About Nude Not Naked

Here is the absolute truth. My life is not rosy. That should not surprise you. I have many enemies in real life and my heart feels insecure. Maybe I have seen too many Mark-s with my eyes and I have heard too many lies and lines. There are girls who push me physically and some push my emotional buttons. There are men who will try their luck and then try again, just in case.

I am a lonely soul. Alex is not here with me due to work commitment in the UK while mine is here in Malaysia. I have changed my mobile number to an unknown when I returned last year in September. I gave myself a second chance to reconsider what is important in my life, to bear witness to a world of honour and deceit and to choose what is right and true for me. With the veil of false splendour and insincere friendships lifted from me, I am left with hardly any number in my phonebook. I feel like I have been reborn, emotionally naked like the day I was born.

People gossip about me in real life. My closest friends such as E asked me not to listen to these lies and not to be bothered. But how can I not be bothered? They affect me deeply because they defile my soul. People gossip and feel good about themselves at the expense of a very tired spirit. Does it make your life better by making mine your daily entertainment? Does it give you a reason to go to office and make sitting in your tiny 3 by 4 cubicle more bearable?

So I wear outlandish clothes. I wore Bohemian five years ago when Sienna and Jude were not an item yet and done some outrageous, like wearing real short skirts when the latest was the maxi and doing a flip fashion statement with odd colour combinations. Yes, I wear that you call the “Chinese bra” (a hanky-like blouse that ties at the back) and I go pub hopping with friends without wearing a bra or nipple stickers. Four years have passed, do you still need to harp on it?

I have never said that you look stupid wearing a tube under a low cut blouse or that you should never wear something that you do not feel comfortable or have the confidence to carry, now have I? Perhaps if you have travelled as much as I have, you would see that the world is much more than street wear and hip hop attire or whatever the fashion magazine dictates as being the latest.

Some of you say that I like to dress sexy. Let me be the first to dispel the notion that I dress sexy for men. I do not. I dress for me. Today I am young and years ago, I was even younger. In my ranting teenage years, I have adamantly told my church elders, “I will not do a skirt exchange with the Queen of England”. I was stubborn then and I still am that stubborn spirit now. I never dress for men, whose attention are a by-product of me dressing to please my fleeting youth and I.

Unlike some of you, I am not in a hurry to mature and be responsible. I was once extremely responsible and you know what? I felt miserable. Now I act my age, do things my age and I feel so alive. I feel alive and each morning I wake up with a smile, do you hear me? Do you feel alive in your soul too or do you haul yourself to work everyday because you have to pay for your car or your house? I go to work because I love what I do.

I will not apologize for some of the things that I have done. Yes, they were most irresponsible and unbecoming of me. I learnt from my mistakes and will do nothing to change my past, no matter how painful some memories were. I would not have appreciated the simple things in life otherwise. For one, I will not be able to write like I do now, if not for all those things that happened.

My heart soars at the majesty of life each time I look out the plane’s window at the shiny Euphrates River. A packet of bendable straws in Tesco is capable of bringing a smile to my face as I remember how much I coveted those straws when I was a child, only to find out that a huge pack cost no more than RM2.00. Childhood happiness consists of simple things. Tell me if you can even remember how to smile sincerely?

“Oh Otto’s my friend. I know Otto very well!” some of you have quipped in the past. Then you tell a pack of lies, with words so smooth like the serpent on the day it met Eve. Do friends really stab each other on their backs? If they do, then I do not want to be your friend. Heck, I changed my mobile and “forgot” to inform you, remember? If I am really bad, then why are you seeking connection with me? May I suggest that you avoid me like a plague, the way I am avoiding you? If you are my friend, you will know all the things you need to know about me. You will not need to milk information from my close friends.

Most of my real friends are not even here in Malaysia. You feel offended when I say that. You call me a snob just because I did not include you into my circle of friends. Can you actually blame me for protecting myself from the likes of you who make my life your favourite reality TV? Do you think I do not want friends who share similar backgrounds and hair colour? Or to speak in the occasional mixed languages of English-Malay or English-Cantonese? I would very much liked that but you made it impossible the day you spoke ill of me.

As for my choice of a partner, it is seriously none of your business. Whether I like white or whether I like yellow. Even if I choose a potato, it is still not your concern. Do not tell me not be unequally yolk with a non-believer because Alex has shown me more love than all you church snobs combined. I do not see a point in adhering to advices dished out by men covering themselves in God’s cloak, cheating on their wives and telling me that I should find a Christian brother. How can I listen to your words when your husband beat you up at home and you are too ashamed to mention his abuse in church, lying to yourself that God can change him?

I think my choice for a life partner is fine.

And to set the record straight - No, I am not having a relationship with every single man I had lunch or dinner with. Why are you so interested in my social calendar? Is yours so empty that you need to prise into mine? I make a good listener and often in a group of more than two people, I would be the silent one, opting to listen to what everyone else has to say. Most friends (men and women) realised that in order to hear my voice, they will have to speak to me personally, hence hanging around cafes and restaurants, sometimes just the person and I.

So no, I am not dating them. I am not fucking them. I am not interested in them nor do I intend to pursue a relationship with them. Please do not think that I am like you because I am not you.

If I am ignoring you, preferring my female friends’ company, it does not mean that I am a lesbian. It means I do not like you. Is it that difficult to understand that I do not like men who do not respect a woman, thinking that her company can be bought with gifts or meals? You can show your flashy car to some other girl who will appreciate it and worship you as god. And for fuck sake, do not for a minute think that your damn plastic card impresses me. I have one too.

People who smile in my face but stab my heart when I look away, tell me how can I love you? You think you know me well but you don’t know me. I was once naïve, thinking if I were nice enough to you, maybe you would learn to appreciate me. How wrong I was! When I found out that you were up to your old tricks, I was too embarrassed to tell you about it, opting to just go away and self medicate the hurt I felt inside. So stop asking me stupid questions like when will I have lunch with you, when I have given you one year’s worth of ambiguous answers. One would think that you would be smart enough to take the hint but apparently subtle courtesy wins me nothing here, so let me spell it out clearly for you to understand.

You do not know me, so do not say that you do. You are not my friend, so fuck off and stop pretending to be one.

Wait a minute. I cannot change others but only myself. So excuse me while I fuck off.



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Related Links

• You Think You Know Me Well But You Don't Know Me - Part One


• You Think You Know Me Well But You Don't Know Me - Part Two


• You Think You Know Me Well But You Don't Know Me - Part Three