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? ;)