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.

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.