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Wednesday, February 28, 2007
The Crazy Things We Do

My friends made special effort to celebrate my birthday this year. First of all, I have my birthday slave. The Bachelor did everything on my birthday, from arranging the picnic box to preparing the sandwiches. BestGuyFriend and Nikki joined us once the picnic box was ready (they are smart people). I really appreciate the great effort by all my friends and especially loved the private chat I had with Nikki about girl stuff. As the topics opened up, I realised that Nikki experienced similar wet dreams like I have been in recent months - sexual dreams that always ended with orgasms, which is the point when we wake up to find ourselves soaking wet in our southern regions.

Okay. I am getting sidetracked again. What I wanted to share in this post was the crazy things we did for the Bachelor's birthday. I was feeling rather stressed over the high standards of celebrating birthdays when they celebrated my 'old' age and I did not know what nifty gift to buy for him. It seemed that everyone started giving the Bachelor his presents before his actual day of birth and I was left with less and less options of what I could get him. The fact that he has EVERYTHING does not help me either.

So on his 39th birthday, which falls on the 3rd day of the year of the pig, I suggested we drive down to Melaka for some cendol. We packed ourselves into his jeep and took a slow drive towards the historic city. We were both pleasantly surprised that the cafe where we stopped to have a quick breakfast, hired a lion dance troupe. I joked that the whole of Melaka was celebrating his birthday in style, with two lions! The Bachelor, being the Mat Salleh that he is, loved every single minute of the lion dance. He was busy snapping photographs while I greedily scoffed my breakfast.

At a whim, we decided to go to Pulau Besar, which was an island 20 minutes from the jetty nearby. It was purported to be a mystical island, where spirits ruled and lived. Apparently those who wanted to visit the island should not consume pork for a week or so, before arriving on the island. I cannot remember if I had pork or not. Chances are I did not because I hate the taste of pork. Neither did the Bachelor since we arrived to the island safely and then back to mainland after four hours of baking under the hot sun, among shady trees and soft drinks.

Had awesome grilled fish on the way back to the city. Walked through China Town for a bit before starting our journey back to KL, where friends were lying in wait to slay the poor Bachelor with vodka and beer. There was the traditional birthday cake, birthday songs and lots of drinking. Nikki was responsible for the birthday hangover the Bachelor had the morning after.

Overall it was a crazy and fantastic day. The Bachelor must have done something good in the last year because everything went smoothly despite the trip being totally unplanned. My birthday celebration was a spectacular event but I think we just about managed to top it during the Bachelor's three day long celebration. Here are just some photos to proof how enthusiastic he was when the lions danced...

The lions preparing to rush into the cafe.

Exploring the two storey cafe like inquisitive little kittens.

I really liked this orange lion.
It was fluttering its eyelids seductively. Damn sexy lion!

The lion hanging dangerously on the window sill.
I hope they were paid lots of money for these dangerous stunts!

*photo deleted*
Some reader remarked that I looked like XiaXue.

Related Links
  • Bodicea salivated at the photos of a nearly naked BGF.

  • The day when Otto skipped like a bunny.


Monday, February 26, 2007

Amazing. The view was amazing. Standing at the edge of the balcony, my eyes travelled as far as they possibly could and all my eyes saw was an endless stream of buildings, tall ones and short ones, each poking against the other and a rustic yellow sun parading its glorious self in the background. Occasionally I wiped the tiny strands of hair that danced gently with the breeze. I heard my own peals of laughter among the potted plants and the day bed when my skirt decided to pull a Marilyn Monroe stunt.

Flashes of light travelled along dark lines. There were big cars and noisy buses, all moving along the labyrinth of streets many floors below. They looked so tiny from where I stood, like little ants that were trailing towards a sweet picnic. Every now and then, birds soared towards the heavens. The feeling was majestic. These beautiful creatures were witnesses to how big this world is and what an inconsequential role I played in it. The feathery ones reminded me of dreams that I have never dreamt when I slept and visions that I have never seen while I am awake.

I heard the kettle whistling. The distinct smell of coffee filled the living room as I closed the glass door behind me. How magnificent, I thought to myself as I stood by the huge glass windows. My fingers moved along the cool windowsill, darting the little wooden ornaments and the baby pot of plant when they reached the end. My feet felt cold and tingling, responding to the cool of the beautiful marble floor.

I sat at the edge of the white sofa and I swung my legs. He came out walking with two mugs of freshly brewed coffee. He lowered his eyes and a little smile slowly found its place on his face. “Are you always this restless?” he asked as he handed me my mug. His eyes were so magical, pure blue and yet if I really looked into them, I realised that they were grey too. And if I really, really looked into them, his pupils dilated whenever he opened his eyes after closing them for a while. Like magic.

“We are going to Tioman. Will you come along?” The context of “we” here referred to Nikki, BGF and him. They were all heading to Tioman in March to participate in some eco diving, beach cleaning sort of thing. Basically beach cleaning and watching the coral reefs are the by-product of shameless non-stop drinking over a weekend. Doing something for Mother Nature makes everyone feels better, especially on a hangover.

We hopped into the car and drove up and down highways to the café. It served the most delicious focacia that I had tasted in a long time. Last weekend, I had focacia with egg and cheese. Egg and cheese is a traditional combination, a sure winner. You can never go wrong with it. At this particular Sunday sitting, I asked the waiter for a recommendation and he said pita with tuna. Three tables from us, a German couple sat, babbling on while Madeline Peyroux sang softly in the background.

I always loved beautiful things. That is my weakness. I am every shop decorator’s dream. I am the gullible one. I have entered shops because of the music they played and I have equally avoided boutiques because they were too brightly lit. For me, presentation accounts for nearly everything in the first three seconds of entering a boutique or a café. And here in this café, I sat among old things, fresh coffee, glasses of cucumber juice, the most fantastic sandwiches I could sink my teeth at breakfast time, dark recess for rooms and slow jazzy tunes to wake every atom in my body.

“So what are you having?” he asked.

“Pita and tuna. It was at the waiter’s recommendation.”

“You charmed the young chap too?” He smiled again.

“And how would you know anything, sir?” I asked, then turning to look at the German girl, who sat so prettily with tousled blonde hair, gypsy skirt and flip flops. I always envied the tall, skinny blondes. How they easily hang the clothes on their bodies is enviable. It is pure genetic and never a coincidence that beautiful girls are beautiful.

“Because you are always charming,” he reached out and patted my right hand. “I’ll be worried on the day you do not charm the socks off men and women around you.” He winked.

He lit a cigarette. He pursed his lips and the evil thing dangled at the edge. He had this raw look. It was unusual but when I saw the look, I knew. Here sat a man across me, who had a past. Who rode the big bikes, who chased the skirts. He had two ear piercings on his left ear that perhaps helped him bed so many girls in the 1980s that he can no longer keep track of them. I have noticed these piercings more than three months ago and I secretly called one “Naughty” and the other “Cheeky”. This man was both and more.

The islands on the East Coast are opening in March. I have bought my bikinis for this summer and I am waiting for the season to start. There will be diving trips for the boys and the girls will tan themselves. I imagine settling down for a good book for a month somewhere. I plan to go to some deserted (and perhaps cheap) island for a month, to get away from everything and to write the book, which started this blog. There will be parties and the damn Formula One and then to Europe for skiing and summer a few months later.

“I love you,” he said. I laughed when I heard those words. He looked confused. His eyes darted left and right, searching deep into my eyes. Laughter was not the answer he had expected, I suspect.

“I would be surprised if you don’t,” I replied. “Men always say they love you.”

He looked a little hurt by my remark but he was wise enough not to deny what I have said. He nodded and took my opinions as they were. He knew better than to try change my opinion. I have been stubborn in my ways and smart men were smart enough not to try change mine.

“Men have very low standards,” I said. “They will drop almost anything for the chance of scoring.” I swung my crossed legs on the chair. “Never listen to the words. Words are cheap.” I closed my eyes and all felt still around me. Philosophizing. “Actions,” I paused to stress my point. “Actions are more meaningful than mere words.”

I have never been charmed by words or confessions of love. Too many men have uttered that and too many more failed to match their words with deeds. My father told me in my youth that you know a man by his actions. One act of love is more effective than one thousand words of love and that was how a woman could tell if a man loved her.

I sat in my corner, in my little armchair. He sat in his usual spot, on the big white sofa. We did not speak and yet we spoke a thousand words. I could not hear what he said to me and neither did he hear what I silently said to him. Only smiles and the occasional wink separated one secret conversation and another. Sometimes I caught him looking at me when he smoked in the balcony. He stood by the edge overlooking sky, light, haze and concrete. He tapped his cigarette into the ashtray, inhaled and exhaled little circles that vanished into thin air. He had his funny slippers on.

I caught myself asking what is the price of loyalty. Everything could be bought and everything could be bartered. The remaining question was just the sacrifice and price. Many women traded personal happiness for comfort and security. Some foolishly traded their careers or self-worth for the men they loved. Younger women exchanged their flesh for approval and love. Generations of older women spent their youth denying their love to marry those who could provide comfort and education for their offspring.

To claim that you are priceless and that your love is endless is to lie to yourself. At least that is what I think. Who knows what the future might hold? Who knows if Alex would still love me when I am fat and ugly? Who knows if he would dump me in favour of a younger model? After all, it is a fact that I am four years older than he is. Youth is fleeting and beauty is very momentary. Even the most beautiful women in the world have to submit to age, so who am I to be confident in saying that I will still remain attractive when I turn 35 or when I have a child?

Maybe Alex would grow wise with age. Maybe his career will take him somewhere. Maybe we could afford a house. Maybe we would never afford a house in Kent. The value of houses is appreciating at 3% per month on some months of the year. Wouldn’t it be easier to just be with a man that already has a house than to slog like a mad woman, growing white hair just to find the down payment for a little one bedroom apartment?

The truth is men will leave you for the stupidest and strangest reasons. Being with an older man does not guarantee you that he would not leave you. You hear stories that they often do. Being with a younger man does not necessarily mean that he would leave you for someone who is closer to his age (or younger). He might just hold you until the day you cease to breathe. He just might. Then again he might not.

Financial security, I tell you there is none; real or imagined. One minute he could be richest man on the postcode and within the next, bad investments, bad company or bad habits (whichever gets to him first), could financially ruin the man. I always believed that I should not get too used to fine things in life, in case I will have to lose them some day. You do not miss what you do not know.

I am beginning to respect for women who sacrificed one for another. It does not matter if she let go of a man her heart loved in favour of a man who could give her the securities she needed or if she threw caution to the wind and chose a man whom she loved when she had many suitors who could keep her tight little bottom on satin and silk. When we decide, we expect to walk the miles with the men and that is what is known as loyalty, love and perseverance.

My mother told me that if she had the choice to chose again, she would chose someone who had financial security versus someone that she loved with her heart. She is not the only older woman who believed so. I have spoken to many ladies in their later years and almost all of them said that they would chose someone who could take care of them better than someone whom they loved more.

“At least you will have the luxury of silky tissue paper on days when you have to cry,” my mother said. “Tears will be softer on your skin.”

I wonder if I would say the same when I am older. Will I still feel the same when I was 31? Will love be everything?

MiniBoyFriend R and I had lunch today. He looked deep into my eyes. "Oh don't being such a drama queen. I know you well enough," he said as he sipped his espresso. "You chose Alex. You always do." He patted my head, as if I was a little child with ribbons on my ponytails.

"Am I stupid?" I asked, looking soulfully into his eyes. The table of three men out on lunch break sat next to us. Damn cigarette smell, I thought to myself as they stubbed their ciggies before diving into their healthy salad and chicken sandwiches. "Do you think I am stupid?"

"I don't use the word 'stupid'."

"Ok. Do you think I am dumb?" I asked. I leaned forward, to narrow the distance between us. I hate it when nosy tables are eaves dropping. I hate it more when the noses belong to men.

"You are not dumb," R said. "Although everyone I know would have chosen the security over love but you know that you would not. What you have is called conscience and loyalty. Cherish it. You are richer than the kings. Not many have these qualities anymore."

"I wished that I could be selfish but I can't. I love Alex too much." I whispered across the table.

"Don't take me wrong but you are selfish. You love yourself the most and that's why you love Alex. He loves you the most too."

Is love really everything?


Thursday, February 22, 2007
Valentine's With The Girls

I would like to pretend to write an intelligent post but I have concluded that I am infinitely busy at the moment with some things around me. That doesn't mean that I have not thought about writing stuff for ANNN. I have and the posts should be out next week, when I overdosed on eating and drinking. Till then, here are some photos from the previous two weeks.

The naughty minxes are out to play.

Yes, mum. I am good. No, I have not drank too much.
Just keeping to the limit. Uhhu, I promise to be a good girl.

*three glasses of vodka later...*
What's my name? Say it! I am Sailormoon!

I kinda like this photo...

Me and my big birthday ass.

Nikki and BGF posing for the camera.


Friday, February 16, 2007
The Emotional Review 2007

I know I talk about Alex a lot here in ANNN but in reality, I do not talk about him often. I have always liked my relationships private, just the two of us. Below are two post Valentine's Day emails. The first from Alex and the second, my proper response to his emotional review.

Alex's request for an emotional review
Well, do you think we need emotional status review? We can't judge each other's mood from such distances.

From my point of view I'm feeling a little insecure, you see when you were supposed to be coming over here, I was in control and didn't feel threatened by anything you could do, it would leave me no worse off... thinking back to why I left in the first place.

Now if I am to go back over there then I'm no longer independent in the same way, and have to rely on the trust that's been rebuilt. I suppose that is why you are giving me more time, not hurrying me to come over, but then again, it might be an example of the insecurity I feel -> I suspect you enjoy your current secure but single status...

See, at the moment the atmosphere is sort of humid, like the build up before a thunderstorm, we just need the row to open the floodgates and clear the atmosphere...? maybe? Just like BestGuyFriend and Nikki do every couple of weeks...

Food for thought.

My response to Alex's emotional review
Well Nikki did say that we haven't argued as much because time is precious for the two of us. We realise that there is a limit to how much time we get to spend with each other and as a result, we tend to be our very best and we forgive very easily.

She suspects that when we get together permanently, we will argue just as much as they do at the moment.

I don't like her theory, I am telling you. I am getting a little too old to row and argue. Time is too precious for me to spend days playing the silent treatment. It throws the focus off what I want to do and I know I won't be able to bear the emotional insecurities, the way Nikki has to deal with BestGuyFriend's.

Frankly one of the primary reasons why I chose you over SwedishLove was for the fact that you do not have as many emotional baggage as SwedishLove does. He depended on me for a lot of his emotional needs and it was tiring trying to be perfect for him all the time. He did not have a good relationship with his mother, often being the parent in the relationship whilst his mother wasted her years away.

As a result, he innately believe that if he loves enough and if he finds the perfect woman, they will share a perfect life. And he concentrated and focused too much in the relationship that we shared.... which drained me emotionally because I had to live up to his idea and aspirations for the perfect family life. I became the source where he derived unconditional love and devotion.

You, on the other hand, perhaps due to your parents' devotion and nurturing, aren't as insecure as he was. And you do not see me as the solution to your emotional troubles. In our relationship, I think that I am the one who is needy - the need for security, love, affection and stability. And you have always proved yourself well... and that simple act deserves my loyalty and devotion.

I admire you a lot for what you are able to do and what you have given me. You are generous towards me and you are a great teacher. I have learnt a lot from you - love, patience, devotion, faith, hope and generosity. It is almost strange to derive these attributes from of all persons - A NON CHRISTIAN.

It has, in its very subtle ways, taught me that one has to appreciate a person for WHO HE IS, never what membership he has enrolled himself into....

I am getting sidetracked.... HighSchoolSweetheart asked me once why I chose you instead of many other men. I chose you because you are the very best part of me. I have made mistakes and I swore to myself that I shall spend my life repenting. You do not know how many times I have silently asked you to forgive me.

Each time I am nice to you, just remember - it is my way of showing my love and devotion towards you. Each time I cook, do something extra, send a card, think of you - they are all little acts that I do because I realised that I do love you very much (in my own way). Perhaps I am strange and to a certain extend, maybe I am even a little crazy. I am not perfect but each time I do something, I did it because my heart recognized how much I love you.

There are things that I do for you, I would never do for others. And I most certainly not even do it for my family or for myself. But for you, I would most certainly do almost anything, if it means that you are more happy and comfortable. I hate getting up my ass but if you were sick, I'd make Lemsip for you. I won't do it for myself but I would do it for you.

Sometimes I fear that I would lose you one day. And that one day, when I wake up, you would chose not to love me anymore. And I fear that tremendously. But I have realised that I can't control you and I can't make you love me. I don't even know why you love me or chose to be with me. I only know why I chose you.


His following response was terribly poor. So poor it was that I would not copy and paste it. All Alex said was that I wrote well. That was the last thing I had expected from Alex since he requested for a damn emotional review at midnight while I was sitting in my panties writing new car articles for the magazine! Argh! Men... pffft! My emotional floodgates are now open.

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Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Top Three Rules When Buying Your Man A Fabulous Present

Surrounded by men since the day I was born, I am confident when it comes to buying ingenious gifts for men. Just remember these top three rules the next time you shop for the men in your life, be it your lover, husband, father or brothers. Or even your boss.

When it comes to buying men presents, try searching for a gift that…
  • Has varying movements - spins, turns, flips, flies etc.

  • Has lots and lots of flashing lights and/or makes a lot of noises.

  • Has many buttons and switches that he can explore.

The general rule is the more you are able to fulfil the above criterions, the more happy and satisfied your man will be.

I remember a Christmas when I bought all the men in my household a toy control car each. I do not need to tell you how excited the three boys were, laughing and playing with their toys while sat on the front porch. The toys gave them endless hours of pleasure.

Two years ago Alex received a PS2 complete with more than 30 game titles. Last year Alex received a coupon to purchase a flat screen TV of his choice (or was it LCD, am not sure). He is yet to redeem it though because he is such a greedy little boy.

I bought my father a flying machine sometime ago and once, I got my brothers a toy ninja mouse, which moved to “Kung Fu Fighting”. I bought AB his favourite bike, which he could have weekend project assembling the toy.

And for The Bachelor’s coming 39th birthday, I have decided on purchasing him a luxury control bike/car. His favourite Ducati would be perfect since he raced in the Finnish Amateur Circuit in his 20s; a part time hobby he kept while he chased every available skirt then.

Men are simple creatures sometimes. I do not understand why some women are absolutely possessive of their men. Some women make the mistake of thinking a relationship has to be serious, where play and fun have no place. The biggest mistake you can make as a woman (other than not taking care of your physical self or being the bitch from hell) is to be upset each time he comes home with a nifty gadget or toy. Or saying that he has wasted money AGAIN. Instead, you should take an interest in your man's toy. Ask questions and try exploring the new toy with him whenever your man comes home with a box of boyhood goodies. You will be surprised how warm men will be when you show some interest in simple things that make them happy.

Never force your men to grow up. Every smart woman knows, MEN NEVER GROW UP. They just grow old.

These little things improve relationships tremendously, so be a sweetheart, race yourself to the nearest shopping mall and buy yourself some extra love by purchasing your boy’s wet dream – a gadget that is flashy and noisy, with the most buttons and switches you can afford.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

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Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Happy Thirty First Birthday, Otto!

The Bachelor was early. He arrived at half past 7 on Friday evening to push the Tesco trolley with me. It was the day before my 31st birthday and I was receiving far too many “Happy THIRTY FIRST birthday, Otto!” to be able to drive safely to Tesco or possess the concentration necessary to push a trolley full of grocery on my own.

I was late. He had to sit and wait for half hour while I washed my hair and god, I really needed a hair wash on Friday. 9th February turned out to be the day from hell. Frantic phone calls since 8 a.m. with complaints after complaints from grumpy customers. One in particular phoned me four hours later, apologizing profusely for her temper in the morning.

“Oh, all of us have our PMS days” I replied. I am quite amazed at how diplomatic I can be sometimes.

With the 30 minutes “ME” time complete, I raced through the rest of the beauty regime. Got myself ready by 8:30 p.m. and we were zooming to my local Tesco in The Bachelor’s piece of shit. That is what he calls his Cherokee Jeep that he bought when he arrived on Malaysian shores more than a year ago.

The picnic bill turned out to be a whooping RM170. You must be wondering what we had in the shopping trolley to swipe RM170 for a picnic. We walked through the aisles, negotiating the finest yummies for the picnic. When we concluded that we should stick to the traditional picnic foodstuff, we piled salad, tuna, a whole roast chicken, mayonnaise, the finest French vinaigrette money could buy, bottles of olives and gerkins, two big packets of Lay’s Salt and Vinegar, bread, tortilla wraps, spicy salsa sauce and picnicware.

And oh, plastic bags to throw all the rubbish at the end of the picnic. We might be drunks from the night before we most certainly were civic conscious drunks.

Got up at 7:30 a.m. on birthday to Nikki’s rendition of “Happy THIRTY FIRST birthday”. A little too many words in my opinion but that did not stop her from singing it four more times through the day. And because it was my birthday, I stood around the kitchen while The Bachelor shuffled back and forth between the refrigerator and the pantry, fixing the tuna and chicken roast as fillings. Nikki and BestGuyFriend rolled by at 10 a.m. and handed me my birthday gift - a pink vibrator. If it was not for the fact that I bought them sex toys as birthday gifts last year, I would have sworn they were sending me subtle hints of my non-existent sex life at the moment.

Arrived by the seaside at noon, when Nikki and I were left in charge of finding the desired spot. Decided on a spot about 200metres away from the car park, away from prying eyes. There was only one young Malay couple groping each other ten metres away. Out came the shocking pink duvet cover and all the little neat yummies from the cooler box. Beers all around and Finlandia vodka for me and we were on our way.

The more the sun shone, the less clothes we had on. By 2 p.m. the boys were in their trunks and us girls were walking around with nothing more than barely there skirts. The Malay couple decided to walk away, I am not sure out of disgust or intrique, but the girl was giving Nikki and I the look. Maybe she was jealous that she could not get herself into a bikini in the open.

I had to ice myself because it was freaking hot. Ants and BestGuyFriend were forming a marching line towards the French dressing. It was the healthiest meal we had in a long time. We had lots of salad because of the delicious dressing. “Oh god, this is good. Baby, have some.” BestGuyFriend said between stuffing more salad into his mouth and Nikki’s.

We only left at 4 p.m. and I was quite relieved. My face was all red and my eyes were bloodshot, so Nikki laughed at me, not with me. My white flag was up by the time we got to the apartment, where I slept while the three of them continued to make Carlsberg into a greater profiting company. I slept until 8 p.m. to a nice surprise. The Bachelor, following the advice for finding the perfect gift for a woman, bought me a huge bouquet of roses in the most beautiful shade of red I have seen.

“Happy THIRTY FIRST birthday, Otto,” he said. The roses appeared like magic. Then a box rolled out of his sleeves. He had bought me a beautiful piece of jewellery, after overhearing a conversation I had with PY earlier in the week. Very thoughtful, I thought to myself. He most certainly lives up to his Most Eligible Bachelor title.

Fine dinner and Rock & Roll music at 9 p.m. with the gang. Then off to the pub, where a cake waited patiently. The band sang and the greetings came. Cut the cake and everyone in the pub had a slice. It was so nice having strangers come up to wish me a good year ahead. Got some free booze too. Nikki kept my glasses filled to the brim. Had half a bottle of red wine during dinner and then some Strawberry Margaritas at the pub. My heart was beating wild when I decided to cut the night short. I snuck away quietly...

"Oh no, you don't, Miss 31 Years Old," Nikki said, blocking my escape path. "Your birthday isn't fun until you puke tonight and wake up with a hangover tomorrow!" It was the perilous hour, with no car to boot. I had to make a dash for it. Jumped into a friend's car when I realised he was on his way home. Fell asleep in the car on the way home. It was bliss, by any account.

And that was how I spent my birthday, folks. My birthday was so fun that it is going to be hard to top that in the coming week, when The Bachelor turns birthday boy. Ok. So I will have my revenge and I get to sing “Happy THIRTY NINETH birthday!”

Three days after my birthday and I am still skipping like a bunny because I am happy, happy, HAPPY! The euphoria is still ringing in my ears.

The Bachelor and The Nude.

The two lazy boys who drank a couple of beers
before bringing the cooler box to us.

The married couple.

Look! I bought cheap rubber sandals just for the picnic!

Birthday girl's legs in shocking pink dress.

That's The Bachelor. Email me if you are interested.
I am pimping him out for nice Aldo shoes.

That's BestGuyFriend. I'd pimp him out too
but I don't think Nikki would allow me.

I think it is rude to post a photo of my pink vibrator
so here is one of the 31 roses.

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Monday, February 12, 2007
The 10 Commandments For Buying A Woman The Perfect Gift

I know. I know. It's that time of the year again where your girlfriend (or its upgraded version called WIFE) is scrutinizing your every move, equating whatever you have bought her for Valentine's Day with your devotion towards her for the next 12 months. If you do well, you get special sex on February the 14th and if your gift is not up to her expectations, you'll be sleeping on the sofa again. It is a tough life being a man. I know.

So to help all you fine gentlemen who are lost in the art of giving, here is a little clue...

  • You should not buy an iron or a kettle for her birthday.

  • You should not buy a vacumm cleaner or a new frying pan.

  • George Foreman's grill machine or a bottle of shaving cream have no part in the equation for romance.

  • Do take note of things that she mentioned before and buy something that she desires.

  • She does not desire a new pair of socks or slippers.

  • You should not buy her a set of plates or a weighing machine for any occasions. Unless you are planning to commit suicide and she is your aide.

  • It is not sexy to buy her a box of puzzle, a bar of soap or a hammer.

  • Girls love the simplest things sometimes, when they are well thought.

  • Do think of creative presents. Like a spontaneous drive somewhere or even a balloon.

  • The best gifts are often from the heart.

Good luck! You will need a lot of it.

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Friday, February 09, 2007

I have been trying to figure out why is it that I seem to be the only person to attract the crazies and the obsessed. Men who beg in front of my house at night, claiming that they will die if they do not see me before midnight. Men who cry like babies when I decide that perhaps the friendship we shared was getting out of line.

Crazy old men who walk past Coffee Bean, only to spot the chair next to mine, sit on it and say, “If uncle were younger, I’d take you for my wife” so loud that three tables around would snicker.

“Eh E, tell me honestly. You DO get crazy men too, right? It is just that you don’t want to tell me about them,” I asked E during our private moments.

“Nope,” came the swift short answer.

It took me a very long time to figure this one out. It was only in my mid 20s that I realised that perhaps there was a little secret why I successfully turned men into crazy commitment seeking, “I want to share my life with you” freaks of nature.

So if you are a girl and you can’t seem to find a man to commit himself to you, you might find the following paragraphs rather useful. I shall share three points today and you tell me what you think.

David Beckman And The Stash Of Porn
There are things that friends do and there are just things that friends do not. Common friends talk about the weather. Or how on earth David Beckham is going to spend his USD1 million a week. General friends stick to general topics such as the flash floods happening around and why Tesco Malaysia does not have bargain buys, like they do in the UK. The one thing that normal friends do not do is talk about really personal stuff.

Lovers talk on a different level. They talk about deeper and more personal topics. A pair of love doves will talk about their childhood, what made them happy, what made them sad and what they dream of each night. They walk down memory lanes, talking about their disappointments in life and their hope for a better future. Lovers share their deepest secrets and thoughts.

Such as how she discovered a stash of porn in her parent’s cupboard when she was 13 and she learnt to pleasure herself for the first time. Or how he used to drink sips of wine from his father’s favourite crate of best wines since he was 16 and now all that is left are empty bottles.

If and when you start talking about your personal life and by that, I don’t mean your favourite curry house, you are beginning to fall into a new phase of your friendship. This is often the first flashing light that you have crossed the country called Friendship into its sister country, Relationship. Do not talk about why you like your French knickers if you do not want to develop a relationship with a man. Conversely if you wish to ride on the relationship boat, you can try and open your inner thoughts to the man.

Both men and women are alike in this area. You begin to love someone and you feel special because you think you are the only one who had the privilege to witness something so personal. You notice the person’s favourite phases. You remember the way he or she walks or waves when you walk by. You know how they brush their teeth or how they arrange their workday. When you know this things and when you think you are the only ones (or the few) you will begin to feel love.

And when you allow a man to explore your private world, he feels that he posseses a part of you that others do not. It is a form of ownership (that you are privileged enough to have the details of a person’s life) and when you no longer have access to the life, you will feel a sense of lost. And that is the moment you will start to obsess.

I am mindful these days. There are topics and information that I would not talk to common friends. Private topics are reserved for closer friends. I will only open myself up to men that I am seeking attention from. When I talk about my dreams and fears, it is a signal that I want to command the attention of a particular man I fancy. Beware when I ask you about your childhood and your relationship with your family because that means I want you. Here. Now.

Making A Bed
There is something absolutely blissful about changing bed sheets and making a bed. And when you can share this mundane task with someone you fancy, you have struck the Relationship bell. To make a person yours, a simple action such as buying bed linen and changing the sheets will give a sense of belonging to each other.

Quite obviously you do not change your bed linen with a stranger. Chances are, the person is already one of your closer friends. If you managed to purchase bed linen together and/or change your bed sheets together, you will be more than friends. Making a bed is a very personal ritual and one that almost guarantees you the person’s heart and mind, when you share it.

I hate changing bed sheets. That is because my bed is this huge and heavy thing. But I absolutely love my bed linen and I am one that would not save pennies buying cheap linen. Changing bed sheet is the one house chore that I never ask my house helps to do. Changing bed sheet, duvet cover and pillowcases is a task that is reserved for the man I want to share my bed with.

This I have noticed in a man - the man will lie in your bed and will offer his arm to you at night if you have successfully spent a weekend morning or afternoon pulling out old sheets and exchanging with the new together. It is a bond that is very intimate and very strong, one that is sexually suggestive and yet remains pure and innocent because it is a household chore. Like a Playboy bunny with a white fluffy tail and tights.

And I love changing bed sheet days with Alex. First we have to dirty the bed sheet as a reason to change them. Then on a Saturday morning, we rise at 10 a.m. and have a splashing time in the bathtub. We change the sheets when our bodies are warm and my long hair still wet. You can hear us moaning as we lift the heavy king size bed and straighten the linen. We giggle when we fluff up our feather pillows.

Then we lie in bed, smelling and appreciating the clean bed sheet. I roll around and we twist and we turn. And soon the bed is in a mess but I love every second of it, including dirtying the bed again.

Grocery Shopping
You cannot possibly drag a man to push a Tesco shopping cart next to you and unless the man is gay, you can be assured that you have scored the man if a man willingly go grocery shopping with you. This is how you know if the man likes you. And this is what I do to subtly suggest to a man that I want him a little bit more than just a friend.

Many might consider grocery shopping a chore, like how all married couples do. But it is an exotic household task to perform together, to signal that you view each other as more than just a “hello and goodbye” friends. An innocent and totally functional activity that you will and should only share with the person you have a love interest in.

For obviously reasons, you might (and can) shop with your colleague for an office farewell party or run to the local store to buy a birthday cake with your MiniBoyFriend. But the feelings evoked are different from shopping with a man that you love or have a love interest in. The kind of shopping I am talking about involves communication and negotiating.

Which type of washing liquid do you use?

Is the brand you choose better quality than the one he chose?

Why you should purchase the specific brand of tuna and not the other?

Does this shampoo smell good on you?

What colour the clothes hanger should be?

And boy, can you be coy when you go grocery shopping. Leave tiny trails of who you are and what you are like. The romantics will shop together. They negotiate what items to buy and they strategize. They discuss what flavour, colour, pattern, brand or products to buy. They shop in pairs and relish in the simple activity of walking down aisles in search of their weekly supplies. Even a straightforward purchase of instant noodles can be quite sexy, if you know how to play with your words. And no, I am not talking about using dirty language in public.

There comes a point in time when I invite the man I like, to go grocery shopping with me. I like to see how he is when he shops for ordinary day to day items. What he likes, what he does not like, how he chooses his things and why he made those choices. I can spend hours in the supermarket, just slowly walking and chatting with my love interest.

The man can be chivalrous and do manly things. He can fetch the can of soup from the tall shelf, for example. He can carry the crate of beer and even offer to carry the bags for you. And you can graciously accept the help, with your “please-s” and “thank you-s”. You can tuck your arm under his while you walk. Or take turns pushing the trolley. It is bliss.

When you have sex, you bind your physical bodies together. When you perform these rituals, you unite your very essence. Do not perform these activities if you do not fancy the man. It is cruel and unfair to him. It is cruel because these rituals will change the course of your friendship and elevate your status. He will feel that he belongs to you and you to him. These are simple, day to day routines but they are very intimate, if you really think about it.

These are the ways to crave your name in the man’s heart. When you lie in bed and talk about your dreams, you are tying your souls together. When you flip your bed and arrange your pillows together, you are subtly reminding him of you each time he sees his pillow. And he will miss you the next time he walks into the supermarket on his own.

And what is taming? Taming is the formation of a relationship, whereby you know the person intimately. And how do you tame? You tame by introducing rituals. And what are rituals? Rituals are the tiniest things done, first apart and slowly together, to bond the two of you together. And before you realise it, you will miss the person when you smell your pillow.

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Monday, February 05, 2007
It's My Party!

Birthdays are strange things. I have many photos of me standing behind a birthday cake when I was a young child of 2 to 6 years. I had retro clothes and mushroom inspired haircuts. And there was the birthday cake, which was actually not a birthday cake. Often they were full moon cakes, given to friends and relatives to announce the birth of a child in the family.

So what the hell was I doing standing with red lipstick, gaudy 70s eye colour and mushroom haircut behind a birthday cake that was not even mine? I am not sure. However my parents said I was always excited about birthday cakes when I was little and they obliged by dressing me up and taking a photo of me in traditional birthday pose: birthday child behind birthday cake.

So I guess between the ages of 2 to 6 years, I had more than 10 birthday photos, of which most were not even on my birthday.

Birthdays are great days. I remember clearly my 12th birthday party because my parents organized a huge party in our local 5 star hotel. It was a fantastic party where 12 year olds get to dress like little adults, complete with handbags and low heels. There were, of course the boys, who came to join us as well and we sat like big people. My 12th birthday party was a fancy high tea party for about 40 children.

I remember that I had my hair tied up in a knot. Those years were spent shuttling about ballet studios and I had my ballet bun on. Again my mother drew my face and I had red stained lips and iridescent eye colour. The photos are not the best of me but there were many photos of my friends and I enjoying the afternoon and I guess that was the important thing in the end.

From the time I worked, I organized equally huge parties during my birthday. Some years I cooked at home and had full course dinners with a table of friends. It was in 1999 that I organized a big party and there were many of photos of me, painting the face of who would be my lover some months later. Life can throw funny cards at you sometimes.

Birthdays were good excuses to pamper one self and to show love for one another. Other years I made reservations in a swanky restaurant and together with close friends, I spent birthday nights laughing and having grand time. Sometimes we adjourned to the lakeside and we sat there for hours end, singing and watching the breeze blow our latest haircuts into mad lady style. The boys got older and balder and the girls just grew prettier.

With my impending 31st birthday in less than seven days looming, I have been thinking about a lot of things. I can no longer introduce myself as “Hi, I am in my mid 20s.” I might get away if I do not need to converse but if I had to, I can not even say “I am in my late 20s”. That’s because I am now “Hi, I am in my early 30s”.

I do look forward towards my birthdays and I am excited that I am getting much older. Yes, my skin is not as supple as it used to be and does not heal as well as it did in my younger years but I absolutely love the fact that I am more self-assured.

What memories will I have for my birthday this year? I am not too sure how my birthday will turn out but I have this inkling that it will be quite fun.

“You and XYZ are cordially invited to join me for a crazy birthday picnic attempt this Saturday, 10th February. Crazy because it will be late morning when I am sure all of us are still in bed but hey, it’s my birthday, so spare me half your weekend. You bring your bikini and I’ll show you a babe. Deal?”

Related Links
  • It is the same birthday wish every year.


Thursday, February 01, 2007
Compensations In Life

~ Your Love Is King, Sade

It is true. It is true that I would have been with you. If the world was still and I could hear my own voice, I would have gladly walk this life with you. I would sing a little tune and we would see a rainbow or two. But the world is in a rush and we are forever busy. And often my own voice drowns within myself and I am lost.

“Why do you smile so much?”

“Because I like what I see.”

"And what is it that you see?"

"I see beauty."

The first moment I saw you, I reckon there was something different about you. Something deeper and tranquil. I caught you looking at me whenever we were out for our weekend parties. You always smiled when my eyes fell on yours. Your blue eyes relentlessly pursued my attention. It was a gaze that said, “I want you to know that I am looking.” You were never apologetic for looking.

Quite honestly, some might consider it staring but I have eyes like yours too. Whenever I liked a man, he will know that I do because I would look for the longest time. A look that is so familiar. Eyes that said, “I am looking at you and I am not sorry for what I see.” Only a person who is confident is able to look at you in the eye and not waver. I am such a person and I like confidence in a man.

“So Antique, are you ready to go?”

“I am sorry, not today, Love. I am too sick. I promise I would walk with you anywhere when I get better.”

“Well we can’t break those ancient bones of yours, now can we?”

Maybe it is true. Age does matter and in your case, age has done you a great favor. There is something inside you that magnetize you. Instantly eyes are drawn to your presence. You are composed and your thoughts are gathered. Your voice lends a sense of calm to those around you. You are suave and poise and I think that combination spells disaster for a girl or two.

Maybe that is it. Your self assuring self assures those around you and it offers comfort. Comfort to me, when I feel lost or blue. There are tonnes of things to do and places to go but when I am with you, everything seems to slow down to a calmer pace. Sometimes it is relief to slow down. Sometimes I itch but that reminds me just how much I love my life.

“We had everything. A beautiful house with a river for a backyard. Fast cars and fancy things.”

“And then what happened?”

“We forgot to love one another."

Listening to you tell your life stories is like reading a good book. It is full of colour, drama, pain, triumph and a splash of climax or two. It is always heartwarming to listen to you talk about your inner thoughts. About your life and what you have done. About your memories of professional racing in your 20s and your baby, a bright spanking red Ducati. About your regrets, love and lost. What went wrong and what was right. How you wish to redeem yourself and how you plan to do so.

Your eyes had a tinge of regret and sadness over a love that lasted half your life but lost at the blink of an eye. I have never slept next to anyone for 17 years but I guess it must be painful to start sleeping alone again after so long. How you miss the scent and the smell and the image of a woman, laying peacefully next to you. I can see the promise you made in your heart, to love again and this time you will not forget the love you shared. I wonder how the woman must have been, to make you make such a promise.

“I want a family.”


“Because I don’t want to be old when my kids are still young.”

“Oh you mean, you prefer to push your 6 year old son’s swing than have him push you in your wheelchair.”


I have never seen a house so empty. No paintings. No books. No cans of food in the pantry. Not many clothes in the cupboards. No flowers. No scent of a woman. All you have is a collection of DVDs and a golf set. I teased you that these were compensation for something that is lacking in your life. You agreed that they were no match to being with a woman. You said golf was a poor compensation for love and movies were rotten activities when you could have had splendid sex.

You are the most broody bachelor I have met in years. The question pops in your mind everyday, plaguing you with thoughts of whether you will ever be a legend. You long to hear a child call you father. You are willing to die just to hear those words whispered into your ears. You wish to leave your mark on this earth when the earth is no more your home. You want a woman to cuddle and nuzzle at night. You want to share a child with her. You want to come home to four walls that is filled with books, toys, clothes and laughter. But here you are, sitting with the TV and junk food in an empty house.

Will you make a fantastic father? Would you be the best lover a woman would ever want in life? Did the past haunt you and shape you so you will love harder and stronger the next round? Do you look at a woman and ask, “will she make a great wife? Will she be the mother of my children?” Does your heart wonder if you will ever find someone to fill your house and make it a home again?

And each time when HBO plays some movie about family life, I turn and look at you. Your eyes will look back at mine, drawn from a secret place below. What do you see when you look at my stomach? Do you see your seed? Why does your heart yearn so much? Why do you have so much regrets? Why you have so much love? Why you smile so much these days? Do you hold a secret that I do not know?

Movie lovers lived, movie lovers died and your warm hands will trail over to mine. You give me a good quick squeeze and you hold a knowing smile. And when I ask what are you thinking, you will say nothing. You will tap my hand once and then I am left to guess what you are thinking while you hold that silent smile.

“You know, I think I am falling in love with you.”

“Hmmm. I have Alex.”

“That is most unfortunate for me.”

“Most unfortunate indeed.”

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