The 10% Boyfriend

Ever knew a guy you enjoyed hanging out with: the guy you take with you if you need a date for something but you just aren’t dating anyone at the moment or it’s not quite at the stage for you to be bringing him as your “plus one”. He’s the guy you take to occasional extended family events or weddings; The guy you catch movies with or have dinner at a nice place with once in awhile; the guy you exercise your “FWF” (aka Friends who f**k) benefits when the need strikes i.e. you haven’t done the horizontal hustle in a loooooonnng time and picking up a random stranger is so not your deal.

BUT…

When someone (more often than not, an annoying auntie who loves to meddle and gossip) asks you if the both of you are together, you respond by looking around wildly for a means to beat a hasty retreat and mumbling “errr…”

This man is the 10% Boyfriend.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with him. In fact, he’s pretty much almost on par with “Girlfriend!” and yes, the exclamation point is necessary in this context. I am of course, talking about your “sista-sista” aka the GAY Best Friend. The man who fusses over you like your mum and concerned auntie combined; spends hours bitching and gossiping with you; goes into the Change room with you and gives you the most brutal appraisal of your fashion choices (and sometimes your choice of Men); who you do everything with like he was your Mr. Perfect, except that you don’t know each other in the Biblical sense.

I digress.

The 10% boyfriend is charming, attractive (to you) and someone whose company you enjoy very much. On some level, you may even have sexual compatibility with him. Looking at the checklist, you’re ticking off the criteria you look for in a man like crazy. Sounds good so far? But there’s one problem…There is still that one bit missing that makes you dig your feet into the ground when it comes to contemplating if you should take things one step further. Being a woman, you probably would have at some point of time, contemplated this. (I don’t know any female who hasn’t ever thought that having your soul mate and best friend also be the love of your life as an idea that is repugnant.)

The 10% boyfriend is like an ice-cream sundae. He’s a treat but he’s not an extraordinary one. He’s certainly no Hot Chocolate Lava Cake drizzled with Belgian Chocolate and Vanilla Bean ice-cream. He’s Mr. Paddle Pop – something familiar and you’re comfortable with but he doesn’t make your eyes glaze over or makes you lose coherent thought and start drooling. I suppose, in reality, we can’t all hold out for Mr. Fantasy Man because he may not exist to our exacting requirements but THE ONE should be able to at least, sweep you off your feet (figuratively) at some point of time in your relationship.

Most women have this fella in their life. Depending on which stage of the emotional rollercoaster they are at, they may be able to handle having him in their life or they may start being a clinging vine. At some point, you may have even played “pretend couple” with him unconsciously. Well, there’s nothing wrong to fall back on your ‘failsafe’ guy when you’re feeling particularly low over your lack of relationship status but the 10% Boyfriend is not a LONG TERM PLAN.

At some point of time, you will need to accept that he (aka MR 10%) isn’t the perfect fit for you. While he helps you alleviate some of the anxiety you get from being alone, he also lulls you into a false sense of complacency. Because you ‘sorta’ have a boyfriend, you may start subconsciously giving out ‘already taken’ vibes to potentials. So the next time you sob into your martini on a girls’ night out, asking your girlfriends why you don’t have anyone…think about this reason.

The modern woman has come a long way in terms of independence. But at the end of the day, we weren’t made to go through Life alone. At some point, we’d pair up with a significant other. So, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to share your life with someone. You are not a lesser being for wanting to be one of a pair. Just bear in mind that at some stage in your life, you will walk it alone and being alone doesn’t mean being lonely. It just means it isn’t the time for you to share it with someone.

So, if you’re clinging onto Mr 10% for that false sense of security; Do yourself a favour. Cut him lose. He may be your Mr 10% but he could be someone else’s Mr 100%. Do a sista a favor and give her back her man… *LOL*

Free Milk: Is He or Isn’t He?

Ever heard or had your mother constantly nag you with the expression: “Nobody’s gonna buy the cow when you’re giving away the milk for free?” Sadly, as much as it pains me to admit it, Mommy Dearest is not wrong.

Let’s be honest: You give the milk away on a regular basis. The problem with this “enlightened” approach to sex is you’re probably sleeping with a guy and have no idea if he’s your boyfriend. You can’t ask. He doesn’t say. So what do you do?

As with any typical (neurotic) female, you try and figure out which category you fit into…


Category A:

• You are still in the dark about the other girlies in his life



• Gets awkward about introducing you to friends or tries to avoid it if possible



• Gets the “deer in headlights” look when you make the vaguest reference to any plans that are more than 2 days in advance, or any vacation ideas.



• He never sees you without makeup, ever!



• You’re still splurging on the sexy but oh so uncomfortable bum floss and lacy bras. (Hell, your underwear matches!)

He couldn’t be your boyfriend less. Your relationship is purely surface, and you’re always trying to put your best foot (or, since you’re always made up when you two hang out, your best face) forward.

The Good News: You’re in crush mode, the best part of any relationship – you get dressed up, get taken out to dinner, have lots of sex.. The Bad News: You could be destined to become FWF (Friends who fornicate).



VERBALVALIUM LEXICON:

FWF also associated with “SAFETY GUY” who is 1) a male you are sexually involved with who never asks for commitment, and this never bothers you; 2) the lover you introduce at parties as your “uh, friend”; 3) the perfect last minute date for all non-family-related events, work functions, and lonely nights.


Synonymous with Permaf**k; BOOTY CALL


My (Possibly Bad) Advice:

Keep dating. He probably is. But set an expiry date. Looking good all the time can be tiring and a strain on the wallet. *wink*


Category B:

• As far as you know, you’re the only one he is dating although he hasn’t called you his girlfriend yet (but the sneaky bastard could be good at hiding his tracks);



• He introduces you to friends, but isn’t explicit about your status. But you know from sly looks exchanged that the friends have some idea that when he introduces you as a friend, it’s with the “inverted commas”;



• He’s seen you without the make-up; on casual, unplanned hang-out sessions or when you slept over after that big night out and didn’t bring your overnight bag;



• He makes vague promises with regards to longer-term plans or vacations but doesn’t seem that enthusiastic yet;

He’s seen the granny pants aka the plain cotton stuff you prefer on a daily basis, but not often, just when you really can’t be bothered or it’s laundry day.

You’re in relationship limbo. He’ll spend a weekend with you out of town; maybe you’ve met a sibling or two. But will he become your boyfriend? Or will you run into him at a club or some random party and find some drunk chick sitting on his lap with her tongue in his ear?


My (Possibly Bad) Advice:

Initiate The Talk. But be aware: If you tell him you want a commitment, he could run screaming out the door, move to Botswana, you’d never hear from him again. But hey, if you need to know, you need to know. Labels suck but you need to be able to refer to him as something other than your “whatever” (often said with an unintelligible mumble as you’re not sure yourself).


Category C:

• He calls you “Baby” or some other sugary-sweet nickname in public and doesn’t mind if you do the same;



• When you meet his friends, he introduces you and you make plans together;



• Not only shows genuine interest in longer-term plans or vacation plans with you but may actually initiate the idea;



• He’s seen you without the make-up on a regular basis



• You’ve semi-retired the sexy underwear
  

Congratulations! You have a boyfriend. How do I know? Because it’s not so romantic anymore. Sometimes, you can’t be bothered to put on the good underwear before he comes over; he rarely picks up the check; he’s seen you without the make-up on an increasingly regular basis. Then again, giving up the trappings of dating is the small price to pay for intimacy. At least, that’s what your therapist would say.


My (Possibly Bad) Advice:

You don’t need advice. You’re in love. It sucks, right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Which category do I fall in? Although it seemed as if I was in category B, (alas, Love makes one blind) I was in Category A. I was always told I was too generous for my own good, but I never figured that “Generous to a fault” could be that detrimental to one’s (emotional) health till now.

COMMITMENT PHOBIA IS A CROCK OF B.S

I recently read a blog entry by one of my dearest friends who was discussing about the fallacy of men and their inability to commit or to that effect. I have an alternative theory which is that there is NO SUCH THING AS COMMITMENT PHOBIA.

When a man says he doesn’t want to get married, the underlying text tends to mean that he doesn’t want to marry you, not never ever. Unfortunately, most men I know will admit that breaking up with a girl is one of those things that they absolutely hate and try to avoid. Why? For various reasons logical only to their minds (and they call women the irrational sex…) such as the fact that they can’t abide tears or dislike the feelings of guilt that plague them when they see your face crumple up and fall. So what do they do then? They either stay in a dead-end relationship, dragging it out till the girl gets sick of them and dumps them or they start acting nasty, in the hope that the girl will get pissed and do the dirty deed instead. Sneaky? Possibly. Illogical? Most definitely.

Now, this is not to say that all men are the same. There are genuinely guys who cheat or want fuck buddies because they aren't ready for relationships or haven't found the right one yet (that being said, some guys may go through their entire lives never finding the right one or gaining the right frame of mind).

Honey, trust me though; if your man is dragging his feet and won’t commit, I can assure you that there is psychological babble associated behind such behaviour i.e. “Homeostasis”.

Homeostasis

A lot of guys are not comfortable with change. When a guy feels that his needs are met and he is happy with the status quo, he’s not going to want to change anything. Guys believe that you “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke”. They don’t have the same enthusiasm that women do about change for the fun of it or feel the need to jazz things up. For most guys, a set routine is good. Repetition is good. (That’s why video games fascinate them more than they do most women.)

Equilibrium Restoration

So how do you get a guy to snap out of this syndrome? You introduce a huge imbalance into the equation; a metaphorical earthquake i.e. to borrow the expression: “TURN OVER THE APPLECART”. When you upset the equilibrium, he will do anything to restore it back to the original level of comfort he was enjoying. If you say your price is marriage or commitment, he’d pay the price. However, that being said, be prepared to accept the good with the bad. Throwing your cards down on the table has its risks as well. If your gamble pays off, walking away will leave him running after you. After all, Life is a tango, when you keep stepping forward, the other party will step back. So taking a step back will allow the other person to step forward. If you walk away and he does not come running after you, then you’d know that he never would have come round to committing to you or giving you what you want, no matter how long you stuck it out in the situation.

Of course, it is never easy to walk away from someone, especially if you love the person. Breaking up or walking away may result in you being single for awhile and some people are not comfortable with that. You need to weigh out the pros and cons; is it really worth staying in a dead-end relationship that leads to nowhere? Ultimately, you’re just wasting precious time till you or him get sick of it, or you remain forever in situ; neither of which is worth it.

Sometimes, we have to go through a little hell to get to heaven. No one said it was easy but seriously, why prolong the heartache? The new cannot come if the old does not go. You never know, the perfect one for you who will give you what you want/need is out there but just needed the right timing and circumstances to occur.

Of course, those of you who have followed this blog may think that I’m being hypocritical given that I, myself, have been unable to let go of the “deadbeat” in my life. The truth is, I have thought about it many times: to end things or walk away. I may talk big but emotionally, I am a coward. I admit that I am not ready to let go of him. I’ve tried but the depression that descended on me went beyond mentally and emotionally to the point it was affecting me physically. That being said, it doesn’t mean I’m not doing anything at all. I do my best to meet other people, I go out and have fun with friends, and I try new things. However, it’s still taking me time to build up that courage to walk away and accept that there is a very real chance he won’t care. I know that time is running out for me. My most significant reason for coming back here is no longer valid and it’s time to move on, whether I like it or not. Maybe it’s better to rip the bandaid of quickly and get it over with. But for now, my fragile heart is more accepting of telling myself that I have till the end of the year and then I’m gone. Maybe I’m dragging out the suffering in a masochistic manner but it’s the best way I can find to cope for now. Less than a year for a miracle to happen or for it to truly be the end of us (not that there ever was an “US”).

Playing House (for now)

I recently acquired a housemate. I suppose there’s nothing really extraordinary about that fact, except that my housemate broke my heart on our first day of living together. I suppose most girls would not have put up with such abuse and would have kicked his sorry arse out but after 1.5 years of putting up with his crap, it’s just another item on a long list of things that I do because I love him. Yes, for those of you who actually follow the “Spanish Novella” masquerading as this blog (Kudos, by the way, to my dear loyal readers), my potential Prince Charming/Current Mr Froggie (aka the male protagonist of the VerbalValium saga) has taken up temporary residence at my abode.

Ordinarily, I would be popping the champers and dancing around in glee to be shacking up with my PPC even if it’s only for a couple of weeks; (Hey, you take what you can get!) Being the first face he sees when he wakes up in the morning and the last one he sees before he goes to bed is not a bad deal! Alas, woe is me… there were several adjustments that I had to make, that frankly, I was not very keen on accommodating. For one, as much as I loved having him stay over, I could not help but feel that there was something not quite right with the set-up despite the fact that our 1.5 year history has made him no stranger to my apartment. What was that niggling feeling? Ah…yes, he was sleeping in the wrong room.

I’m not going to be prissy or get on a high moral horse. To steal a quote from the movie Eating Out (which features the absolutely yummy Ryan Carnes!): “We are all organic creatures and have organic needs”. After two months of being away, I won’t deny feeling highly “organic”; I missed him. Pure and simple. Unfortunately, organic good aren’t always available and hence, needs have to go unfulfilled.

Through some semblance of an unspoken mutual agreement, we had both taken our time apart to re-evaluate our situation (at least, I was definitely re-assessing our situation; I cannot vouch for him as he may have had other more pressing things and distractions on his mind). In my case, I was definitely hoping that by walking away, “[my] absence would make [his] heart grow fonder”. Alas, I think he was more of the school of thought that “out of [his] sight, [was to be] out of [his] mind”. A whole month had gone by before he contacted me while I was away, and at that point, I had honestly given up all hope and expected the worst: that I meant nothing to him at all and I was not missed. I was absolutely gutted.

Just when the storm clouds were blowing in and I was all set for a monsoon (of hard alcohol to drown the pain), he calls and suddenly my grey skies part to reveal the rainbow. Yes, my rainbow though not in perfect Technicolor glory, with its slightly scruffy edges and somewhat faded colors, was still there and waiting for me at the end of it (I fervently hoped), was my pot of (tarnished) gold. There are some who believe that Love should never be this hard and that what is meant to be, will be….and there is the other (somewhat melodramatic, self-posturing) school of thought that believes that “the path of Love ne’er did runneth smooth…” Given the pugnacious, somewhat ornery nature that makes up my “lovely” personality, there is no prize guessing which school of thought I subscribe to.

So, the seasons changed and the monsoons came to wash the (dirty) past away…Whether or not that pot of gold exists…I still find myself searching for that rainbow because only through my journey will I know if “all that glitters is (not) gold”.

Cupid can get stuffed unless he's there on a daily basis

Smell the sickeningly-sweet cloying scent of roses in the air and a faint whiff of chocolates as couples languishing in lovey-dovey overdrive - some going to the extent of matching his-and-hers outfits – parade the streets. Watch as red or pink dominate the scenery as you watch smug girls mince by holding massive bouquets of flowers, assorted cutesy stuffed toys or other Cupid-inspired gifts: trailed of course, my some smitten beau who may or may not be making “goo-goo” eyes or staring at his beloved with a dreamy gaze and heartfelt sigh. I exaggerate, of course, but you get the point…


Those of us who happen to be single this Valentine’s may grumble and put this occasion down as another stupid Hallmark-created holiday for said company and other V-Day gift purveyors…As much as it pains the wallet to fork out 10 bucks per stalk of rose, can you really begrudge these businesses the once-a-year opportunity to make some profits? After all, nobody said you had to buy roses; you had a choice, even if it’s grudging one due to clichés and ritualistic expectations. In the words of my seemingly perpetually rose-colored glasses wearing future sister-in-law: “No need. Anyway, every day is Valentine’s Day”. Her idealistic statement leaves me in a quandary to either laugh at her idealism (or at my own cynicism) or to feel sorry for my unknowing brother who has enormous romantic expectations to fill not just on special occasions but every day. I suppose, given that he has willingly agreed to throw on the leg-shackles at such a young tender age, (ok, ok…I admit to indulging in a little sour grapes behavior since I know I would probably be wearing an ape-shit grin on my face if a certain someone proposed to me but let’s not my own lack of success in that department rain on my brother’s parade) he knows what he is getting himself into (I hope.)

Yet, there is some truth to her statement. I mean, who was the one who proclaimed Valentine’s Day as the day for lovers and dictated that modern celebratory rites included material gifts (that are seriously over-inflated)? I’d like to be a cynic and blame it solely on Hallmark but anyone with a basic grasp of Economics know that with demand drives supply. History hypothesizes that the origins of Valentine’s Day had nothing to do with romance or lovers at all, instead, being a day designated to honor two saints who were named Valentine for their martyr behavior. Perhaps the closest reference we can associate with today’s connotations (of romantic love) celebrated on the day are from Chaucer’s Parliament of Foules:

For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese [choose] his make [mate].

In any case, it’s not an especially fun day for the love-lorn, including myself. At 24, I have weathered quite a few Valentine’s days...given my track record, you are correct to assume that they were spent without a significant other. Some of them I spend wallowing in misery, listening to love songs in my darkened room (mostly during the teenage angst years), while others I spend with a few girlfriends, having dinner and celebrating friendship. This year, I spent it running errands for my brother, who did not have the time to purchase tokens of love for his fiance, and the bulk of the day with my mother. A romantic day made in Heaven….Not.

I have to admit though, that the closet romantic in me was basking in secret glee of being on the other smug side of the fence for once. While ferrying the massive bouquet of Champagne and Pink Roses I had picked (Red is just so over-done…) to the car, I was aware of being thrown some looks of envy from other girls who were flower-less. Yet, while I was silently gloating: “Nice right? Nice right?!?!?”, a part of me twinged within because the anti-climatic truth was that they were NOT MINE. By the time I managed to locate a suitably large and sappily romantic heart-shaped Helium balloon with “Happy Valentine’s Day” (and with a singing mechanism to boot!), I was over my initial joy through vicarious living. To be honest, I did feel like a right prat walking down the street with that massive pink atrocitiy (although I normally am a huge fan of all things pink). Of course, with so many people witnessing my solo exit from the store, I could not even pretend that someone had given it to me….Oh the horrors! Thankfully, I was able to salvage some sort of dignity with my new Oversized sunnies (which broke my shopping budget but was definitely worth the prize in this scenario!) Nobody does sunnies better than Dior for the days when you want to make looking bored and evil so effortless (or exude uber nonchalance). In any case, my display of utter coolness was of course, ruined by the revenge of my perpetual dag-iness when I got bopped in the head by that stupid balloon while wrestling it into the car boot. Still, I tried…

Yet, I wasn’t exactly totally neglected. I did get an overseas call from a certain someone wishing me Valentine’s Day (the warm glow was slightly ruined by the following enquiries as to how to use my washing machine). Still, I’d like to be kind and give him points for even calling. At this moment, he and I are exploring uncharted waters and I am at lost as to what to do…Do I believe that he is really taking baby steps to making a real go at a relationship with me or is he playing games again? I guess, time and my arrival back where he is can only tell….

My mother did make some comments throughout the day that did get me thinking. For one, she was a little amazed that girls in high school were carrying around several bunches of flowers as she felt that they were a little too young (forgiveable considering that she’s from a much more conservation and old-fashioned era). I did explain to her that people start dating younger nowadays and besides, they could have been gifts from friends. This astounded her further as she found the concept of girls giving their girl friends flowers for fun beyond her. But she did have a point…I remember being in high school when I used to buy scores of flowers or candies to distribute to friends (in hope of receiving some in return); the bottom-line being that the more gifts you received, the more popular you feel. Yes, we all do stupid things in our youth…

Sometimes, I feel that expectations can spoil the element of surprise or appreciation of gifts. Somehow, it reduces the gifting to a token gesture. My mother confided to me that while my father was not a particularly romantic man who would take her out on romantic dates or buy her flowers on Valentine’s Day, she was never disappointed or in doubt that he loves and cares for her. She, in fact, claims that my father positively dotes on…not through grandoise gestures but through the little things he does for her everyday such as coming after a long day of work to cook dinner for her; waking up early on weekends to buy her favourite local fare from the markets; calling her immediately when he arrives at whatever foreign country he has gone to for business. Of course, my father is not utterly devoid of romance; after a recent trip to Switzerland, my father presented my mother with a 10-carat emerald cut diamond ring “just cause”.

Now, my mother is a complex, complicated volatile woman with a fierce temper. She does not appreciate being rushed or criticized and can make Miranda Priestly look like a saint given the mood. After years out of the workforce, my mother has lost touch with what’s in or hot in the world. She’s not the most sophisticated or polished person but she will make you laugh and feel extremely comfortable. My mother may be socially-awkward at times and shy from taking any self-improvement lessons; she may throw tantrums for the tinniest reasons but but she is also a warm, kind-hearted woman with a big, generous heart.

My father loves my mother despite her imperfections. She may seemingly be a terrifying virago, but that’s not who he sees (or what he chooses to focus on): he sees a woman with no typical tai-tai vices; someone who in 33 years of marriage may never have said she loves him or misses him but shows it in the way she wakes up early to accompany him at breakfast and sees him off to work; in the way that she calls him several times a day when they are not in the same country (or sometimes even when they are in the same country); in the way she trusts him whole-heartedly even when he travels five months out of the year and works in an industry not unknown for the cultivation of broken marriages. He sees a woman who loves her children with all her heart and more (and is constantly telling his children to appreciate that).

To me, it’s a sign of true love that is enduring and real; something that trumps any grandoise gestures of romance. A girl may be swept off her feet by such antics but will he be there ready to catch her before she falls?

I believe such a love is rare and to be honest, I think Fairytale-endings and Happily Ever Afters are not that common despite what all little girls have been brought up to believe (with the help of Disney). Yet, a part of me still hopes that maybe, just maybe… there’s still a chance for me to find that someone whose skies are grey without me and vice-versa. Someone to make the days worth living (even through the good, bad and especially, mundane).

So, there’s no need to sweep me off my feet, really….( I’d rather not ruin my heels… *wink*)

Bleeding Love

Closed off from love
I didn’t need the pain
Once or twice was enough
And it was all in vain
Time starts to pass

It's been over a month since I got on an airplane bound for home... It was a hurried departure that felt abrupt but yet was months in the planning. My reluctance to leave made me leave packing till the last possible minute; a choice entirely unwise for one who travels with lots of baggage (emotional and otherwise). Needless to say, I was rushed and unprepared and entirely frazzled all the way to the airport. The first moment of peace I got was after I had plopped down into my cramped plane seat. Unfortunately, that little moment of peace evaporated quicker than ice in the Sahara when I felt the the first tear roll down my cheek; it wasn't quite the stray, isolated tear either: being quickly joined by another and then another...basically a continuous flow throughout my 7 hour flight home. Dehydration, though, was the least of my problems.

Before you know it you’re frozen
But something happened
For the very first time with you
My heart melts into the ground
Found something true
And everyone’s looking round
Thinking I’m going crazy

Somehow, I didn't how we said "Goodbye". I, especially, didn't like the fact that everytime I leave, it's always in the midst of a huge drama or under extremely unhappy circumstances. Being back home felt strange; the feeling of being in a familar room but the entire room had been rearranged and nothing was in its old spot. Re-integrating myself back into the family was overwhelming; trying to hide the pain of leaving a huge part of me behind in Melbourne while trying to show that I was happy to be back and seeing my loved ones.

But I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I Keep bleeding

Only in the middle of the day when everyone has slunk off to their own purposeful, busy lives that I was left to contemplate the mess that was my love life. Perhaps I was doing myself no favors and being a tad masochistic in reading and re-reading the email he sent my on Christmas day every single day but somehow the one piece of communication that hurt me the most was also the one connection that I had left to him. Each time I read it, I felt raw and overwrought and I would come away from it with new doubts and different conclusions. I was going crazy missing someone so much but the only face the rest of my world saw was the plastered-on smile.

Trying hard not to hear
But they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears
Try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that the goal
Is to keep me from falling

Distractions I had a few: friends from overseas who came to visit, helping me to ease the homesickness; knowing that I was a canary stuck in a gilded cage: one forced in after it had its taste of freedom but that's another story for another day. I also had the gym...I was training 3 days a week and running 6 km, 5 days a week. At times, it felt as if I wasn't just running to lose the weight but I was trying to run away from my problems. I was obsessed: I was going to get thin or die trying...Anything if it meant that I'd finally get what I want. My friends thought I was crazy and hiding my lack of eating was becoming harder but somehow, it was the one thing that I had control over and I clung onto it fiercely.

But nothing’s greater
Than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness I see your face
Yet everyone around me
Thinks that I’m going crazy

Then, one month after I left, you call me just when I'm overseas trying to forget you by partying as hard as I can...and in one moment, everything I had fought so hard to gain; everything that I had tried to suppress or forget came crashing down like a House of Cards. I couldn't speak as I felt the huge lump in throat; so much to say and so much feelings rushing around in my heart and head. I was scared yet happy: wondering if you were playing mind games with me again or if you really did miss me. But overwhelmingly, the one feeling that stood out the most was how achingly much I miss you and wished I was there with you.

Just when I thought it was safe to come out from under the covers, the dark looms again...Making me gasp in fear; wondering if I am right to be scared or if I am just being silly.

Show me a definite sign that I'm not the biggest fool for hanging onto my feelings for you... Please.

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.