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Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Between The Bars

" Drink up, baby
Stay up all night
Things you could do
You won't but you might

The potential you'll be
You'll never see
Promises you'll only make
Drink up with me now
And forget all about
Pressure of days
Do what I say
And I'll make you okay
And drive them away
Images stuck in your head

People you've been before
That you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

Drink up, baby
Look at the stars.
And I'll kiss you again
Between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there
With your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught "

~ Between The Bars, Madeleine Peyroux

The Pink Skirt And The Pornstar
I woke up this morning and wore a black with pink polka dots skirt. It is my new favourite pink skirt. It will be my favourite, a choice piece that I wear day in and day out. And it will be my favourite till I find another pretty pink or purple pink skirt.

The skirt looked pretty. It had to be since it my new favourite pink skirt. What troubled me was that I was able to find another skirt and love it just the same. Or heaven forbids, commit fashion fornication by loving another skirt MORE!

The Aftertaste
The wedding left an aftertaste in my mouth. I met two of my primary school friends. We played hop scotch when we were tying pony tails. These two friends of mine, D and J grew up and got married. To each other.

It never ceases to amaze me how small the world can be and how you will marry someone that you grew up playing tag and five stones with. The last when I saw them, they had a daughter, now aged three years. This time around, J carried a beautiful boy who was only a month and a half. J looked beautiful, with her doe eyes and pinkish lips. D looked older, with a moustache and a Rolex. I bumped into J at the buffet line and we exchanged news.

Seeing both of them happy made me feel happy inside. It also made me wonder do I have my priorities wrong? I love the life I live now and I will never exchange it for anything. Yet at dinner tables and gatherings, my old relatives make me cringe with their relationship ‘encouragement’.

I am not as gorgeous as Dawn. Neither am I as rich as Daphne. But I know what I am. I am nowhere desperate to be married or engaged. I have what many women consider a man’s flaw: the inability to settle down. The exception is that I am a woman. As I mature and grow older, I am now left with very few single comrades in the single camp.

The battle of Smug Marrieds vs Singletons are neigh high!

My Inability
I love the romantic notion of being with a man. I even love having Alex around in the evenings, when we invite friends over and have a curry and DVD night. Yet I am fiercely independent and I hate the thought that I would turn into one of those ‘contented wives’.

You know the sort that your aunties and uncles describe as being the perfect life: A caring husband, a holiday once a year in Europe, a big car with that only uses acronyms, a HUGE house that is tastefully furnished, a maid to take care of the 2 kids (a girl and a boy of course) that you will have and a damn bloody Shitz Zu puppy tailing after your shadow. Did I mention the three designer bags from the latest season, a 1.5 carat diamond ring and probably the whole range of La Mer or SKII, to make sure your husband will always be attracted to you?

I hate the concept of this ‘perfect life for a woman’. I hate it so much, I decided that I should remain single till I can define what quantifies a perfect life FOR ME minus a yelping Shitz Zu.

Compounded by the fact…
“Think more of a house instead
of the latest season”

“Think more of a long holiday
than a big ring”

Think more of a house... I am trying to remind myself... or at least try to convince myself.. no latest season... no nice shoes...

I am so gonna crawl out anything that does not allow me to possess nice shoes. I should know better. I bought three pairs of shoes that I do not need over the weekend.

More meows from me later.



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