I never do

"I don't get you... with her" I say shaking my head. "I really don't"

"I know you don't. You're not the first person to say that."

There is silence. I look down at the table. The bar is crowded, there is music but it's muffled because it's coming from inside the bar and we're seated on the outside. So all we hear is mixed conversations from the other tall tables around us. He gets a faraway look in his eyes, absently picks his mug of beer and gulps down a fair bit. The yellow liquid swirls around in the mug as he lays it down again.

"The thing is I can imagine my life without a lot of people in it. But I can't imagine my life without her."

He looks at me then. A quick glance probably to see how I would react to this revelation.

"That's probably the most profound thing you've ever said to me about your relationship with her. Why didn't you ever tell me this before?"

"I don't know. I think I just realised it myself" he says.

I just sip my beer and don't reply.

"But honestly, most of the time it feels like we're brother and sister " he adds.

I shake my head again. "Yes, that I've heard before"

"Sometimes though..."

He pauses. Takes another swig out of his mug.

"Sometimes what?" I ask.

"Sometimes I just want to grab her, push her against the wall and take her right there" he says looking at me again.

"But then..." he continues "I never do".

A stranger

photo credit

This time last year I went around wearing a rubberband around my wrist - to prevent my thoughts drifting back to Mr Stupid. Each time it did I'd flick myself, basically training my mind not to dwell on the past - any kind of memory, bad or good that included him, I wanted to banish from my head. I'd have scoffed at this technique before, but I had a serious problem when it came to that guy. And I was open to trying anything that might have saved me any more emotional heartache and precious time preoccupied with a past that did not mean anything to anyone anymore. It worked. More or less.

At the time, an unnerving thought crossed my mind time and again - how on earth did I let myself get so emotionally vested on someone who just wasn't on the same page as me. But I realised I was done with all the 'whys' and 'hows' and 'why nots'. What I wanted was to just move past it. Put it behind me as just a bad chapter rather than a colossal tragedy that ruined my life. Take responsibility for my part in the equation and somehow forgive him his weakness and wrong-doings.

Afterall, I was one who put my heart out to a guy who was indecisive from the start. The quintessential 'hot and cold' guy. He would kiss me one moment and pretend it never happened. Hold my hand after a couple of drinks and then fake an amnesia that he did. He would hug me to sleep if I wanted him to, wake up in the middle of the night to kiss my forehead making me feel precious and loved but the next day be remote and cold. He'd rest his head close to my heart, talking to me and holding me like he never wanted to let go. But the thing is... he always did.

He was my friend one moment, a lover the next and then a distant stranger.

And my mistake was letting him get away with it. I let him treat me like a friend and a lover at the same time although it was hurting me. I looked for instantaneous gratification with him, always getting carried away in the moment, rather than holding back and holding out for more - for him to actually step up, be a man and take responsibility for his words and actions. I let him back in my life again and again, whenever he came looking for me - whether this was a masochistic tendency, plain naiveté or an impalpable optimism which made me truly believe each time I let him back in again things would be different - I don't know. Probably all of the above.

I needed to forgive myself for falling in love with a weak man. A man who held so much of promise but never lived up to it. I knew he wasn't evil or bad or intentionally set out to hurt me. And he probably was looking for a friend in me. But his penis got in the way. And I needed to forgive him and his penis for that.

"You are everything I look for in someone" he once told me.

But when I asked "So, why not me?"

His reply was "I don't know".

Maybe he really didn't. Maybe he didn't want to hurt my feelings anymore than he already had. Maybe I didn't fit his convolutedly conditioned mind's ideal of a wife. So all the chemistry in the world and being his best friend didn't help. In his mind I just wasn't a 'fit'. And so, I needed to forgive his head for that. 

At the time I wanted to tell him this: "I feel you're making a mistake. I feel you're bound by some ideal in your head and you are not following your heart. I feel you're settling for mediocrity when you could have had more. I feel if you gave us half a chance, we could have had the time of our lives. But you've made your choice. And now that I think about it, I'm not entirely certain whose loss it is really."

I never did come around to telling him that. Instead I cut all contact with him and I moved on. Just like that, life happened and he wasn't in it anymore.

We bumped into each other in a bar a few months ago and he told me rather nervously that he was getting married. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shell-shocked. I never thought he was capable of such commitment but apparently I was wrong. I stood there, staring at this guy I once knew so well. He looked and felt the same, his musky scent, his wiry hair, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes that accompanied his quick laugh. But he was a stranger. Everything was different.

There was a time when I thought a news like that would break me into a million unfixable pieces. I thought hearing it, I'd have a million questions to ask. But I didn't. Instead I hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and wished him well.

Life goes on.

You don't know a good thing till it's gone

I'm feeling the itch to write again, despite thinking that I wouldn't anymore. Unfortunately, my first post in a long while, is a very, very sombre one.

But then again, it has been a sobering last couple of months. So much has happened. Yet so little has truly changed.

I lost someone very dear to me towards the end of last year. He was my age. We were close once. But we had a fight a few years ago and stopped speaking to each other. It was a silly fight over a parking space and some other petty shit I don't completely remember. We never made up. My pride refused to let me make the first move. He too, had pride the size of Africa. Just two weeks before the tragic incident, he passed a very important exam which he had been working really hard for the last couple of years. The family threw a celebration. At the party, I had this urge to just go up to him, extend my hand and wish him 'congratulations'.

But I didn't. I shoved the impulse away. My pride won. Again.

The younger me used to run to him with boy trouble. He never let me wallow in self-pity. I remember, when I was 21 or 22, I broke up with a dude and it seemed like the end of the world. At midnight, I ran to him wanting some comfort. He was already standing outside his place waiting for me. I ran into his arms, he hugged me and just said gruffly 'Forget him'. He then took me out for a drive. We stopped at a friend's house and by 2am I was laughing again.

I took it for granted that we would have all the time in the world to make up.

How was I to know or even remotely anticpate that I would receive an awful call at 3.30am, close to dawn a fateful day in October, informing me that he was gone. I'll never forget that feeling of fear that immediately gripped me and refused to shake off for weeks. I'll never forget the visit to the mortuary with his sister the next morning. Seeing him on that steel trolley, half covered with a black bag, is the stuff of all my nightmares rolled into one tragic, one very real moment.

Of all the clichés in the world, I'm now relating to this one: you don't know a good thing till it's gone.

He was far from perfect. He had a short temper. He had way too much pride. He was a lot like me.

But his life was a hard one since he was a child whilst mine was mostly sheltered. For him to turn out to be all that he was despite everything he'd been through, makes him infinitely stronger, braver and finer than I could ever wish to be. A diamond in the rough. A gem underneath the rough, sometimes coarse exterior. I recognised the gem when I was younger. I lost sight of it in recent years...too caught up with my frivolous wants and demands. I'll probably kick myself for it for the rest of my life.

I miss you my brother. Rest in peace.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The “new” effect

I was watching a tv progamme yesterday that got me thinking about the “new'” effect in relationships. About the excitement and fun that comes with 'newness' which does not last long and fades away in time.

We probably have many names for it, the 6 month itch or the honeymoon period, etc. but I guess it all boils down to the fact that - what starts off as something new, thrilling and exciting will always fade into something…well...old. There is no avoiding it.

When things are still new, we're all out to impress and please. We're on our best behaviours especially the wooing party which most likely would be the man. He’d probably go out of his way to satisfy your whims and fancies. And you’d probably go out of your way making him feel that he’s an amazing guy to be doing all that. But how long does this last?

Back to the tv programme, this couple who started off great, had so much fun in the beginning, ended up fighting and arguing about the littlest things. They were sitting across each other at dinner one night and she asks him.. ‘What happened to us? We used to be so much fun… you used to eat noodles off my back forgodsake! And now….’

And I could relate. When I think back to some of the relationships I’ve had, there is always this turning point when the things you did together just stopped being as fun, the things you said as funny, and the time spent together as exciting. What you might have tolerated before becomes not as tolerable anymore. And the worst is when you see him not doing the same things for you as he did before. When he starts saying no to the things he would not have hesitated to say yes to and when he’d rather be out with his buddies when once he’d have blown them off to be with you.

In all honesty, I’ve never been able to reconcile this. When this happened to me, I remember getting really worked up. Of course being caught up in the relationship and never being able to see it from the outside, my responses have typically been picking up fights, storming off after the fights and then becoming needy with lines such as ‘you don’t care about me anymore…’.

Which leads me to wonder, how do couples move past this? How do they decide, ‘Look, I know the whole “new” deal is over, but I still want to be with you’ and make it work? How do you get past the fact that he might rather be out with other people than with you… or that you can’t find much to talk about anymore when once two hour conversations flew by in a flash…or …when you don’t just want to lie in and laze in each others company anymore? What do you do, when the newness gets old?

The simple life

I wish I were less complicated. One of those easily pleased people whose needs are simple. Undemanding. Light. Unfortunately (for me), I am everything but.

I was driving through a palm oil estate earlier, and I saw some kids run by the side of the road laughing and I felt a twinge of wistfulness. When was the last time I felt that carefree? Then I saw a lady drying her clothes on a wire outside her house. And I wondered what her problems might be. Children. Husband. Dinner. I’m just guessing.

I asked myself if I could live here. Like this. In an estate, surrounded by palm oil trees, the nearest town perhaps a 30km drive, and far away from civilization. My version of civilization that is; in the likes of high rise offices, heavy traffic, oversized shopping malls,each new one larger than the last and clubs that stay open till 5am. My automatic response was no way.

But when I think about it, I wonder why not? Is it because I’d actually miss the shopping malls which I can’t stand going to on the weekends because they get just so offensively crowded? Or would I miss being stuck in the horrendous traffic at any given hour in KL? Perhaps I’d miss out on the rat race - the thrill of working in an office from sunrise to dusk, doing a job that brings so little meaning to anyones life least alone mine, dealing with irksome demands by the bosses and incessant deadlines which if you miss, spells the end of the world. But hey, if I pull out now – whose going to pay for my car or the new service residence I want to buy? And what about the weekend parties… the all night clubbing and drinking till dawn, celebrating the end of a tiresome, seemingly endless week?

I guess, I have been programmed to fit this lifestyle regardless how unhappy it might be making me. I’m stuck with a bunch of financial commitments including a loan that paid for my education which led to my line of work, which got me caught up in the rat race that fed a greedy dream to be successful. And along the way bought some bullshit on how living this life, wearing these shoes, driving this car, carrying this handbag and living in this condo is the definition of success.

What a fucking joke.