About Nude Not Naked

I was shocked. I was so shocked that I hung up. I only redialled the number when I have composed myself.

“Were you frightened?” I asked him. I tried to sound cheerful, as if I had teased him. Certainly that would have taken some tension away from the fact that I was caught by surprise at his reply a few seconds earlier.

“No, I wasn’t.”

Did I feel a little tinge of disappointment? I sincerely do not know. I did not have time to react to the whole incident and I did not know quite how to put everything into perspective.

It has been a week exactly since I arrived home. And it was only late yesterday that I had the opportunity to speak to MiniBoyFriend R. I had expected a greater welcome from him. It simply meant that I overestimated his enthusiasm. Then again I could see it coming...


Strike One
I was avoiding him since we had the conversation one day sometime ago. Well, not avoiding him in person but rather, evading his questions. I loved talking to R simply because he was a good companion. He was sincere, honest and trustworthy. I loved his art and maybe I loved him more than he loved me. Or himself, come to think of it. I loved him so much as my MiniBoyFriend that I was willing to close my eyes to the obvious cracks. You see, I have a habit of hiding away from truths that are hurtful. In its place, I would create a world that is beautiful and peaceful. We spent many weekends together before I left for London. We could just talk and talk for hours and everything felt fine. We even joked that we saved loads of money being each other's therapist.

Till one day we were talking on Yahoo Messanger and he said the one line. That one special line shifted the dynamics within our relationship and perhaps doomed it. In one second, our relationship was demoted to a lower rank. It began with MiniBoyFriend R saying, “Why does it always have to be about you?”

I was taken aback. It was never about me. It was about “US”. We were friends and I would gladly bear his burdens as much as he has borne mine. That is my understanding of what a friendship is – a two way street. I will be there for you when you need me and you will be there for me too.

It was never about me. It could have been about him. Or anything under the stars. If he had shared more of himself, it could have been about him. Or us. Or anything. I don’t really care. I would gladly listen to his stories and be there for him, if he had shared more. And if he did not share any about himself and I did not share any of myself, then what is left in the friendship?

The answer, if you are looking for one is, NOTHING. We are left with nothing. Since the day R said, “Why does it always have to be about you?” I did not tell him anymore of my secrets. I was no longer nude. Maybe out of frustration or maybe out of anger – the motivation is unknown but what was clear was that I no longer wanted to share anything about me anymore. If he wants to salvage this friendship, then he has to be the one to share about himself.

He made the remark and now he has his request granted. This friendship is no longer about me. It can be about him or about us, but I am no longer putting any effort to talk nor communicate with him. Remember when I say that I am thinning my phonebook? Well this was one more person heading into the bin in no time.


Strike Two
Under normal circumstances, we would have gone out for tea or breakfast the very next day after arriving home. There was a time R was the first person I met when arriving in KLIA. I remember once we drove straight to Kim Gary in Sunway Pyramid for some yummy dinner. However in the past seven days, R has disappeared into nowhere, something that is rather unusual. I tried to call him once. Then I tried again. He did not pick up the phone on both occasions. Neither did he return my call..

My experience with men tells me that when a man does not pick up my phone after a few rings, he is usually engaged in an urgent matter. By and large, he would return my call when he is free. And when a man does not return my call at all, it only spelt S-E-X, especially in the case of MiniBoyFriends.

I accept this as part and parcel of having a MBF. A girl has to give up her MBF the moment he has a relationship (be it emotional or sexual) with another girl. It comes with the territory. After all, I am not having sex with him and I do not expect him to remain a celibate. I think I am considerate in this sense – I cannot and do not request/demand for any attention from MBFs because I am not giving any sex.

In the past two months since our initial “Why does it always have to be about you?” conversation, I have not told R much. I would reply my traditional “I’m busy” or “I’m happy” whenever he asked how I was. He knew there was something going on because that was not my typical answer. My old self would have told him everything that was going on in my life – what made me happy, what made me sad, what I was thinking, including all the stupid little things that I thought only to myself. These days the standard answer “I’m happy” would suffice. I brush his questions aside when he asks why I am withholding things from him.

He should have known better.

Last night I opened up a little and told him what I did on Tuesday night. I had a girls night out with PY and E. I then hopped on to Lola’s to visit D. I related to R that D and I chatted for an hour or so. I mentioned that I was glad that D and I were getting along again, after the New Year’s incident. For whatever sick reason, I actually enjoy the friendship I share with D.

“How can you trust D to fetch you home?” R asked.

R never liked D. R did not like the fact that I had been friends with D. He always questioned D's motives whenever I talked about him. According to R, D was someone who talked a lot but would not carry through with actions. All the promises D made were empty, as far as R was concerned. And if ever D did something good, R said that D was trying to show off. Or trying to get into my pants. Or both.

“How sure D would fetch you home?” R repeated.

“If D did not, then I call you lor.” I replied. "Or I'd call BestGuyFriend to fetch."

“Eh...” R began. “I cannot lar. You know why, whaaaaaaat…”

It was then that I realised that I had shared another one way street friendship with yet another friend.

“You won’t come and fetch me?” I asked. I had to reconfirm what I had heard earlier. It would be shameful to lose this friendship over a miscommunication.

“You understand my situation, right?”

Sure, I understand. You are shagging her, so you can’t come out to fetch me home, I thought to myself. What the fuck did I even think of trusting R to fetch me? At least D has proven himself and he got me home in one piece. I cannot say that much for R.

At this juncture I shall share the history of how R and I met. Our first meeting was unconventional, almost a unique as my first meeting with AB. I fetched R home the very first night I met him 3 years ago. He was too drunk to walk, what more drive. Do you have friends who would sneak out of the party and walk home? Well I have one and he happens to be R. Through the years he has always called me as he walked home and I have always got out of bed to fetch him home. Thankfully this happens only once in a blue moon.

Last night was the first time I have hung up on a friend. I was shocked beyond words and it took me some seconds before dialling again. I appeared cheerful on the phone. The last time I checked, I do not think my heart bled. It only reconfirmed my notion that it is time for me to move on with Alex.


There is no strike three
To save myself from any unwanted emotional baggage, I have decided against a strike three. Just when I thought I could trust my MiniBoyFriend R, I got a huge slap from reality. So damn typical.

When I resumed our conversation, he mentioned that he was worried about his new relationship with her. He told me that he was happy. He mentioned that he did not know how the relationship would grow when she returns to London in a month. He sounded nervous and so I tried to reassure him, "It is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all."

"You will be there for me, right?" R asked. I remember him asking me that a few times because I was reassuring him that he would be fine. I said that we are friends and that I will be there for him when she returns to London.

"I hate airports," he said, then he chuckled nervously. I could hear his anxiety despite him being physically far away. I was happy for him because he deserves someone to love and yet I was angry with him because he made me realise that in this world, I can count only on my hands, that of my family’s and Alex’s.

Everything else, no matter how beautiful, is a mirage.

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