I'm not your Mrs. Right, but...

As I sat with Mr. P yesterday in front of the TV watching yet another horror flick, guessing who was going to die next, our conversation took a turn to this...

"I'm getting married next year" I say suddenly. 

"What? You're kidding.." he says, looking at me disbelievingly.

"No, I'm not. I'm serious. It's all set. I'm working out the details now."

He's silent. I stare at the TV trying not to laugh. After a while...

"How did this happen?" he asks.

I say as nonchalantly as I can, "Oh, it's an arranged marriage. My mum introduced us."

"You are kidding, right?"

I don't answer. I just smile. Still not looking at him.

"God. You're serious! What the fuck?"

"Why can't I get married?" I ask.

"But why arranged? What..you can't meet someone at a bar or something?"  he says mockingly.

"Well, I haven't met anyone 'marriable' at a bar so far.... I don't think that's going to change."

"What dodgy bars do you hanging out at?" he quips.

I smack him.

He laughs. Then says "Well, it is very third world of you... "

"What? Shut up. I'm not getting any younger. And I want a baby."

"I'll give you a baby" he says kissing me at the side of my head.

"Very funny" I retort, "I can't have a baby out of wedlock. Too much of a scandal."

"Then we should get married" he states readily.

Then he starts laughing.

 Idiot.

I deserve better.

I've been repeating these words in my head like a mantra. This past week, it is how I greet myself in the mornings. I wake up and my mind, as a habit, starts thinking about him. But instead of allowing myself to wallow in some sentimental, nostalgic thought, I shake it off and tell myself, I deserve better.

Because you know what? I do. 

I mean I know this. It is not an overnight realisation. It is not something that just suddenly came to me. I know this. I demand quality in almost all aspects of my life. My family, my friends, my job, where I live, the places I eat.

I work hard and I get paid well for it. I have been blessed with a supportive, loving family. I mean we have our issues but underlying all that is a steady, unwavering love which keeps me strong even in my darkest moments. And my friends... I have no time for wayward friends.

I generally eat well. I take care of my body. My studio is cosy and comfortable because I've made it so. I love going back to my place to unwind after a long day at work. I've filled it with photographs of happy memories, little plants, plenty of books, my travel artifacts and scented candles. The rent is costly, but I pay it because I deserve a good place to live. I bought myself a decent car because I wanted one to drive around. I buy myself gorgeous shoes because I basically deserve those little treats. I spend money on manicures and pedicures and facials and spas and little holidays because I deserve all of this.

So why is it, when I demand for so much from basically all aspects of my life, do I settle for so little when it comes to a boy? Why do I make excuses for him and tell myself it is OK that he did not show on the day we were supposed to meet to have our 'talk'? Why did I so readily accept his apology the next day when he claimed 'some things came up'... when I knew he was deliberately avoiding me? Why did I excuse his behaviour based on some bullshit that I've been fed that says guys hate confrontation and so it makes it OK for him to not show? Newsflash - I hate confrontations too, but I'm willing to do it because WE FUCKING HAVE ISSUES TO RESOLVE!

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Talking to a friend last Thursday showed me just how many excuses I was making for him. All to justify me continuing to see him, talk to him and be with him. The cherry on the icing has to be when I told her "You know, I feel if I gave up on him, there might not be anyone else who'd really be there for him. He is that isolated."

She looked at me and said what any good friend would in that situation "Babe, that honestly is his problem. You should take care of yourself first, don't you think?"

Hmm. Succinct.

So, no doubt he has been my friend. No doubt he has cheered me up when I was feeling down. No doubt we have fun when we are together.

But, we have crossed lines that friends should not have crossed. We have said and done things which make a platonic relationship impossible. All that loving in the dark, forbidden touches, whispers of sweet nothings, only to be greeted by the harsh light of the next day, where he pretends I didn't spend the night in his arms and I pretend it's fine, because I don't want to bloody rock the boat - it is not what I want.

Because guess what, I fucking deserve better.

Drunk

In her glazy, drunken haze, her subconscious made one last feeble attempt, 'He’s getting married next week. Don’t do it.'

Perhaps if her subconscious had been louder.. Because all she heard was the sound of  blood rushing to her head going whoosh, like waves hitting the shore. And his voice whispering “Oh, god, you’re so hot” as his hand groped her butt and squeezed it hard.

"Let's get out of here" she said.

He breathed "OK" and the sour fumes of the whiskey they'd been drinking since 6pm hit her square in the face.

They scrambled for their wallets, paid the waiter probably more than was needed and stumbled out of the bar, giggling.

Groundhog Day

So, from the 3 questions I received from Lifebeginsat30ty's Blogger Santa project,  I've chosen to write about a day in my life that I wouldn't mind re-living over and over again.

The thing is there are so many days to pick from that I had a hard time pinning it down to one. I mean I’ve had so many fun-filled days where I felt like I was at a theme park trying to pick which ride to go on next.

But when it comes down to actually choose one day, I pick a day, which at that time, signified a possibility… a chance at something potentially wonderful happening in my life…

The day starts with me waking up to find myself in his arms. I stiffen at first at the unusualness of the situation. Then a warm glow passes through me as I realise whose arms I’m in. I stay there basking in the warmth of his embrace as I try to recollect how we got here. The last I remember he’d tucked me in his bed and although I had drunkenly asked him to stay with me, left the room to go sleep on the couch. He must have changed his mind sometime during the night. I smile to myself.

I feel him stirring. And I close my eyes, pretending to sleep. He shifts. He’s probably uncomfortable as my head is resting on his right arm. So I turn towards him and find him looking at me. I smile. His eyes crinkle as he returns my smile.

He then gives me a tickle and jumps out of bed before dashing into the bathroom. When he comes out, he slides back into bed next to me. I smell peppermint on his breath. I know what’s going to happen next, so I follow suit. I wake up to freshen up, brush my teeth and apply some Body Shop shea butter to my lips.

I come back to bed and lie next to him. He’s switched on the TV and I pretend watching it for a while but his fingers moving up and down my arm is distracting me. I turn towards him and he looks at me for the longest time before his lips close down on mine. It’s not exactly our first kiss as I kissed him the night before (drunkenly). But let’s say it’s our first proper kiss.

We stay in bed for the most part of the day, just kissing. We take little breaks from kissing when he orders us some lunch from McDonalds and we eat the lunch not leaving his bed. But other than that we just kiss and kiss and kiss. He doesn’t grope me. He doesn’t try get into my pants. He just kisses me. His hands move under my shirt a few times but stop short from touching my breasts. I’m not sure if he’s teasing me or taking it slow.

We hardly exchange any words. Seems as though words just aren’t necessary. With our bodies glued, our lips entwined do all the talking for us.

It starts getting dark outside, and we get hungry. He asks me if I’d like to eat. I say yes, but we alternate between kissing each other and just lying there, me in his arms, as though reluctant to leave the bed.

Finally, we do get out of bed. I shower and change out of his shirt which he lent me the night before. We decide to go for Chinese. I check the time, it’s almost 10pm. We’ve spent an entire day in bed just kissing.

As we walk into the restaurant our hands brush each others. We order this spicy chicken dish which I love which comes with curry leaves and some rice. Sitting opposite him in the restaurant, as we wait for our food to come, I look at him in a whole new light.

Yesterday, he was just my friend. Today however, he may be infinitely more.

She's just not that into you!

Fine, I'm not that into you...

a) when I don't pick up my phone when you call. And no, I am not playing hard to get.

b) when I don't return your texts. Its mostly because I don't think it's necessary for me to report to you on my day and also probably because I don't have an appropriate response when you text me 'hey, how you doing?' when I'm in the midst of a meeting or I'm pulling my hair out trying to meet a deadline. But it could also be because I just forgot. Yes, that's how little you cross my mind.

c) and when I do return one text after your three incessant ones, it is only because I'm being polite and hate to see you be so pathetic. And if my text says 'hey, been busy. talk later' I don't really want to talk later, I'm just procastinating, and I'm hoping you're not so thick to not take a hint.

d) but if you are that thick and take my 'talk later' text as an invitation to call me later, please refer to (a) above.

e) when I tell you I'm not looking for anything random or otherwise right now, I'm basically telling you to back off. Leave me alone. I'm just not into you. Of course I'm looking for a relationship with the man of my dreams, it's just that I don't think you're cute enough or funny enough for me to want to date you and yes, I can make up my mind on that in the first five minutes from when I meet you.

f) and no I don't want to be 'just' friends. I have enough friends. Please don't pretend that you want to be 'just' friends, when it's so darn obvious you want to get into my pants.

Ladies, feel free to add on to this list :)

 

First winter

His smile. His eyes. His hair falling over his eyes. He needed a haircut. Or maybe not. He carried the straggly look pretty well.

She knew he was waiting at the train station for her. He said he'd bring an extra jacket. It was her first time anywhere in winter. She'd never experienced it before and didn't know how thick a jacket she should get. That's what she told him. The truth was she couldn't afford a nice winter jacket and didn't want to show up in something cheap.

Ridiculously hot women...

...should not be allowed to roam the streets freely, making the rest of us look and feel bad.

Why can't they just confine themselves to the fantasy world of movies, magazines, reality shows or whatever, where you can have at least a little window for skeptism i.e. she's been photoshopped, it's a body double, ahh.. definitely plastic surgery!

But, when one of these women escape the fantasy world and wonder into your reality, it just makes you question all of god's fairness. See, why on earth was she created with such flawless skin, smooth as alabaster, when your own breaks out every month close to your period. Why does she get hair that is so long and thick and luscious when your own only grows to a certain length and then starts splitting at the end. To top it, you think you might be suffering from premature balding because everytime you wash your hair, the amount of hair that drops from your head after you've applied your conditioner is so not funny and ends up clogging your drain.

You've always thought you have pretty eyes. Received a nice compliment or two on them. But they're nothing compared to her middle-eastern, kohl-rimmed, cat eyed perfection. Her nose is small, straight and perfect whereas yours has a little bump on it because clumsy you ran straight into a tree when you were eleven when you thought a dog was chasing you.

Generally, you like your body. Never had much issues with it except maybe your boobs may be shrinking because the strapless bra that fit you just nice last month feels as though they're dropping off when you wear them now. But she. Oh my god she... has a body that is made for men to drool, salivate, slobber over. She's not the skinny, model-ly type. Instead she has an impeccable ass that seems to defy gravity, boobs which are big and perky enough to fill out a tube dress without looking as though they require a bra to help hold them up and then tops that with a ridiculously tiny waist.

Your wardrobe is a decent mix of work and party clothes which you like but nothing jaw dropping, nothing that would make a man stop and stare on the street. Your clothes make you feel comfortable and look nice enough to maybe fetch an admiring glance or two. Her's on the other hand is downright show-stopping, doesn't seem to matter whether she's just hanging out with her friends on what looks like a casual saturday or hitting the club. And she wears them with this fiesty arrogance that screams 'I know I'm hot. And I know you bloody well think so too!'.

Aah. Its disgusting how insecure and jealous she makes you feel. But you can't help it, especially since you find out the guy you went on this really nice date with, whom you actually liked, is now dating her instead. So, you do the only thing you can do to make yourself feel a little better...

...you console yourself by telling yourself she probably is stupid, has bad English and he is only dating her for her looks!

'Just' a fuck buddy?

Having just started my new job, I've had little time to date and also blog about it. But I'm slowly settling in, and hopefully will start having more time in my hands.

A quick update nevertheless.

I met up with Mr P a couple of times in the last few weeks. (Note:Mr.P is a photographer I met a long while back, who has a tendency to waltz in and out of my life pretty randomly and unpredictably. Having not developed any attachment to him because of this, I have been okay at keeping everything casual.)

My resolution to keep him only as a 'fuck buddy' however, just got disrupted this morning by me adding him on FB....um....again. I'd deleted him some time back when I thought I was getting overly involved emotionally (and he was not) and I didn't want any updates on his life which might affect me in any way. But having moved passed all that, on impulse yesterday, I requested his friendship again with this message...

"hey. looked you up on FB. again. deleted you before during a childish fit (probably cause you didn't reply a message or something). but i've grown up since ;)"

He's added me already. In the mean time, I got a text from him at 2am this morning...

"Happy birthday. Hope you're not getting laid without me. I didn't realise you deleted me on FB. I'm hurt."

My first thought though was.. damnit. The idiot didn't even realise I'd not been on his FB! And my birthday was bloody weeks ago..!

Controlling my urge to scold him about it, I said instead..."lol. you wished me last week when you met me drunkard. and no i didn't get laid without you. please don't be hurt :p"

Right. So having said that, there were just two things left for me to do...

1) Inspect all his photos which he has been tagged AND his albums.... check!

2) Stalk his wall posts.......and check!!

After all the stalking, I have come to admit, he is an amazing photographer. And trust me to develop a crush on someone over something like that.


Damn. So much for just fuck buddy.

Old. But oh so not wise...

I turn thirty-one tomorrow. *Gasp* *Groan*

Having touched the Big three-O last year and having thrown a big, huge party for that one, this year, in contrast, is going to be pretty low key.

A quick stock take:

On relationships...

...No husband in the horizon. But fuck that. I can't seem to meet anyone interesting enough to get me even remotely excited to meet on a second date. Why is that I wonder. Either I'm being very picky. Or I'm emotionally unavailable. Or there just aren't any decent men (qualification: within proximity) out there anymore. Or they are married. Gay. Yes, yes, the same old cliche.

...Apparently, I can handle a fuck-buddy relationship. I met Mr.P last weekend for a booty call of sorts. It has been a (long) while. I was horny. He was available. We met on the pretext of catching the World Cup at a bar. Adjourned to my place for the next game, which of course we ended up not really watching. All I can say is, the sex was incredible. I was left sated, satisfied and with absolutely no intention of calling him or expectation of him calling me after.

...4 years ago, I thought I was ready to settle down with my now ex, A. Then came Mr. Stupid. Who pretty much turned my world upside down. And based on recent developments, I have strong suspicion he may not be dating Ms Gab-A-Lot anymore. Which has, of course, made me indulge in some very stupid wishful thinking on my part. Anyway, moving on..

On life in general...

...I'm in a good place career wise. In fact, I start my new job next week. It is going to be challenging and pretty different from what I'm used to, but it's going to be a good challenge I believe. I've done good here.

...I am not spending enough time with family, especially my parents and I should. No one is getting any younger.

...friends are great, as always. Not sure what I'd do without them. Love you guys.

...blogging has given me a kind of escape which is very gratifying. I always feel a little lighter after I've spilled out whatever is on my mind into words. And reading other bloggers going through similar issues, though worlds apart, literally, sort of makes me feel better too.

What I need to do more of...

...exercise.

...make time for holidays.

...oh and have more incredible, satisfying sex hopefully ;)

So yeah, happy birthday to me. Woo hoo.

Should a guy pay...

...on a first date?

I’ve been asking myself this since I went on a date with another guy from Match.com. I really liked his profile and he had a nice smile (yes, yes I'm a sucker for a cute smile). I’ll call him… Mr. Maybe.

When we exchanged numbers, he called almost immediately. The first time we spoke for about 15 minutes. The next day he called again and we spoke for an hour and half – which was not usual for me. But he was able to converse on a variety of subjects, he was funny and he kinda 'got' me. I was pleasantly surprised. He didn’t ask me out right away which was good – not desperate I thought. And when he did finally ask me out 2 days later, it was very casual and I agreed immediately.

The date itself wasn’t too bad... so much as first dates go. The chemistry wasn’t fantastic but it was enjoyable in a light-hearted kind of way.

He was 25 minutes late, but very apologetic about it. Apparently he had to work at the last minute. There was a que at the restaurant we went to and the only available section was the smoking side so we sat there, next to the bar. He lit a cigarette as soon as we sat but not before asking ‘do you mind’? I didn’t know how to say ‘yes, I do mind’ so instead I smiled and shook my head.

We ordered drinks. And chatted a bit about our travelling adventures. Well, his travelling adventures mostly. He asked me if I’d been to the US…I said no. He then ventured to tell me what a great place it was and gave me a very detailed account of one of his camping trips where he’d almost encountered a bear. The bear story continued for quite a bit, but it was alright..like I said, he was amusing enough. But I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps if he stopped talking for a bit and asked a little more questions, he’d find that I’ve been to some pretty cool places too. Only he didn’t.

We talked some more trivial stuff. Ordered our food. Exchanged jokes. Drank some more. It was 10.30pm, about 2 and a half hours into our date when my phone buzzed. I was supposed to meet some friends for drinks after. I was told that if the date went well, I should bring him along. After a tiny mental battle whether I should or should not, I decided to ask him. I wasn’t having too bad a date and it might be a good time to see if he was cool to hang out with at a club. But he said he couldn’t - apparently needing to take his parents to church early the next morning. I teased him about being a mummy’s boy. He laughed it off saying no, he isn’t... normally.

Then the weirdest thing happened. The bill came. Out of habit, I pulled my wallet out and took out a couple of notes. Usually (in fact, on all of my previous first dates) what happens next is the guy will tell me to put my wallet away and pay. And I allow it because really, as strange is this sounds, I like it when a man takes charge at the end of a date by footing the bill. It isn’t about the money. It is about being a gentleman… and knowing how to treat a lady. Same as opening the door for her or pulling out the chair for her. And no, I don’t expect the guy to foot all the bills for all our dates.. just the first ones, especially when it is the guy who asks me out. If ever we did go out on a second date, I’d insist on paying. If he didn’t let me, then there are things to consider like perhaps he's a chauvinist, which is a whole other can of worms and a topic for another day.

Anyway, what happened here, is that when I took my wallet out, he took the money I offered, added a couple of notes of his own to it and paid the waiter. When the change came, we split the change in half. I was left thinking, that maybe this wasn’t a romantic date after all.. perhaps he just wants to be friends?

After that he walked me to my car. When we reached the car, he turned to me, looked me in the eye, leaned forward and gave me a hug which lingered slightly longer than a 'just friends' hug should. Then he said that he would really, really like to see me again. Hmmm. Definitely more than friends vibe now. It was pretty confusing.

When I reached the club, I threw the question to all the guys who were at my table.. ‘when you take a girl out on a first date.. do you pay for the date?’. Every one of them gave a very emphatic and resounding ‘YES!’.

So, here are my musings...

Should the guy foot the bill on first dates?

And the big question - should I give Mr. Maybe another chance? (He's asked me out already... I'm stalling)

And the men get bitchy...

I have been ignoring calls and texts from Mr. Cricket and Mr.Texter, both of whom I met on Match.com.

Cricket
Cricket and I went on one date which lasted over one margarita before I excused myself to go home to have dinner… alone. He wanted to meet me the next day but I told him I couldn’t.. making up a really far fetched excuse about having to bathe my aunts dogs. He messaged me the following day ‘So, forgotten about me already? ;)’. I didn’t reply. And I never realised how lame and needy that line sounded, even as a joke - I've used it before on Mr.P, when I hadn't heard from him as soon as I wanted..and this after sleeping with him. Damnit.

Anyway, Cricket called me that night… I just didn’t feel like answering and I didn't. Two days later he messaged asking if something was wrong. I guess I could have told him I wasn’t interested (though I felt I’d given him enough hints.. I mean seriously how thick can you be?). But I wasn’t in the mood to go into discussions of 'whys' and 'why nots', so I told him ‘I’m kinda going through some personal stuff right now. Can’t deal with anything else. I’ll call you.’ Which wasn’t exactly a lie. I had an uncle in the hospital and I was busy chauffeuring my aunts and relatives around. But mostly I was putting off dealing with him, hoping that he’d get it finally when I don’t call him again...ever.

Texter
Texter and I never even got to our first date because his messages were so random and weird and difficult to understand that I just stopped replying. His last message to me despite the fact that I’d ignored 5 of his previous texts… ‘gd mrng gorgeous. hp u hv a wonderful dy..otw 2 wrk?’. I wasn’t even out of bed yet when my phone beeped with this message. It annoyed the hell out of me. I have no clue what runs through someone's mind when they send texts like these..

Anyway, thanks to these two, I hadn’t logged on to Match for a while.. until last weekend.

Apparently, my sessions on Match have been tracked. Both Cricket and Texter who remained mostly silent as long as I wasn’t logged on to Match, once they realized I was still on it, responded in ways I never thought men ever would…

The first was an email from Cricket…

“Guess I won't be hearing from you again. I had already expected it but it would have been nice if you had at least been honest with me.”

Huh???

Dude, we’ve only been on one date…what’s with the drama?

And then, as I was still trying to wrap my head around that email…I realised Texter had deleted me from his Facebook account.


Well, I guess I deserved that.

Sex

Sex was never a comfortable subject at home when I was growing up. And that’s putting it mildly. When I was 9, I’d just purchased a bookmark from a bookstore and on it was a word I had never seen before - SEX.

So I asked my mum just as we were about to get in the car ‘What is sex?’.

She gave me a horrified look, choked on the drink she was sipping, then demanded angrily where I’d heard the word. Startled by her reaction, I showed her the bookmark I’d purchased and saw her expression change from angry to something inexplicable.. embarrassed? The word ‘Sex’ on the bookmark came below ‘Name’ and ‘Age’. She mumbled something like ‘Oh that just means you write whether you’re male or female’. Slightly hurt that she got angry with me over that, I was silent the whole way home. Her reaction also made me curious. So I remember digging up the dictionary as soon as I got back.

When I was 9, the internet did not exist. I believe, I would have gotten very different answers from google than I did from the dictionary when I looked up the word. It did not tell me anything. My friends at school, and I come from an all girls school, were as clueless as me.

I read my first Mills and Boons novel when I was fourteen. Halfway through the book, I had to stop and look up words such as ‘nipple’ and ‘suckle’ and ‘manhood’ and ‘engorged’. I watched my 1st porno movie at a friends place when I was sixteen. She had stolen it from her brothers porn stash and invited us all over to watch it together after school. We giggled as we watched the actors slowly get naked and start kissing each other…everywhere. I, however, was horrified at the sight of a man spreading a womans leg and licking her there. I didn’t know people did that! But in the end, we agreed it was all very educational.

By now, I knew what sex was, no thanks to my parents or school. Porn tapes and romance novels fed everything I knew about sex at seventeen. It was also the year I shared my first kiss with a guy who was four years older than me, a bad boy of sorts whom I had a big thing for at the time. It was at the last row of a cinema and I gasped when he reached for my breast. He wanted to go further, but I was too anxious and pushed him away. We might have continued as he was pretty persistent in his kissing and his groping, only the movie ended. I never met him again. 


First times anyone? ;)

Date # 2...not!

Date Number Two from Match.com was supposed to be with a guy I’m going to call Mr. Texter. He had a decent profile picture, a cute smile and was nicely skinny. He seemed normal enough in his profile and we had almost identical matches.

But the date never happened. And here’s why…

Mr. Texter and I exchange a couple of emails before I pass him my number. The 1st text I receive,

‘hy gorgeous, tx 4 passin me ya no. hv a nc day’

I’m put off with his texting style. But decide to give him a chance. So I reply him ‘Sure. And thanks, you too’

That night he texts me again asking me if I was free to talk. I don’t see the text till very late and don’t bother replying till the next morning. I say ‘Hey, good morning. Sorry, but I fell asleep pretty early last night.’

I get this reply ‘gd mrng princess. na wriez. conv 2 talk nw?’

Firstly, why on earth was he calling me princess? And, what the hell was ‘na wriez’??

After I took a moment to decipher this, I realize he meant ‘no worries’. Despite the sirens going off in my head, I replied ‘Hey, I’m at work now. Best if you call me after work, say after 7pm?’

He says OK. I just said a silent prayer that he spoke better than he typed and soon was too consumed with work to think about him.

About lunch time, I get a text from him saying ‘hy gal, hws ya dy so far? al gd I hope. js hd lunch. hd urs? ’

Now. Why did he need to know that? We haven’t had a proper conversation so far and he’s asking me about my lunch? I don’t reply.

Anyway, that’s not the worst of it.

Since I’d told him to call me after 7, I was expecting him to just pick up the phone and call. But no, I get another text from him at 10.40pm ‘hy gal, hw ya doin? al gd? conv 2 talk nw?’

I stare at the text. Why was he doing this to me?

Irritated but also curious whether he'd finally call me I replied at 10.48pm, ‘Sure’.

I wait for the phone to ring. It doesn’t.

I get this text from him at 11.10pm... ‘hy gal, u aslp? conv 2 talk nw?’


I am really starting to have second thoughts about this whole internet dating thing….

Am I finally growing up?

I miss him. And I wonder why I do. So much time has passed and so much has happened between us. Surely I should haved moved on?

It started one night, 4 years ago, when he offered to send me back after a night of drunken debauchery. And I let him. I was in a jubilant state, having just passed one of the most difficult exams in my field and he just so happened to be there to celebrate with me. He was a perfect gentleman, who dropped me home and left without so much as say or try anything funny. I felt safe with him.. and it marked the beginning (and set the pattern) of our little liaison.

We both seemed to be carved out of the same tree... with a common desire to party till we dropped, always on the lookout for the next club to hit as the night was always still young and after which we’d head out to each others place so we could enjoy some quiet drinks with each other after.

It was all very platonic. He was always the perfect gentlemen, never one to misbehave when drunk. Plus, I had a boyfriend at the time. A non-present boyfriend as it was a long distance relationship. Which I guess was the perfect recipe for disaster as I chose this guy to have a good time with considering my boyfriend was never around. Cheating you say? Of course not. I wasn’t doing anything other than just party with him after which he’d drop me home safe. (Ha!)

I called him my party-man.
Soon, party-man started asking me to hang out with him more and more. From parties, it became drinks after work, then dinners and drinks, then hanging out with his buddies, then came the movies and the shopping escapades. I helped pick out the furniture for his new apartment. I was supposed to help him pick out the curtains and also the pictures to adorn his wall. But our drama started soon after, so right now 3 years later, his place is still without curtains or pictures. Trust a man to procrastinate these things.

I initiated our first kiss. Drunk.
I had decided I was breaking up with my boyfriend because I was obviously starting to like my party-man. So one night, after our usual partying circuit, I ended up in his place and was planning to stay the night being in no condition to drive back. I was in his room about to change my clothes when he walked in to see if I was okay. I don’t remember the exact sequence of events considering how intoxicated I was, but he was seated on the bed…I think I had pushed him there. And I sat on top of him and kissed him. It didn’t go further than kissing. We slept in each others arms that night.

And then, he initiated our first kiss. Sober.

The next day, I was lying in his arms, pretending to watch tv but really, I was very conscious of his constant glances at me and the movements of his fingers up and down my arms. My heart was beating like a drum and I was pretty sure he could hear it. Not entirely sure of his intentions, I turned to face him. We gazed into each others eyes for a moment, then his lips slowly descended onto mine.

It wasn’t the best of kisses. Nor was it the worst. It was somewhere in between. Slightly awkward as it was definitely new territory but thrilling at the same time. He wasn’t very pushy with his tongue, which was a first for me because all the guys I’d kissed before loved shoving their tongue into my mouth. Him… he was milder, but not in a bad way. I liked the way he drew my tongue into his mouth and let me explore. It made me feel bold.

Weird how I remember these details.

Our relationship soon after became a haze of dinners, nights out in town and make out sessions back in his place. At some point we slept with each other. Soon, I started spending my entire weekends with him and sometimes, he even dropped me to work on Mondays. We loved each others company and spoke to each other almost everyday. I was travelling a lot then, so when I was absent in some foreign country or other, we’d still keep in touch over the phone, texting or calling. And when I got back, we’d celebrate by going out and getting smashed.

I loved it.

But I also hated it. Because we were doing everything a couple would do, but we weren’t officially a couple. I tried talking to him but all I got was vague responses. It pissed me off.

I would have played my cards very differently if only I was less absorbed in my emotions of feeling wronged and took a little more responsibility for my own actions. I would have played it differently if only I had a little more self-control and didn’t always give in to my whims and need for instantaneous gratification. I would have played my cards very differently if only I had known what I stood to loose.

About 3 months into us doing this dance, I gave him my ultimatum. But everytime something happened or we met each other by chance or at a party, or he called, I’d go back on my resolution to not give in to him. I was weak. Granted, so was he. But I had more to loose than him as I wanted us to be a couple, whereas he wasn’t so sure. In fact, by being so weak, I was actually pushing him in the opposite direction of where I wanted him to go.

I didn’t see this then. I see it now.

Today, we remain friends despite having been through all this drama. Our friendship I have to admit has a lot of undercurrents and sexual tension along with it. Chemistry crackles, conversation flows and time flies when we’re in each others presence without either of us realising it. And we still make each other laugh. I feel there are some unopened doors still left between us. Whether or not we’re going to venture to open them, I really don’t know.

Pretty recently, he’d just started going on dates with someone new. He’s not one to rush into things and is generally cautious (the trait that drove me nuts) so I’m guessing, hoping rather, its not serious yet. Still the thought of him with another woman…well... kinda breaks my heart.

I’m backing off though. It’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But he deserves a chance of finding out what is it that he truly wants.

Date # 1

After subscribing to Match.com, I had two dates planned over the weekend but one got rescheduled to this Thursday. So this is the story of how my date numero uno went with... (introducing) Mr. Cricket.


A good start...
Mr. Cricket sends me a message that is funny enough to make me respond although he isn't that much of a looker in his photos. He’s 39 and supposedly fit so hey, what the hell I thought. Fast forward a few emails, he gives me his number and says 'call me or message me if you're brave enough'. Before I can respond, he sends me this email...

'By the way...if you prefer that I call you, please give me your number and let me make the 1st move. After thinking about it, I thought that it was unfair of me to expect you to call when I really should be the one to call you. Until then, take care and have a great week ahead Miss Angry.'

Not bad I think, so I text him and we set the time and date for our little date. He doesn't mind meeting for lunch, coffee or dinner and asks me to choose. I pick coffee (duh!).

I get lazy…
I'd nothing much to do on Saturday, so I pop in a dvd and start on some housework. Before long, I abandon all attempts to clean my apartment and sit glued in front of the TV because the dvd I popped was Spartacus - Blood and Sand, a glorious galore of gorgeous men with the most beautiful bodies and as little cloth to cover it as possible.

So when the time comes for me to get ready for the date, I'm actually reluctant to switch off the dvd player. I start coming up with excuses to cancel in my head…then catch myself and scold myself into getting ready.

The descent…
I arrive on time for the date. Its really hot outside, so I'd chosen to wear a yellow, sleeveless, floral top paired with capri pants and sandals. I wait under some shade in front of Starbucks and check the time. He's eight minutes late. Slightly annoyed, I start typing him a text when my phone rings. Its him. I tell him I'm at Starbucks and he says he’ll meet me there. I wait and soon I see a guy walking purposefully toward me.

The first thing that strikes me as he reaches me: he's dressed all wrong. At temperatures of 36 degrees no less, he's wearing something that looks like a cross between a sweater and a long sleeve shirt tucked into jeans. Uh-oh.

He shakes my hand. Its sweaty and sticky. I notice he looks rounder than his profile pictures. Also, he's bald and I can see the sweat glistening on his shiny, bald head. I'm glad he doesn't move to hug me.

It gets worse…
I decide I need some alcohol to get through this although its only 5pm on a Saturday. So, we go to this little air-conditioned bar and I order margaritas and he has himself a long island iced tea.

I notice he is staring at me a lot. And I think I may have snot in my nose or something. I self-consciously look away and wonder if I should dash to the washroom to check.

Then he says ‘You’re gorgeous. Just like in your pictures’.

‘Why, thank you’ I say. But I really can’t bring myself to return the compliment because honestly, he looked better in the pictures.

The drinks come, and we talk about each others work, always a great conversation starter and I can see he loves what he does for a living as he delves into the details. I’m spacing out when we switch to family and some general stuff like what we love doing in our past time. He talks about cricket with a passion and tells me how he loves the game. I can’t relate. But you can see why he got the name.

Finally, the deal breaker…
I generally don’t talk about exes or past loves on a first date (even on 2nd or 3rds) because seriously, its just bad dating etiquette. Vague remarks or funny one-liners are okay but nothing more than that. But this guy, wow, this guy had no qualms telling me all about his love history starting from the first girl he dated whom his parents did not want to let him marry, to the girl he finally married. And subsequently divorced. And how he was so bitter and angry after the divorce. And how he met this girl from China soon after the divorce and he dated her for 6 months although the girl did not speak any English and he did not speak any Chinese.

I'm like what the fuck?

So, I ask him how he managed 6 months with someone without any verbal communication? He says with a glint in his eye, that they communicated physically and then adds… also with their hands.

Okay. Gross.

He probably catches the look of disbelieve (or disgust) on my face and moves to back track. Saying that she was really wonderful and that she really knew how to treat a man. Cook for him and clean for him. In fact, after a long days work when he came to pick her up, she would give him gentle massages in the car, rubbing his shoulders and ahem certain other parts. I don't ask for details.

The poor man doesn’t realize he's making it worse with every additional sentence he continues talking about this relationship. When I, as casually as I can, ask him, why they broke up?

His response... ‘I wasn’t ready for a commitment…’

I look at him incredulously. That was the reason? Not the fact that they could not talk to each other?

I keep all thought to myself and just smile at him.

Seriously, I think he’s free to enjoy whatever relationship he wishes. BUT my mind had shut off at this point from this date…AND worse was drifting back to Spartacus. I’d rather (in fact couldn’t wait to) get back and watch my TV show than sit with this guy and talk somemore.

The End…
I make a move to leave after our first (and only) drink finishes. He actually looks disappointed and says he was hoping this would turn to dinner. I politely decline. When I get home I receive this text from him…

‘Hi Miss Angry, tat was one of the nicest dates I hav been on. I like that u can meet my gaze ;)’


Sigh. Really?

I finally succumbed...

...to internet dating.

After some consideration and given the current state of my love life or rather lack of it, I decided to subscribe to Match.com two days ago. And I must say I have been pleasantly surprised.

In the last 48 hours, my profile has apparently been viewed 149 times and I have received 11 emails and countless winks including a wink from a 90 year-old man.

I was curious about the 90 year-old so I viewed his profile and I noticed he had put up around 10 pictures and had a very long write-up about himself and what he was looking for. He stressed on how fit he was and how he exercised regularly. His profile seemed so eager and hopeful that it struck a cord in me. Here is a guy at 90 who is still out there looking for love like the rest of us.

Then I thought, it bloody doesn’t get easier does it?

Dear god, if that was me at 90, I’d want to kill myself. I’d probably want to kill myself if that was me at 40.

Depressed suddenly, I decided to read through all the emails I’d received. Out of the 11, 3 looked promising. Their pictures were alright and the emails funny. So, I replied to all 3 and now I have 2 dates set for this weekend. Which isn’t bad I guess (?)

Then I went to check out the guys who had viewed me. As I perused through the pages, I saw one guy who looked familiar. I clicked on his profile and realized he was a guy I’d been on a date with a while back, whom I thought was incredibly cute but who hadn’t made a move to ask me out after the date. Since I had found him oh-so-cute, I asked him out instead, to which he politely declined claiming some work commitments. So I wrote him off thinking he wasn’t interested. Later my friend who had set us up told me he had met another girl very soon after he went on that date with me and they had hooked up almost immediately.

So, what then was he doing here? And he’d been active in the last 24 hours!

Remembering how cute I’d found him, I asked my friend of his status but she didn’t know. I did the next thing I could think of. I stalked him on FB. His relationship status was back to single (yes, yes I stalked him before too) and the pictures of him tagged with the girl he’d been seeing had been removed. So, was he single again?

Saying a silent whoppee I decided to message him on FB and not on Match though perhaps I should have done it the other way around…

My message to him (when it seemed like a good idea) said…

“Hey. Didn't we meet once through that thing that Miss S set-up a while back? I can't remember when but I know we met at Chilis. Anyway, you popped up in the people you may know thingy and I thought you looked familiar, decided to say hi. So hows life and the dating going? ;)”

He hasn’t replied.

Crap.

I actually wish now I hadn’t sent the message at all. Why did I message him so impulsively without thinking it through? I’m pretty sure now he knows that I’ve viewed him on Match AND that I’ve stalked him on FB (no matter how blasé I tried to make my message sound). Nobody wants a stalker....!

Okay, so tell me what you think… how lame was it of me to message him that way? And should I even be expecting a response?

Sweep me off my feet already...!

I'm a romantic, still waiting for my knight in shining armour to sweep me off my feet.

In this day and age, I'm still expecting to be swept off my feet.

Here I am, a woman of 30, a professional in the corporate world, someone who makes presentations to the chairman of boards of multinationals and listed companies, who is about to be earning a five-figure salary in a couple of weeks when I start this new job.... wanting, really, really wanting to be swept off her feet.

Am I at the end of the day just a needy, romance novel heroine wannabe, wanting to be saved by the tall, dark and handsome stranger who finds me at my most vulnerable and thinks me endearing enough to fall in love with?

And then, of course, he has to sweep me off my feet.

I'm an idiot.. and he's stupid (part 2)

He kissed me that night.

And two days later he bailed on meeting me for dinner saying he had other plans he had forgotten about.

When I texted him saying ‘That’s too bad. Was looking forward to it’ his reply was ‘It would have been a great idea if things weren’t getting so complicated. Another time.’

Angry, I texted back ‘If that’s how you feel there won’t be another time. I’ll be out of your hair to make it all less complicated’.

Knowing how he avoided me like the plague when I get angry, I did not expect a response. So I was surprised when 4 minutes later, I got a long text from him saying ‘Think we have some issues. Cause we just can’t be doing this all the time and we have to move on somehow. Just like you, I have to sort my stuff out and since I can’t speak to you about it I am in a bit of a pickle. So, lets take a step back and see how to sort this out.’

It took me 3 hours to reply. I’d waited till I’d gotten my girlfriend Miss X’s input on this. We tried coming up with an appropriate response over some margaritas. After dissecting the text to pieces, we decided the best way to go would be a short and succinct text that did not show him I’d been affected by what he had said.

So my reply ‘I guess you’re right. Sorry to put you in a pickle’.

I didn’t hear from him for over a week until he called 2 nights ago. He asked me how things were and when I was starting my new job. We chatted a short bit on that. Then I asked him why he called.

His reply… ‘Simply’.


What. The. Fuck.

I'm an idiot.. and he's stupid

“I chose to be with you now, didn’t I?” Mr. Stupid told me when we were standing at the bar in the club we had just entered. Slightly appeased, I smiled at him.

But the events of the night came flooding back and my smile faded. What started as an ordinary Friday night, having a couple of drinks with a bunch of friends turned into something I hadn’t quite anticipated happening, at least not so soon.

I met the girl Mr Stupid was dating.

At first it was a bunch of us seated together having drinks, including a close friend from work, her boyfriend, my ex-boss, his friend. And Mr Stupid. Soon everyone left and it was just me and Mr Stupid. I was sipping my mojito when he ordered another round of his whisky with water and we were talking about something I cannot remember, when suddenly out of nowhere this girl comes up to us and plops herself onto Mr Stupid’s chair practically falling on to his lap and gives him a huge hug. Ignoring me for the first few minutes, she talks loudly and fast with him. I’m a little taken aback, so I sit back and watch the whole scene in front of my eyes. She was pretty, I’ll give her that.With long curly but a little unkempt hair and minimal make up (was this his type?). But she was wearing a pants with a ridiculous length, hovering somewhere between her mid-calf and her ankle. I was glad I was wearing a dress. Then I caught myself. What the hell was I doing?

And boy, could she talk a lot. I saw Mr Stupid shift in his chair, was it discomfort? Still talking to him, she turns to me and then says, “Oh sorry. Hi! I’m Miss Gab-A-Lot” and extends her hand to me. I shake her hand and give a smile I’m not feeling and say, “Hi. LittleMissAngry”. She smiles back, turns and continues talking to him. She seems a little too excited and the glass she’s holding follow her hand movements precariously, till it slips out of her fingers, spills half its contents onto his trousers, my dress, pantyhose and shoes (I was sitting pretty close to him and she had somehow managed to plop herself between us) before it went crashing to the floor. She gets all flustered, crouched to the floor trying to clean it up when I realize she’s drunk.

Oh (!)

Her friend comes to get her, while apologizing to Mr. Stupid and me. I dismiss it with a smile and she’s gone for the moment. I turn to Mr Stupid and ask him “Did you know she was here?”.

He says “Yes”.

Before I could continue, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it is her again. She asks me.. “So, you’re MissAngry?” I say yes. She asks the same question again to which I say yes again. Then she goes “The MissAngry?”

I’m not sure how to respond, so I smile and nod. The she says “Ah. I’ve checked you out on Facebook!” and she turns and walks away.

I turn to Mr Stupid and give him an incredulous look. “Seriously?” I say.

“She’s a little drunk” he says almost apologetically.

“You think?” I said. “And you knew she was here! When were you planning to tell me?”

“I don’t know. I did not anticipate that happening” he said. He looks caught between disbelief and amazement.

“Well, it did. And my shoes are wet and sticky. I cannot believe this. Did you plan this? Having two women in one night? Was that the plan?” I say harshly my anger building up. “She bloody ruined my shoes!”

“I’m sorry. Obviously, I didn’t plan this. And I obviously can’t handle two women in one night…” he said trying to make a joke out of the whole thing. I give him a blank stare.

“I want to leave” I said.

We left the spot, (and to my amazement) he still went over to say goodbye to the drunk lady friend of his…but not before asking me “Do you mind if I go over and say bye to her?”

Idiot.

We left the spot, and went to another club in the same building. He got me a glass vodka because I told him I needed another drink to erase whatever had just transpired. And then it hit me, what if he wanted to be with her??

Feeling sick to the stomach, I asked him “Hey, do you want to get back downstairs? I mean if you want to go back there, its fine. I’ll leave.”

To which he said, looking me right in the eye “I chose to be with you now, didn’t I?”

And I stood there, relishing the moment, thinking that at least for now, I had him all to myself.

The dating game

One of my closest friend Miss X called me up the other day, depressed. Her mum and aunt are trying to set her up with a guy, basically get her to go on blind date with him. Her aunt mailed her a picture of him. He's 37 which is not a bad age for a guy but when I asked Miss X what she thought of how he looked.

"You know how some guys who are about that age..say like Mr. Stupid (who btw is 36 this year) but don't look it? Well, he's not one of them. He actually looks 37, " she said.

"But how is a 37 year-old supposed to look like?" I asked.

"I don't know! But we go after men who look like guys not men who look like MEN," she said. "And this one looks scarily like a MAN! He's got glasses, wearing one of those silky shirts and looks serious. Basically he looks like a 37 year-old man not a 37 year-old guy."

"But that's not all" she continued "The date on the photo was 2004, which means he looked like this when he was freaking 31!"

I had to laugh but I didn't know what to say to that. Thinking about it now however, I'd day how do you trust someone who shares a picture of himself (and I'm sure to their best interest they would want to share the best picture they've got) which is 6 years old? So what, he hasn't taken a decent picture of himself since? That's a huge flapping red flag if you ask me.

But anyway, I digress. The point I'm trying to make is... 3 maybe even 2 years ago, Miss X and me, we would not have been so obliging to our mums setting us up this way. In fact, we would have been downright hostile. But here we were, a bunch of 30 year olds, actually succumbing to the pressures of society or rather pressures of family, specifically, our terrified mums.

Not to mention certain aunts who, despite their best intentions, make us feel like total crap when they tell us how small the pool is for girls over the age of 30.

But is it just about the age? Is there really a stigma attached to someone like me, who's touched the big 30 with no man in sight? Or are our mums and aunts over-dramatising their concern? And when they convey their concerns, it seems to me, everything is so black and white. You meet a guy. You like him. He likes you. You get married. Happily ever after.

But most of the time, I'm stuck in grey. For example...

Scenario 1
I meet guy. I like guy. Guy seems to like me but guy is commitment phobic and runs the 100m dash (in the opposite direction) when I tell him I like him.

Scenario 2
I meet guy. I like guy. Guy likes me. We kiss and make-out a couple of times. Find out guy also likes 5 other girls.

Scenario 3
I meet guy. I like guy. Guy seems to like me. We go on a date. Then guy never calls.

Scenario 4
I meet guy. I don't like guy. But guy likes me. Guy calls me everyday. And when I don't answer guy texts incessantly till I call guy a psycho and ask him to bugger off.

And so on and so on.

Okay, I'm going way off tangent here. What I'm trying to say, I think, is, "Mum, I know I've turned 30 way faster than you wanted me to. And as much as you want me married and start making babies.. it does look rather bleak right now, and you may have to wait a while before it even remotely starts looking possible.."

Right. If only I could gather the nerve to tell my mum that to her face.

Love always wins

"Have I told you about the tension of opposites" he says.

"Tension of opposites?"

"Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn't. You take certain things for granted, even when you know you should never take anything for granted."

"A tension of opposites..like a pull on a rubber band. And most of us live somewhere in the middle."

"Sounds like a wrestling match" I say

"A wrestling match" He laughs "Yes, you could describe life that way"

"So which side wins?" I ask

He smiles at me. The crinkled eyes, the crooked teeth.

"Love wins. Love always wins."


-Tuesdays with Morrie
Mitch Albom

Fools in love

I was talking to my friend last night. She’s with a guy who appears not ready to be in a committed relationship. His excuse is that he is focusing all of his time and energy to his work. Relationships require too much effort and he just cannot afford it right now. If that is not an indication of a guy who’s not ready to be with you, I’m not sure what is. But my friend, who despite wanting more from him, is meeting him for drinks this week. She is aware of all the facts, but she just likes him too much to refuse.

Are we all fools when it comes to love?

I’m trying to maintain a platonic relationship with a guy I thought I loved a while ago. But if all I want is to be just friends why does the idea of him being with someone else make me feel that someone has punched me in the stomach? And why is it that whenever Lady Gaga sings her bad lyrics ‘I don’t wanna be friends…want your bad romance’ I find myself bopping my head, nodding and agreeing and thinking of only one person in particular.

Sometimes I wonder, is love really so complicated or am I just making it so. Do I only want what I cannot have? Am I only after the chase? Why is it that almost always the anticipation of my time together with someone feels better than the reality of it? And then why does it again seem better on hindsight? Is it nostalgia - making it more romantic than it really was? Every time we put pen to paper, we are writing on hindsight, riding on something that has already happened, something in the past. And when we write it, do we embellish, making what was only mediocre seem more special than it truly was?

Love should be experienced and not just felt, I read that somewhere. But in most of my past relationships I feel I’ve only felt it, either anticipating something that is going to happen and then thinking about it fondly on hindsight. Was it because the experience in itself was so fleeting? In all honestly I can only think of one time when I truly felt I was experiencing love. My then boyfriend was sitting at the computer trying to get some work done and I was sitting on the couch next to him trying to read. I looked up to find him frowning, deep in concentration. Wanting some attention myself, I went up to him and sat on his lap facing him. I remember him smiling then gently pushing my head to rest on his chest where I could hear his heartbeat. I closed my eyes and allowed him to continue working. The love I felt for him at that point was so overpowering that I made a mental note to never forget it. And I never did.

Is it sad that I can only recall one such incredible moment of love? I’m sure I have experienced others, it’s just that I can’t recall them. Fleeting moments passed by, never to be relived or felt again the same way.

And we keep putting ourselves out there, going on dates, meeting new people trying to make a connection, trying to recapture the feeling of being in love with someone who could possibly make us feel those moments...again.

And therein lies one of my biggest fears - what if I don't?

These moments are so rare, so few and so fleeting – it just does not seem enough. I feel I’m missing out on something bigger. There must be more to love than these rare, few, fleeting moments. Otherwise, I’m thinking.. love is overrated.

I'm being set-up

My mum is setting me up on a date.

I cannot believe I've reached a point in my life where my mum thinks she needs to interfere with her daughters dating life for fear of having her daughter become a middle aged woman without a man in tow. She's obviously fearing the fact that having touched the big 30, I'm still without a husband prospect in sight. 30 is ancient in her books to be without a man and to top that she's gone beyond hinting that she'd like to be a grandmother.... soon.

I love my mum. But I am glad I live a whole 2 hour distance away from her, thus limiting our face to face confrontations about my love life. She manages to get her messages across over the phone though. Its maddening when I've had a perfect Saturday all to myself, lazing in bed with the nicest book and even nicer music in the background, only to have the magic broken with a call from my mum exclaiming "What? You've been in bed the whole day?" like its the worst sin in the world before adding "How are you expecting to meet men if you lie in bed all day like this?".

Anyway, I got a call from her yesterday telling me that she got a call from an aunt of mine about a 'nice' and 'handsome' boy who is a son of a friend of hers who just started working around my area. He's apparently looking to meet new 'friends' and my mum and my aunt have decided that I should do lunch or dinner with him. I retorted saying if he was so 'nice' and 'handsome' why did he need help making 'friends'. My mum told me to not be rude.

Firstly, I don't trust this particular aunt's judgement in men. Secondly and more importantly, why would a grown up man need help from his mum to set him up? Is he so lazy that he couldn't be bothered to make his own efforts to finding a date and would rather rely on his mum to get him one? That or he is really ugly.

I'm not in the least bit intrigued. But you try saying no to my mum. Suffice to say, I've agreed to meet him... but only for coffee next week. I'm not going to suffer through a meal on a date set up by conspiring aunts and mums. My mum agreed reluctantly saying dinner would be much nicer though. But I stood my ground - its coffee or nothing at all- and the tiny win did placate me a little bit. Anyway, I'm thinking, if anything, this might give me some material to blog about.

Mr. Stupid

I started this blog as an angry retaliation towards Mr. Stupid. Along the way it has become something else, but I began writing the blog because I had all this anger towards this one person and no real way of channeling it.

Anyway, it started because I thought Mr. Stupid had wronged me in some way. Led me on and then blew me off. We were so close emotionally and physically, but when it finally came down to making a decision about us, I felt he made the wrong one. I was so mad.

The thing is, he was no 'great' love of mine. We were never in a 'real' relationship. We never called each other cute names. But we did spend enourmous amounts of time with each other. We talked to each other every day. Sometimes for hours. Most important, we laughed together. He was my friend.. and so much more. A friend with benefits of sorts. I thought we were so in tune with each other, we should definitely take this to the next level. He thought not. I couldn't understand why and behaved like a child who did not get that candy she wanted. I threw tantrums. I got petulant. And when all that failed I used guilt. But it was like hitting myself against the wall, because my outbursts never got me the responses I wanted. On hindsight, of course, I realise I took the worst approach possible.

And because I had done all I could to anger him in real life and because on some level I realised what I was doing wasn't just hurting him, but me too, I took my angry venting online. Hence, this blog. Along the way, the anger dissipated, of course, and I moved on. And we're civil now, at least most of the time minus a couple of slip ups. I still care about him, not in the crazy way before, thank god and I'm pretty sure he genuinely cares about me too.

The only problem is as much as I still want him in my life, I am afraid of history repeating itself. The danger is I feel so comfortable with him and we know each other so well, that we sort of fall into a false pattern of ease, using each other to fill up the gap of not having a significant other in our lives. And then slowly and sneakily, without really any conscious decision on my part, I end up wanting more. And that's square one for you.

Its dangerous. And its stupid. Because, by doing this, we're not really allowing each other to grow or move on in the real sense of the word. So as much as I'm enjoying his tentative re-entrance into my life under the guise of a platonic friend, I'm not sure how long that's going to last until the truth about how I really feel about our situation comes to the surface.

Looks like I'll have to wait and see.