being unable to let go of what I (may never have had and) so obviously have lost. Why is it so hard to let go of this romanticized ideal that I seem to so stubbornly hold onto of what I imagine our relationship should (or would) be like. Perhaps, it is the basic laws of Human Nature: You want what you cannot have. This person has demonstrated to me on many occasions that I cannot rely on this person or expect this person to ever set me as a priority and yet, given the opportunity, I crawl back to this person, swallowing my (towering) pride on every occasion, hoping to win this person back.

The pathetic part of this entire situation is that I am not doing this because I have no other options. I seem to be doing it out of a masochistic need to put myself through the wringer of love every single time. I have given my all in trying to tear myself out of this piteous scenario and to some extent, I have been successful in opening myself to new opportunities but if I had to be honest, I’d have to say that these distractions are merely temporarily. At the end of the day, I know that this person is my “one and only”… But I will never have him (or the chances are as slim as an African-American deciding to join the KKK).

On the surface, it appears as if I have moved on to greener pastures; I smile, I laugh, there is no awkwardness when I am asked about the situation between the both of us but the truth is, silence does not mean erasure, it’s mere suppression as my ego (viciously) makes me swallow my true feelings because it is better to suffocate the soul than admit the shameful state of things. I will kill myself before I will admit that the state of things between us is not fine.

The logical solution is to walk away and make a clean break. I wish it were that easy. All relationship self-help books will tell you to do this but sometimes, I wonder if these authors really know how hollow these platitudes sound; it is easy to sit on your lofty laurels and smile smugly as you dispense advice that is never self-followed or is irrelevant to your situation. I am a moth to this person’s flame and I think human nature (and the stubborn fool that I am) is such that the proverbial child will have a burning desire (pardon the pun) to play with fire when told explicitly not to.

Like any other female whose emotions are tied to the hormonal roller-coaster of my DNA and biological cycle, my self-esteem goes through the yo-yo stages of alternating between loving the person I am and self-loathing. I can guarantee you that every female (and males as well) go through days where they put themselves through a sadistic self-torture of feeling like they are ugly, pathetic, fat and that no one will ever love them or they do a self-evaluation and wonder why no one wants them even though they feel that they are not a bad person.

Women excel at this. I can safely say that a large proportion of women have been in the circumstances where they have passed a seemingly unattractive woman (as compared to themselves) on the street with an attractive man and wonder how come that woman has found someone and they haven’t. Of course, she will feel bad for being so “superficial” and the old “maybe she’s a wonderful person and he cares about more than looks” theory will surface. (This incidentally seems to be the default disclaimer that all women seem to automatically make in their minds; whether it is something we do to not appear mean or that women have herd mentality when it comes to platitudes.) The subsequent “logical” hypothesis she will then, theorize is that she is even worse than that woman and that is why no one wants her and panic and self-pity moves into her heart like the animals to Noah’s Ark during the big flood.

Don’t you love the logical fine-workings of a woman’s mind? “Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars”? Honey, I have news for you, we’re from a whole different solar system…

In any case, this flawed logic is often the result for why many a woman is so tied to someone who is obviously all wrong for them. In fact, just this afternoon, a work colleague and I were discussing the personal life of the store’s manager: that she’s attractive, driven and a lovely woman but yet, she’s dating a loser. In all of this, the cowardly hypocrite in me conveniently forgot that I was in a somewhat similar situation but I was slightly worse off in actually running after a “loser” who doesn’t want me. But let’s not make this (too much) about me…*smirk*

In any girly gossip exchange, one of the most oft-used phrases you will hear is “She can do so much better than him”. Of course she can! But such a pithy statement is easy to espouse when not walking in that woman's Manolo Blahniks (or insert your favored brand of heels). A woman in love (or desperation) is like a horse with blinkers on; she is blind to a man’s flaws: she sees only what she wants to see. In such circumstances, one could say that love is blind or the woman’s self-esteem is in such tatters that she thinks that the “paragon of virtue” that she has chosen to throw herself at, is anything but.

Which leads me to surmise one thing about myself: I am a LOVE MASOCHIST.

For some reason, I choose to put myself through hell when it comes to relationships. Yes, Love & Relationships are hard but I have a sneaky suspicion that 75% of the drama is all in my heart and head. (Not surprising honestly, given my drama queen predilections…) Why I feel the need to fight so hard for it to make it seem worthwhile is beyond me… Is it because I have a compelling compunction to do things the hard way so that I will appreciate it or are there other deeper reasons at play such as low self-esteem and commitment-phobia?

Either way, the self-sabotage seems to hark at latent S&M tendencies that really, are not that appealing in “a nice girl” like me.

Flirting: The Fine Nuances between Harmless or Intentional

“Sigh no more, Ladies, sigh no more…
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant, never!
So sigh not so, and let them go
And be you blithe and bonny,
Casting all your cares and woes
And singing: Hey Nonny, Nonny!”

“Much Ado About Nothing”
(William Shakespeare)

I believe it is the prerogative of any woman to indulge in a little flirtation, more so, if you have the confidence and/or attractiveness to pull it off. And it is irregardless of marital status. I am not encouraging a married woman to start a torrid affair, but sometimes, when you are in a relationship, flirting is all you can do and it can be fun and be a bit of an ego-booster. Before any one gets on their high moral horse, I have to clarify that I am talking about harmless flirtation; a little witty repartee between two parties; as long as the involved parties are fully aware that it is just a game and merely words, with no ulterior motives. There is nothing wrong with window-shopping. You just have to be sure that you do not get tempted to purchase.

Yes, there is a very fine line between a little fun and having less-than-honorable intentions. It is a game that is as light-hearted as you want to be, but just as quickly can turn deadly. The status quo does not remain static, it changes easily without notice. So how do you decide when you are venturing into shark-infested waters?

When does a friendly smile turn seductive? Or a hug hello last that bit too longer? Or a peck on the cheek that seem to be a little too close to the mouth? Suddenly, Proxemics becomes an issue and you do not feel quite so comfortable sitting with that person’s thigh pressed against yours…

Male-female relationships are rife with such potential problems. Some of us start friendships with the opposite sex with the best of intentions and the flirtation process begins gradually. Other relationships start off with fast and furious flirting that blurs the lines with each encounter. I have been a party to both situations.

In the latter situation, the flirting got me into deeper waters than I intended to be in. I admit that our flirtation started from the first time we met and grew in intensity and danger at every meeting. I would admit that I spent an inordinate amount of time baiting him and slipping as many double entendres as I could into our conversations. Needless to say, the so-called harmless flirtation I was indulging in had less than innocent results. The aftermath was an emotionally-damaging year of a dysfunctional relationship.

In my defense, the guy in question is incapable of having a purely platonic relationship with any female that is not a family member. I think till this day, even though he is supposedly involved with another girl, if I were to give him a proper hug (like a Koala), I will definitely get a reaction “down south”. As much as I would like to flatter myself and say that I’m a “superfly shorty”, I think it’s more of a physical reaction than anything else.

But his comments did get me thinking as I recall another friend with less sleazy/player tendencies who had similar sentiments: that a guy cannot be friends with any girl without at some point, wondering what it would be like to hook up with her. This intrigued me as I think most women tend to categorize their male friends into categories of those that they could possibly consider dating and those that will forever live in the category of the “surrogate brother”. Case in point, there is always the token “gay best friend” who we love to death and call him the most affectionate of names and reveals to him, the most intimate details of ourselves because he’s gay and “it doesn’t matter”. In this case, he comes under the category of being a “sister/girlfriend”. Of course, there is still hope for the “surrogate brother” who may be fortunate enough to make the transition from that category to the “date-able” category. Whatever it is, there tends to be a distinction for women.

Of course, I do know there are limits and rules in how you should engage in the art of flirting and who makes an eligible candidate. Friends with girlfriends are off-limits (especially ones whose girlfriends you are not on that familiar/close terms with); boyfriends of friends are similarly off-limits. Any senior male relatives of friends are also not appropriate (even if you think that your girlfriend’s similarly-aged uncle is oh-so-sexy, eligible and SINGLE, do not go there!) I also tend to respect the rule that someone else’s prey is off-limits, i.e. do not flirt with a guy if you have a friend or know someone who is genuinely interested in him. Of course, if the predator (other girl) is being a bitch to you, then I say, “All’s fair in love and war” and I will unsheathe the claws and “may the best bitch win”. (Disclaimer: I normally dislike playing this game because it's spiteful, pointless and hurtful.)

Recently, I had an intensive course at University that meant I had to sacrifice Friday and Saturdays over three weeks for 7 hours of class. Needless to say, everyone in class was pretty much forced to hang out since there was nobody else around. It was a diverse class with many interesting people and I had every intention of widening my social circle. One of my classmates included this guy who had many friends in common with me. We have seen each other before but never properly been introduced or hung out. This opportunity arose with the class. I believe that his cultural background is largely attributable for his overly-friendly, flirty and “touch-feely” nature. In any case, I established a friendly, harmless flirty rapport with him. I did not see our relationship being anything beyond the platonic.

A girl in our class had her sights set on him and it got to the point where she had came up to me and asked me point-blank if I liked him. I was of course shocked and told her that I honestly thought that there was something going on with him and her. She must not have believed me because she started being cold towards me. I felt bad as I knew how bad it could feel to like someone and not know if he feels the same. Out of respect for her, I started to distance myself from the guy: keeping a physical distance and down-playing the flirtation. All I got for my trouble was the guy thinking that I was angry with him.

We cleared that up at a friend’s party and there was a nice warm make-up session with lots of hugging, etc. And to be mean, I think we did take some misleading “intimate” photos to put up on Facebook for her to see. We were not out to be mean but we were a little tired of her behavior that resulted in the two of us having a misunderstanding.

I admit that at times, I wondered how much of his behavior was harmless flirting and how much of it was him trying to make a move on me. To some extent, he is the sort of guy who likes the thrill of the chase and would willingly play “Kiss Chase” with a girl as long as she plays hard to get. Whatever his intentions are, I have no interest in finding out. I have had enough relationship dramas, thank you very much.

In any case, you would think that my years of being friends with a disproportionate amount of the opposite sex would have taught me to be a little more cautious in how I interact with them; I would say that the secret tease in me is very reluctant to give up any opportunity to be a “c**k-tease”. To be honest, it’s a head-trip and an ego-boost. I can assure you that knowing how to push the right buttons of the opposite sex is not a skill every girl has; especially the ability to do it with subtlety and finesse. Most self-respecting women I know will deny enjoying “the art of tantalization” but trust me; a lot of women secretly enjoy it.

Power is better than any drug; it’s an inimitable head trip…

After all, you got it, you flaunt it; you have it, you exploit it.

This is the facts of life.

Divine Domestication III: Cleanliness is next to Godliness… Bring out the “Monica” in you…

According to my dad, my middle name is "Maria" because I seem to have an overt fondness for cleaning....(I apologize to all the Marias out there who are victims of this stereotyping of their names..)

I recently took a quiz on facebook about which “FRIENDS” character I should be. I fully expected the results to say “MONICA” given that I have the following characteristics:

-Hyper-Competitiveness
-Clean Freak Factor (borderline OCD)
-Loud, Bossy, Domineering
-Loves to Cook
-Opinionated

Unfortunately, the results said I was “RACHEL” a.k.a “very selfish”.

I was quite upset by it, to be honest. On hindsight, I suppose remnants of the spoilt princess I used to be still reside in me.

Since I was publicly yelled at by two of my brother’s friends in front of the University Library during my first semester in freshman year, I have been consciously trying to leave my “RACHEL” characteristics behind and try to be a better person. Morphing into a “MONICA” may not be the best thing but there are characteristics of “MONICA” that have evolved because like the TV character, I still feel very much the (much) fat(ter) girl I was in childhood and my resulting self-esteem issues make me still look (desperately) for affirmation and for others to love and accept me.

On some level, the need to transform myself stems from an innate need to over-compensate for my past bad behavior. On other levels, it is within my fundamental character to be a perfectionist. I am my worst enemy; there is no bigger critic of myself than myself. Often, I beat myself up for things that others do not really put much stock in. My bid to be the best that I can be has hindered my self-esteem but that is just who I am. It’s a long and hard journey in building my confidence and there are days that I still struggle but with the love and the support of (the right) friends, I am learning to accept who I am and learn to love myself.

I used to think that to be the ultimate domestic goddess was enough to make one a perfect wife. In addition to cooking and sewing, I used to keep a sparkling house and even extended my OCD freak-factor into cleaning my friends’ places for them, even if they had not asked me to. I am sure they were happy but I’ve also learnt that men do not appreciate what they have been handed so easily on a platter. If I thought doing the “girlfriend/wife” thing of cleaning a guy’s house was showing him that I would make him a good partner, I was deluded. The only thing that ever came out of it was to show him just how good a doormat I was. Do not get me wrong, I actually enjoy cleaning. I clean when I am stressed, when I am angry, when I am depressed, when I have been out having a big night drinking, when I am bored, when I am happy….I just love to clean.

I am sorry for using such a bad analogy, but I read a novel by Julia Llewellyn called THE LOVE TRAINER that talked about how men were like puppies; you have to train them to teach them how to behave. I would not go to the extreme of comparing the entire male species to dogs (even though some of the guys I know do deserve the title of being a real dog). I will say that you teach others how to treat you. I would honestly say that me cleaning up after the guys may be borne of the best intentions but they do not necessarily translate to the desired results.

If you are looking for a partner, do not give him the idea that you are a “maid” or his mother. If you are cooking, cleaning and sewing for him despite the lack of commitment or relationship between the both of you, then, you are sending the wrong signals. A man is not going to work harder for someone who is making it so obvious that he has you at his beck and call, without him having to put in any extra effort or changing the status quo.

This is the sad and harsh truth that I have learnt. This is why nice girls finish last. Nice girls treat the boys they love with so much care that even if it was an unrequited love, they do not draw boundaries. It is not healthy and it is not helping your situation. To be honest, I still have a large proportion of “doormat” in me but I am learning to set boundaries and not always be “too nice” from the start. I am learning that the other party has to reciprocate or show that they are worthy of the effort.


My seven-year journey to Divine Domestication…I started out with some good intentions: I believed that to be a good wife, one had to be a domestic goddess. How wrong I was…It is not enough to be able to cook, clean and sew. On paper, it sounds like a perfect wife, if we still lived in historic times where a wife was basically a chattel.

Through the ups and downs that make up human relationships, I have learnt that timing, situation, context is important. Relationships are hard. Being perfect on paper is not enough; even love itself is not enough to make a relationship work. It all depends on the right timing, circumstances and mutual feelings. When I look at some of my friends and the dramas they have with their relationships, I wonder if it is really worth it at all: I wonder if I am better off being single.

But that is the beauty of it…You do not cherish what you do not have to fight for. If love is worth fighting for; then all the struggling you go through and the heart-ache and the pain is worth it all in the end.


Ultimately, divine domestication may serve to help make married and family life easier for me in the future, but it is not the “be all, end all” of a perfect marriage or relationship. The right man will come along for me some day and he will love me for me: stripped of all my external fripperies and “competitive advantages”; just simply me.

Divine Domestication II: Mending is not sewing; we’re talking Martha Stewart-worthy, Baby!

Cross my heart and hope to die...Stick a needle in your eye!

A stitch in one saves nine...

The Modern Woman is very busy; you can hardly find her in the kitchen unless it’s to make something in the microwave, let alone find her sitting home and knitting a nice scarf for herself or her loved one. The more likely outcome of a desire for a scarf is to go out and buy one. No time? There’s always e-Bay and paying someone else with more time (and patience) to do it for you. Of course, I do not deny that knitting was all the rage for awhile and even men were doing the “knit-one-purl-one”.

Yet, it definitely can be said that most of us won’t consider creating our own scarves ordinarily. The closest the majority of us would have gotten to indulging in such domestic delights is probably through Home Economics where sewing projects were a part of the course; I have yet to see anyone fail the subject as there is always Nanny, Granny, Mummy, “Maria/Yanti” (or in my case, Daddy) to help you with it, if you were just purely hopeless (or lazy).

My mother, obviously, lived in a different era, one where Stepford wives were lauded. She had a different idea of what a woman should accomplish and one of them was sewing. To be honest, I am more likely to throw something away then mend it since I have fashion ADD anyway (80% of my wardrobe is less than 3 months old). If I really had to get something fixed, I am more likely to cajole (browbeat) someone into doing it for me or bringing it to an alterations service or a dry-cleaners’ that offers such services. I do not think I am alone in this; many women would do the same thing! Learning to sew for me was the most grudging of experiences till much later, when I started to appreciate the advantages of such an uncommon skill in today’s generation.

I come from a financially-comfortable background, we’re not using fifty-dollar bills to light up fat cigars but we’ve certainly never worried about when our next meal is going to be. Many of my friends and peers are in similar positions; we are, indeed, a blessed lot that we have been indulged our whims and fancies. Material fulfillment is a delightful luxury but it is hell when it comes to birthdays and gift-buying. What do you give someone who has everything he/she wants? Or if there is something that person would want, it’s probably out of your budget. Finding a meaningful gift, thus, becomes a real drama.

Out of boredom, I picked up knitting from a friend’s mother. I did not think it would be particularly useful to me but she seemed so keen to teach me that I did not have the heart to refuse her offer of tutelage. Last year, I was searching frantically for a gift for a very dear male friend of mine. I have mentioned him before: he is the one man I literally cried myself sick over when he went back home for good. He had very exacting and particular taste and in my dire straits, I decided to knit him a scarf.

It was not a Martha Stewart-worthy creation but the simple (and slightly grubby by the end) result was enough to make him love it. I suppose money cannot buy you some things in life (as opposed to what MasterCard would lead us to believe): time, effort and the love put into a gift that is not “store-bought” will always mean so much more than an expensive gift from the best stores. A hand-crafted gift tells the recipient how much you mean to them; that they are worthy of that extra bit of “bother” and effort. (But please, the more cynical ones amongst us, do not confuse sincerity with tight arse-ness.)

Times have changed and many of us do not put much store into domestic accomplishments. In fact, many people scorn it, saying that being time-poor makes them unable to pursue such “hobbies”. Once an expectation of most womenfolk, it is now a rather rare talent that will make a person stand out in a crowd of increasingly domestically-challenged female population. Besides you never know when you’d need a needle to stick into a voodoo doll or stab someone in the eye with… Only joking but it

Divine Domestication I: The only (true) wife is a Stepford Wife…

Step One: Mastering the Art of Culinary Delights

“I love you, ****!!!!”

If someone had told me a long time ago that making pink cupcakes would make a boy declare his love for me, I certainly would have started baking/cooking a lot sooner. Well, at least, my initial intentions to “domesticate” myself had been based on the wrong idea that being able to cook, clean and sew will make up for my personal (physical) flaws; giving me that extra leverage on the marriage mart.

5 years ago, I took my first step of independence in choosing to move across the ocean and equator to pursue my studies in Australia. I was eager to move out of home and go crazy with my new-found freedom. Of course, with independence, comes responsibility as well. Half a semester of eating out left my taste buds stinging from MSG overkill and a stomach that was beginning to riot from the over-indulgence in oil. So, it was with great sadness that I bid a fond farewell to the dodgy (yet cheap and good) eating places in Chinatown and the lovely Italian restaurants near my student lodgings.

My mother once told me that you cannot get married unless you learn how to cook, clean and sew; her logic being that a good wife is one who can excel in providing domestic comfort (and bliss) for her family. I suppose her intentions were a little old-fashioned but all families have their own rules and regulations. With my mother’s words ringing in my ears, I bravely stepped into the kitchen to begin my adventure as a nascent cook. Let us say that my brother was most patient in eating the limited menu I was able to produce in the initial stages.

I had dabbled in a little baking when I was in junior college, making little brownies and carrot cakes for my classmates but I had never truly been a baker given that we did not have a proper oven back home or in the student lodgings that I was living in during my undergraduate years. In my last semester of undergrad, I moved to my own apartment and the greatest joy I felt was in having a proper kitchen, one with a functional oven and space to maneuver around. It was then, that I threw myself wholeheartedly into baking.

I subscribed wholeheartedly to the adage that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. I cooked whoever was the “flavor-du-jour” lavish dinners, bringing him meals at uni and even resorting to cooking a ten-course meal for him in one night and bringing it all over to his place during the exams period. When I could not get him to come to dinner, I branched out into baking. Baking him sweet confectionaries and trying to entice him to come meet me with them. It sounds ludicrous but I was obsessed.

It was not all for naught though. I may have had the best intentions without the desired results, but in the process, I expanded my culinary repertoire. For the wrong person, I aspired to greater heights. I am no longer as obsessive about baking for him but the habit has stuck. I still bake 3-4 days a week; putting a lot of love and effort into my “made from scratch” creations but I am sharing them with friends and the other people in my class or work. It’s earned me the nickname of “Betty Crocker” and to be honest, I think I am happier “sharing my love” with everyone rather than one person who did not appreciate it the way he should have.

What's your POP (Pimping Out Price)?

Recently, my bestie did an “advert” looking for a girlfriend for a friend of hers. We were talking on MSN and I told her that what qualifies a man as a “good catch” is not his material or physical attributes, but rather his heart. Her response was that wealth is what girls are looking for and if she were to be honest, it does matter to her as well. My response was that wealth is a relative term. Of course, pragmatism and reality tells us that we cannot live on love alone, but how wealthy does a guy have to be for you to be attracted: enough that you do not worry when your next meal is going to be or enough for you to be kept dripping in diamonds?

What is your POP?

What extent of material comfort do you expect when looking for a significant other? In other words, what price will you whore yourself out for? I know it sounds rude but sometimes, when I hear people talking crap about prostitutes and the like, I feel that there is a certain level of hypocrisy involved.

Prostitutes have sex with clients for money. At the end of the day, it is a business arrangement. Yes, it does make the whole act of sex seem sordid and taints the rosy image many of us have of sex and the associated romance and relationship that should come with it. But let us be honest here, we’re only human and to be honest, many of us (stereotypically, men) have base needs that need to be met and there's also some of us, who frankly, are just skanks, pure and simple. Are you saying that women, who hold out for the bigger, better deal (material-wise), are better than those who work in the oldest profession in the world?

I don’t think so. The woman who held out for the latest Mulberry bag is not very much different from a high-class call girl; they both cost a pretty penny even though one is paid with material goods and the other with cold hard cash. Doesn’t that fit a definition of whoring yourself out? I wouldn’t say that every woman who has financial stability/comfort as her selection criteria is a potential “prostitute in disguise” but I will say that for those of us who have a wide streak of “gold-digging” in them, should really learn the expression “people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones”. If you’ve ever had the chance to read Coerte Felske’s Millennium Girl, you’d know that there are a breed of women who do take their search for the ultimate Sugar Daddy very seriously: to the professional level. To some extent, I think that the prostitute has the better deal; she gets paid before she gets down to business. A woman who is being “kept” is in it for the long-term, the ultimate price being “marriage” but she is still at risk of having her “business deal” go down in flames as she does not get paid till much, much after.

But I’m not here to discuss the fine distinction between prostitution and being a “sugar baby”. I want to talk about what your personal criteria is when it comes to financial status. I believe I have mentioned before that I would like to find someone who is on par with my family’s social status; one who is able to support me in the lifestyle (or some semblance of it) that I have grown up and become accustomed to.

But I would also like to say that, at the end of the day, you will never truly know your POP till you are put in the situation where you actually have to decide what the exact price is. It is easy to give a ballpark figure when you haven’t met the person yet. There are some of us who adhere strictly to guidelines and will not consider anyone who does not meet their selection criteria. But alas, life is not always black-and-white. At some point in our lives, we will all meet that not-quite-suitable boy (or girl) who does not meet the pre-selection criteria and yet, there is just something about that person that makes you want to step out of your comfort/vetting zone and explore unchartered waters. Whether or not he is worth the risk, well, only time and experience will tell. And that is why one should always treat marriage as if there is a “no returns” policy and think well and hard before you choose to waltz down that aisle in the pretty white gown.

Of course, I am not suggesting that you marry someone that is the polar opposite of your selection criteria just to prove your point that wealth is of little consequence when it comes to matters of the heart. All I am saying is that it is often difficult to search for the right person when you have set yourself a list of selection criteria. How do you know what you really want? You will not really know till you meet the person. Even then, the basic foundations of common shared values may not necessarily make that person your perfect match either.

We’ve all heard that the “perfect match” is one where you complement each other; your weaknesses should be his strengths and vice-versa. Bullshit. We’re never ever going to find the perfect complement to ourselves. Everything in life does not fit nicely into place like a seamless jigsaw puzzle. There will always be uneven edges, gaps, grey areas and the like that will make any relationship a “Monet”: perfect from afar but a mess if you examine it up close. In situations such as these, it is when compromise comes to play and we have to decide what redeeming factors do the other party have that will make us set our POP to the “intended market price”.

Did I just make relationships and the search for a mate (in my dictionary known as "the Marriage Mart") sound cynical and clinical – like a typical business transaction? Well, it is a business transaction of some sorts; you do get what you pay for: A man wants beauty, a woman wants wealth... The woman auctions herself off to the highest bidder who pays dearly to then get to dangle that lovely trophy of his arm. Maybe not all of us are that shallow but there are also many of us who are. In today’s modern world, everyone is increasingly time-poor. As one reader mentioned, Speed-dating is a phenomenon that is growing (at an alarming rate). When you have five minutes to summarize what your good points are, one thing tends to stand out as a fail-safe – your financial portfolio.

Take Me On The Ferris Wheel

We’ve all had grand illusions of romantic gestures… Unfortunately, most modern men are a little leery of taking such actions unless necessity dictates it. Ryan Gosling plays the part of a romantic fool perfectly when he climbs a Ferris Wheel to convince Rachael Adams to go on a date with him on threat of his demise otherwise; In movie world: so touching; in the cynical reality: what a psycho/stalker/freak.

I have always had a twisted fixation with Ferris Wheels: I am scared stiff of heights but will never give up an opportunity to go on one. Particularly, I find it all that much enjoyable to be riding on one with a significant other. Alas, while I’ve deliberately made myself green in the gills from many rides on one, not many of them have been with the person I had in mind (and heart).

Perhaps I have an arcane (and somewhat old-school American) idea of romance but in today’s materialistic world, the color of the green has certainly outclassed simple romance. Have the ladies grown more materialistic, or have the men raised the ante in a bid to leverage their positions as a good catch? Either way, many have dismissed old-fashioned romance or activities such as an excursion to the funfair or a simple picnic as too time-consuming, ridiculous or just a waste of time and effort. Perhaps the increasing urbanization of the general population has caused this natural evolution, but clearly what we see on the silver screen is very unlikely to translate to the real world with the same “coup de grace”.

But I digress.

Personally, I have romantic associations with the Ferris Wheel (if one conveniently ignores the accompanying motion sickness and resulting nausea). A long time ago, when I hadn’t yet lost my romantic idealism to cynicism, the first boy I ever went out with took me to a traveling fair. It was my own little re-enactment of a quaint American custom; my “little piece of Hollywood”. I had a lot of fun: letting him win me stuffed toys; getting sick from an over-indulgence of corndogs and cotton candy; going on over-priced rides; pretending to be scared on the Viking boat (any excuse to cling onto him) …

Mostly, the memory that lingers the longest and holds the strongest image in my mind is winding down the evening with a ‘quiet ride’ on the Ferris Wheel. I was a little apprehensive initially due to my phobia of heights. It was only his reassurance that helped me to allay my fears (to be perfectly frank, I think the idea of snuggling up to him had a strong appeal to my youthful hormones. In any case, I soon forgot my fears and enjoyed the fantastic view we had of the city (and of course, other delightful distractions). What struck me the most was that single romantic gesture he made; I had been excited by the view and was trying to get him to find the same enthusiasm that I had of it when he looked me dead in the eye and said, “I already have the best view and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen…outside and inside.” It was said with such simplicity and without much aplomb but it left a lasting impression; even the most bloke-ish of guys were capable of romance. But it was the simplicity of the sincerity and truth he put into that one sentence that touched me so deeply.

That became my benchmark: not the actual scenario but the context and situation. It’s been 7 years since but a part of my enchantment with Ferris Wheels has always been linked with that incident. I’m still searching for that special someone to take me on the Ferris Wheel to re-capture that moment.

Recently, a traveling Ferris Wheel was set up by the river in the city. My initial reaction was one of great excitement as I tried to get someone I was (then) in a complicated relationship with to ride on it with me. It did not pan out and I was disappointed. On hindsight, it was a blessing as hormones and the resulting physical implications would have tainted my idealistic memory of romance. I, then, became “involved” with someone that had potential for development into something more and I’d thought to share that experience with him. Unfortunately, the opportunity never arose.

Now, every time I drive past and see the Ferris Wheel, I am filled a sense of bittersweet poignancy as I wished that more could have been realized from that potential relationship. Yet, as I watch the bright lights of the Wheel turn round and round against the skyline, a twinge of hope fills me. Life goes in a cycle and one day, I’d find myself in that special place again (metaphorically): riding the Ferris Wheel with the right person to share that moment again…and creating our own unique memory.

Sometimes you have to go through a little (personal) Hell to get to a (shared) Heaven…

Something to make you laugh

Sometimes, I find that I often let myself slip into the melancholy. A part of me derives secret pleasure in wallowing in a bout of self-misery. Often I think, pain and sadness is self-inflicted. Self-pity is a twisted pleasure we all indulge in. Saying that, I'd like to leave you guys with a video my friend showed me that brought a smile to my face.

I'm trying to be happier these days and it's not easy, being a sookie lala who loves to pout and sulk...

Anyway, I hope this brings a smile to your faces as well.

Live Life the way you want it to be. You can't always control the outcome but you can control how you deal with it.

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/74

The Modern Woman

“Be careful if you make a woman cry, for God counts every one of her tears.

A woman was made from one of Man’s ribs: not from his feet to be stepped on; not from his head to be superior but under his arm to be protected and next to his heart to be loved.”

Feminism…I know you have done great things for the equality of women and you have removed much of the degradation and subjugation that the so-called “weaker sex” has had to endure over time. But to be honest, I am beginning to think of you as the dirty F-word. Somehow or another, the concept of Feminism got convoluted, stereoptyped, misinterpreted and generally, been given a bad name.

Feminists have been thought of as butch-looking lesbians who are man-haters on one end of the spectrum while on the other end; they are jeered for having a double standard of wanting to be treated as an equal for some things and as the “weaker sex” on others. Did you know that not all feminists do not shave their legs or refuse to wear make-up or skirts? Being a feminist does not mean you have to give up being feminine; to do so is to defeat the sole purpose (and concept) of feminism. So you wear high heels and tight dresses with low necklines: you like wearing red lipstick and black liquid liner: you wear your hair in long curls…Does that mean you are a disgrace to feminism by pandering to the so-called male ideal of what a woman should be? Wrong. Being a modern feminist entails not being afraid to choose who you want to be and exercising your rights as a woman (and human being) to do so. In other words, embrace (and celebrate) being a woman.

As someone who calls herself neither a feminist nor “man-dependent”, I would still like to say that being a Feminist does not mean you have to stereotype yourself. There is no one set of characteristics that make you a Feminist. Women have come a long way in our evolution: we are better educated, more independent and have more freedom to make our own choices. Yes, we are not completely hopeless. (Although we sometimes like to appeal to your male pride by pretending to be so.) Unlike our ancestors who had other notions, the modern woman can be credited for being able to stand on her own two feet without a man’s support. But it does not mean that we should all be like the Amazons and live without men (well, technically, they still needed men for reproductive reasons…).

God created Eve to be a companion for Adam; just as in nature, there is a male and female to all species. Together, they create a harmonious balance where the two are complementary. I do not believe that men and women were created to fight a constant battle of the sexes although often, the differences in each sex’s innate character tend to advocate it. Is “anything you can do, I can do it better too” really that important? No man is an island; no woman an island either. Like the Yin and Yang symbol, both sexes are meant to fit together to form a perfect circle; a man’s strength will carry a woman through her weakness and vice-versa.

Sounds idealistic? I have news for you: there is no utopia. The ego and the fight for so-called “equal” rights will always mean that the battle of the sexes is one that is never-ending.

I confess to a traditional upbringing and I also admit that the culture I grew up in plays an important role of what I deem is appropriate behavior for men and women. In the Asian context, women tend to take on more submissive roles to their male counterparts. I do not necessarily find this degrading. To me, it is merely a segregation of duties based on the strengths of each sex. Mutual respect can exist in such a relationship without it having to be displayed prominently in bright lights on a marquee. We’ve all heard the saying that “behind every successful man, there is a woman”. Does that mean that a woman’s role is solely to support her man? No. A man supports a woman in the way he can best do so and a woman does the same. A man has his ego and his pride. A woman has her emotions and sensitive side. I think it is a fair trade for a man to have his pride and appear to be the one “who wears the pants” in the relationship in the public arena as long as he is mindful of a woman’s sensitivity and is careful of hurting her feelings.

At the end of the day, mutual respect and support, as with co-dependence between the two sexes need to be recognized. One cannot live without the other; ergo, no one sex is better than the other.

I cannot remember an occasion when one of my male friends has thought to see me home when it’s late or when offered a ride, wait till I am inside the house before driving off. Nor do I recall them standing up when I leave the table or opening doors for me. I have an even lesser recollection of any of them thinking to walk on the street-side of a pathway when we are walking together. Consideration of my “delicate sensibilities” in choice and manner of words during conversations is of course, laughably non-existent.

Perhaps my close friendship with my male friends have made them think of me as one of their own and they have forgotten that under my blatantly male interests, I am, fundamentally, still a female. I am not saying that I need a man to do all of the above things for me but I do not deny that such acts would be greatly appreciated.

I am used to being teased constantly by my male friends. While I am able to take most of it good naturedly, I find that sometimes they tread a very fine line between what is acceptable behavior and what is offensive and potentially, hurtful, despite the lack of malicious intent. Callosity, I am afraid, is a male trait that often rears its ugly head unintentionally. I have found that men are better equipped to not take things personally and can remove their emotions from an equation when the situation calls for it. Women do not fair so well in this arena. Not only do we tend to take things personally, we tend to bear grudges as well. Most women I know live under the creed of “forgive but never forget”.

Just recently, (a few hours ago in class to be more exact), a male friend of mine hurt me unintentionally with his words. From his point of view, he was merely stating a fact but from my (female) point of view, his words and the manner in which they said carried other implications.

Typical Scenario: Miscommunication between the sexes

Female: At least read what I wrote for the whole group so you know what your “active” contribution has resulted in

(Implication: she has good intentions to do work to benefit the group but yet, still carries some resentment at the others’ laziness and resorts to passive-aggressive sarcasm)

Male: We can read it later. It doesn’t matter. No one feels like working tonight.

(Implication: None; everyone is tired. He genuinely thinks it’s not a big deal and thinks she should just leave it.)

Female: It matters when you all just assume that I’d always do the work

(Implication: She is feeling disgruntled that her effort is not being appreciated and feels like she is being taken for granted. Cue for guys to show appreciation.)

Male: Continuing with the issue again. If you’re not happy doing it, then just don’t do it.

(Implication: Annoyance that issue is still being pursued so states fact)

Female remains silent and eventually starts crying.

(Implication: She is hurt by what he said and the way he said it. She feels upset that she is not being appreciated for doing something good and instead has been told off. Wallows in misery and starts thinking how unloved and unappreciated she is, which serves to encourage to crying)

Class ends. Female leaves quickly, secretly hoping Male will come after her to apologize. She is disappointed when it does not happen.

Aftermath

Female receives a text message from Male saying he is sorry if he has hurt her, it was unintentional and that she should not have taken it to heart.

Female texts back to explain why she is upset but accepts apology and says “it’s over, forget it”. Male takes it at face-value. But we both know she is going to hold this in her heart for awhile.


Does this sound familiar? Maybe the characters are different and the situation slightly different but the outcome is definitely something that we have all experienced.

The modern woman can accomplish easily, many of the things that historically were performed by their male counterparts. The modern woman is strong and independent but some things never change. The fundamental make-up of any woman’s DNA is the same, whether she lived in historic times or the present. A woman is still a woman. She is not the “weaker” sex but still the “fairer” sex; she still desires to be respected, cherished, adored and treated with gentleness and kindness.

Alas, poor Chivalry that grew arcane in lieu of feminism and equality; what was once considered etiquette has, now, been relegated as decidedly sissy behavior. That being said, I acknowledge that generalization is unfair and so, I would like to say this to those special members of the Male Sex who are pro-(modern)feminists:

Thank you for letting us spread our wings to fly but still being there to catch us if we fall… For recognizing us as equals and being willing to accept that women can be the stronger sex (emotionally) even though you are the stronger sex physically (or even some of you who secretly think that females are the superior sex).