About Nude Not Naked

‘Which is worse?’ he asked. ‘To have too many suitors or to have too little?’

‘I think it’s horrible to have too many suitors,’ I replied. ‘Notice my long list of complaints?’

‘Come on. Admit it. It is much better to have too many than too little,’ he said.

‘If you insist, then yes. I guess it is better to have more choices than a lack of.’

I imagined how beautiful the view out of his window. The Petronas Twin Towers must look absolutely majestic against the slow descend of the sun as we messaged each other on the Yahoo Messenger. Mr. Easter Bunny and I were conversing on a daily basis the week before and after Easter. I was searching for some writing inspiration and he was there at the right place and the right time.



*
If you have noticed (which I am sure you do), I have been avoiding writing lately. I must be one of the most boring persons you ever read about. I write only what I am ready to share and I don’t mince my words around. And when I am not ready to share, I don’t. Hence there is hardly any action here in About Nude Not Naked. I have my regular readers but I am no Kenny Sia.

Not that my life isn’t filled with action. It is. It is very much filled with all sorts of actions but I commit those stories to my memory. I did not tell you that I am doing well and how happy I have become in the last year or so. I dare not share how my life has changed for the better and how comfortable I feel.

And how I finally feel some measure of peace in my heart.

I don’t know how everything started. I hate to think it has to do with age. To admit that I changed because of age is like to admit that I have set limits in my life. And if you know me like how MiniBoyFriend R knows me, you will know that I hate limits. I hate the word because I feel it is constricting.

So no, I don’t think I made different choices (drastic ones, I might add) in the last 18 months or so because I feel that I am getting old. I much prefer to think that I changed because I needed to move onto a new phase in life. I have always felt a need to challenge myself, to push myself further and stretch myself wider. This decision happens to be one of them.

I have never been one that is complacent. My mind is always thinking, moving and changing. My eyes are always searching and observing every minute detail of everything around me. And I always listen to conversations and always enjoyed words.



*
‘Hey sexy mama,’ the voice said.

‘That’s hot, sexy mama to you,’ I said as I continued to type into my iBook. Time to change iBook, I thought to myself as it was overheating. The Apple laptop has served me very well in the last 4 years. I am a happy bird if relationships and friendships were as reliable as my trusty Apple iBook.

‘Where have you been?’

‘Working,’ I said

‘Why working so hard?’ he asked. ‘There is a gig tonight. You must come out. You remember XYZ?’ he asked. ‘He asked me to invite you out tonight because he has not seen you since Famosa’s party’.

I gave a muffled non-commitment mumble of some sort. True to form, I did not go out that night. I watched Heroes on TV instead.

One of the first things that I changed was to reprioritize my time. I have spent too many hours with too many people that I should never have spent time with. They were not bad people. They just weren’t good.

Some of you might ask what motivated me to go out in the first place. There are many reasons and perhaps only MiniBoyFriend R understood them. The main reason however was vanity and ego. It was always lovely to go out somewhere and be admired. Who would not like that? Who wouldn't want to feel that she had just lit up the entire room by just walking into it?

All I needed to do was to spend an hour dressing up (which is a therapeutic experience in itself) and head out for the night. It does not matter which night it was. There were always people out there and there will always be people who would look at you and talk. After some years of dealing with bad 'publicity', I have relented and decided that perhaps ‘bad publicity is better than no publicity’.

Think of it like how celebrities do it. They garner attention each time they go out. The more they go out, the more attention they will receive. They do not appear on magazines and TV for staying at home, you know. Now obviously, the attention can be either positive or negative. For example, having the paparazzi taking your photos, landing you on the best or worst dressed list. But celebrities still battle the paparazzo’s daily because they want to remain in the current news.

It used to be the same case for me too. Continuously dressing up to go out is quite an expensive pastime. However doing so keeps me present in people’s conversations, even when I am not around. The attention has blessed me many privileges. For example, girls working in boutiques reserve clothes for me to try on before they display them in the shops. My hairdresser continuously works miracles by framing my best facial features.

And my bowl of noodles nearly always comes with extra goodies, courtesy of the aunties whom I fondly visit and chat with on working days.

‘Aunty asked where you went,’ PY sms-ed the other day.



*
I have gone under the radar. When once I regularly spent weekends in Lola, I now regularly do not spend weekends there. I miss it every once in a while, so I would dress up again and visit the place. Each time I would try my best to relive all those happy memories I have of the place but I somehow no longer feel the same way. It could just be the booze but I swear that something inside me has changed.

When I look into the crowd of people dancing and gyrating to the music, I no longer recognize anyone. The bar tenders are now strangers, no longer weekend friends. The bouncers however still let me skip the queue and allow me to come and go as I please. Something has changed. I no longer feel that I belong in that noisy place.

I no longer crave for the attention and find no necessity to always be on top of everyone’s conversation topics. I still dress the way that I do and I still have the attention (daytime at least) but I do not feel that I have to push myself anymore.

‘Eh, are you unwell?’ my mother asked me one Saturday night as I sat watching Discovery Channel. She placed her hand on my forehead, to feel my body temperature for sure. ‘You must be sick, if you are not out on Saturday,’ she said.

You know, there was a time when I would just pop one tablet of Panadol and head out on sick nights. Nothing comes between the clubbing scene and me. Not even rainy nights. Nowadays it almost feels okay to be at home on Saturday night, watching TV and answering phone calls.



*
So this is why I no longer have too many drunken stories to share with you. In its place, I have collected many happy and sober stories. Maybe one day, when the time is right, I will share my happiness with you.



*
‘Can we talk?’ R asked yesterday. His message popped on my Yahoo Messenger as I was designing some work related stuff. (Remember that I am the boss, the PA, the dispatch girl and occasionally even the makcik cleaner in the office).

‘Of course,’ came my reply. It must have been the shortest sentence I have written him. Some time ago, I had made a mental note to recognize and allow MBF R to express himself without me prodding him. In short, I recognize that I must change myself, to allow him to write at his pace and not crowd the conversation with my opinion.

‘I must confess to her,’ MBF R started the conversation. ‘She has said yes and I think I should say yes too. So I have to tell her about all my destructive relationships.’

‘Your reasons for doing so?’ I asked.

‘I want to tell her everything, so she is prepared. She is such a precious and innocent thing, I am afraid that I will ruin her.’

R met a girl on a holiday trip and they spent every moment together on the trip. Returning home, the immense feelings they felt for each other did not dissipate. They have gone on with their normal lives and returned to work since they came back from the holiday. It was no longer a holiday inspired fling and they still feel as strongly now in KL, working and busy, as they did while frolicking and relaxing during a holiday.

‘I must cut ties with all my destructive relationships,’ he said.

‘Like what?’ I enquired, waiting for him to mention the not so short list of lunch hour buddies, golf bunnies and genuine muses. Which he did.

It was the first time I ever hear him say that he felt that this was it. The girl gave him the feeling of security and total unconditional love. Actually what he mentioned was, ‘I am 28 years old. I feel that this is the right time. I have to do this right. It is now or never.’ Or something along that vein.

So he is going to cut ties with all the unhealthy relationships and friendships he had developed over time. I understand each and every word R said. I have been down that road before. I have straightened some friendships and severe ties with the rest.

‘But what if I can’t do it?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean you can’t?’ I asked.

‘You know, I like the beautiful girls that dressed to kill, flawless skin under heavy make up, willing to open their legs by the end of the night, drive you insane with jealousy and rage – those sort.’

‘Oh R,’ I said philosophically, ‘aren’t all men the same? They all like beautiful girls who dressed to kill, with flawless skin under heavy make up, ever willing to drop their panties by the end of the night.’ I sighed. Men would be perfect if not for the failure to control their lust factor. (I don’t want to even start talking about this topic).



*
I had a similar conversation with BestGuyFriend years ago, when he first met Nikki. So I guess I had the 'My Best Friend's Wedding' experience, though unlike Julia Roberts, I actually gave my best boy friends away. BestGuyFriend in 2006 and soon, my MiniBoyFriend.

BestGuyFriend married in December 2006 and we have remained casual friends since then. I can see that he is happy whenever I bump into Nikki and him. He is far from the person I knew years ago. He is confident and contented since he rescued Nikki during the great tsunami. I saw them last the weeks before Christmas last year and they looked perfect together.

MiniBoyFriend R and I managed to maintain a reasonable and healthy friendship. We make good friends and catch up for breakfast whenever possible. We still walk the dogs, Vodka and Gin. We still debate if Vodka has preferred inclination since he sniffs boy dog’s bottoms whenever we are out walking. But we no longer spend Sundays painting and cuddling up for movies.

I see D and his bunch of boys mostly in the restaurant that he is now in charge of. He’d call every now and then, for supper but strangely I have not felt hungry enough to dress up at 2 a.m. I think he has also grown up and moved on, although he still goes out with a string of girls, promising nothing to each and every one of them. You have to give him credit when it is due. He was fair to all.

My last memory of Adidas Boy is a happy one. We were walking around aimlessly in Mid Valley and settled for dinner in a Japanese restaurant. We went for some drinks somewhere and chatted until morning when he left for work, holding and manning a video camera and lighting. While snooping around my readers’ blogs (by backtracking to theirs) I discovered that some of you readers actually met and knew Adidas Boy. It is just that you did not realize it. The world is extremely small, don’t you think?



*
I arrived at a stage in my life when I feel that I have a firm grip of everything around me. I do not write about it because I am not ready to celebrate my happiness in public. I still grieve over Alex.

The fantastic thing about men is that they are able to move on after some time. That is nice. That is what I want for Alex. I want him to move on and be happy. Nothing saddens me more than imagining him at a house that stinks of Polish vodka. I rather be the person in the stinky Polish vodka house. I want him to be happy and excited about living. It is important to me that he feels so.

I know that he no longer wears the ring I gave him 2 years ago. I still wear the ring he gave me and I still carry the keys to my English home. It is silly, I know. It isn't like I can open any other door using those keys. But I still carry them because they feel precious. They have a lot of memories attached. One look at them whenever I open my purse and I am transported back to my English home and life. I have not seen Alex for 10 months now, so clearly it is over. It was my decision but I still need time to grief. I just need time to tell myself that it is okay and I can be happy. I do not need to feel bad that I am actually happy inside. I can be free and I can let my happiness show.

Because if I really am honest with myself, I know that I am.



*
'When I first met you and again now as we speak during the past week, I thought that I was sent here to save you,' Mr. Easter Bunny said.

He believed in karma, even when he is not a practicing Buddhist. He believed in destiny and reasons for being. For Mr. Easter Bunny, our sudden conversation spreading over days was not a mere coincident. There must have been a reason why we spoke. I have told him several times that our conversations were just that; conversations. I have no other intentions but perhaps he thought otherwise.

(I do suspect that he reads About Nude Not Naked quite regularly and we are playing a cat and mouse game. He had asked me several times if I published my writings in a blog. He had also very casually mentioned that some of my emails to him were very blog-like, which they were published on ANNN as entries. So you know that I know that you know. Now shhhhhh...)

'That is what you always write about - sins and salvation. So I always thought that I am here to save you. But I now know, it isn't you that needs saving.'

He then told me his dark secret.

'We are talking this week because I needed saving. I have burden - a secret - in my heart. It turns out that you are the friend that I needed,' he said.

Good night my angel time to close you eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Where ever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away

I walked into the old section of One Utama today. I was meant to be here today. I was meant to be here, waiting for someone to finish work and when he finished at 4 p.m., we were meant to walk hand in hand as the sun set far away. Perhaps we would have had something in Bakerzin. Maybe do our dirty laundry in Laundry. I could have sat next to him, like I used to sit in the DJ console so long ago. Maybe I would have walked and shopped all day, being the usual independent spirit that I am.

Instead I walked alone today, aimlessly among the crowd of people. I could not decide if the turn of fate was to my side. Or was fate just playing an evil game on me. Up and down the escalators, my little self just walked on by. There was always life in a crowd of people and if you hold out your hand long enough, you would feel life sweeping past you.

I imagined us dancing and laughing in Slippery Senorita. We would have been there and we would have been free. I imagined walking around the tiny Pearl of the Orient during the day, looking for pigeons nesting quietly in old houses while he was working. I imagined smelling spices and looking at an old drunk beggar sleeping by the ancient streets. Instead on Saturday I nursed myself in bed alone. I was too sick to protest what fate had offered me on a platter.

“I told you never to contact me unless I contact you first. My girlfriend read your message. She is watching us and now we cannot talk anymore.”

I imagine my last words were the very reasons why he has walked into my life for the past six years and why I kept him in mine for the equal amount of time – “I understand”.

It was the end.


Good night my angel now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay

And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep
Inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me

I was asked to join the Pantene search seven times today. I laughed and shook my head whenever they did. I reluctantly told some of them how old I was as some of them persistently walked with me as I walked away.

“How old can you be?”

“I am 30.”

“You sure or not?” they said with that suspicious look written all over their faces. I cannot decide whether that was a compliment or an insult.

I smiled thinking about this. Someone walked through the door some weeks ago and said that I should join the Pantene search too. Three seconds later, he said “Shit, you are too old to participate!” I had that disdained look that said “is that meant to be a compliment because I don’t think it is.” He laughed and patted me on the head, realising what he had said did not come out the way he intended it to be. He tried to explain as we walked towards the Japanese restaurant for dinner. I was enjoying the fact that he was fussing over me.

That was the last time I watched him fall gently into a deep slumber and that was also the last time while he was asleep, his hand instinctively searched for mine. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found what he searched for, when his hand was holding mine. It was 6:42 a.m. on 31st October.

I have watched him sleep many times. He looked like a child each time he closed his eyes. When he sleeps, these voyeuristic eyes of mine witness how all his defences melt away. All that he was left was this child that needed a cuddle. I wondered if she had watched him sleep and saw that he was a child inside too. I have drawn so near, so close to his ears and taken deep breathes so as to immortalise him in me. He will remain a part of me till the next time we meet again. It was the faint smell of baby powder or perhaps even a powdery Issay Miyake. I have gently touched his nose and studied every line and curve on his face. Sometimes he would wake. Each time this happened, he opened one eye, managed a slight smile and patted my head.

“Go to sleep.”

It was cocoon paradise.


Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream
And dream how wondeful your life will be
Someday your child will cry and if you sing this lullaby
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabies go on and on
They never die that's how you and I will be

I woke up this morning, with my mop chopped hair crowding my eyes. I dreamt. I remember that I did. I remember that I was preparing for BestGuyFriend’s wedding on the 16th. I remember that a lady helped me to prepare for the wedding. I was lying naked on the bed, in a pristine white room. The curtains swayed gently against the breeze at the foot my bed. The lady was standing next to me and her fingers were nimbly pressing acupuncture points. I moaned in ecstasy as I usually would during a massage. I am a very tactile person and even as a child, I have always enjoyed massages.

In this lucid dream, my love petals swelled to crimson red and my eyes fluttered. She leaned over and whispered into my ears. I shook my head as my body squirmed. I was fighting and a second later I was relenting. As I opened my eyes, I saw her burying her face between my legs and the dream felt so real that I thought I felt the sensation of a warm tongue gently threading down to my secret garden in this physical world.

I reached out and with a trembling right hand, I protested and pushed her away.

“Just relax,” she said as she drew near me again. She crept slowly like a serpent snaking up my legs. “I love you, Otto. You know I love you. Just relax.”

“I can’t relax. I will never be relaxed,” I said as my hands slid down. I sighed as I pleasured myself. She laid by my side as I said to her in my dream that there was only one man who could satisfy my soul and quench my sex. And as the waves of orgasm rushed to me, I called his name.

The dream was so distinct that I remember every little detail, even the sensation of a woman’s tongue on my scarlet bud. And I remember the name I had subconsciously mentioned in my first same-sex dream. I remember the name of the man who satisfied me so completely that I cannot have another, not even the sweet taste of a woman’s soft tongue.

I remember the name of the man who fulfilled my every need and the name did not belong to him. I caught a glimpse of him sitting on a makeshift box in a corner. His eyes were focused. It was always nice to watch him work, with his work-self being more reliable than he usually would be. It was the one time when he was sharp and disciplined. Instead of the usual me - running towards him and feeling all excited and happy - I turned around and walked away silently in my magenta tulip skirt.

“My chapters are written and my book’s complete. Goodnight, my angel. It’s time for me to go. Someday you and I will be gone but words will stay on and on. Words will never die and that’s how you and I will be.”

***
Related Links

• Cocoon Paradise

To Wendii and all my readers
who missed stories about Alex
and how I used to laugh with him in the summer.

I know that there are many readers who do not know how to respond or react to what I have been writing in the past few weeks, especially when it came to the topic of AB. How is it possible to love someone and to long for another's company. I am not making any excuse. I shan't even justify my emotions or my actions or how I came about to being happy in the company of two men.

The story is simple, really and I shall tell you. How it is possible to love two very different men... How I ended up leading a life in a small room with one man and travelled the world with the other... How one opened me up to see the brighter side of life and how the other closed ourselves in a blanket of secrecy... And how both of them brought different degrees of sunshine into my life but only one unintentionally brought me tears and fears.

I grew up with these feelings. I knew AB when I was 24 and he was merely 21. His girlfriend was 18 then. How we ended up in this whirlpool of mixed emotions, false pretence and selfish love, I do not know. I do admit that part of my eventual break-up with my Swedish Love was due to my relations with AB. Swedish Love and I never stayed together while in Malaysia. He had his own apartment while I lived with my parents. Henrik and I did our daily stuff like all couples do and each night I pet him to sleep, then I went home, got dressed and to a certain extend snuck out to meet up with AB. Do that for two years and it is bound to fuck up anyone's mind. It surely fucked up mine.

(Quite predictably Alex was my other reason for breaking up with Swedish Love.)

I spent a few years waiting for AB pet his gf to sleep, then sneaking out to drive around the bright city lights with me. I spent even more years listening to him tell his gf that he was somewhere else, when he was actually with me. The last time I heard this was last Tuesday. We were young and we were free. We laughed when the police stopped us for loitering at 5 a.m. We walked around the old buildings surrounding the city when the skies were a bluish tint, where nothing but the pigeons heard our footsteps. We played together, we flirted. We rubbed our faces against each other, we had our sweat all fused together. He called each day when he got out of bed at 2 p.m. and I accompanied him at work on most nights. He held my hands as we fell into gentle sleep on weekends. Everything was so long ago, all memories in a puddle. I can no longer tell reality from fantasy. Maybe I have even made him perfect in my head.

Yes, he is drawn to other girls and has numerous sexual relationships with many of them. I was introduced to one of his permanent partners. She sat outside by the DJ console while I went in to chat with him. AB having all the other girls is a fact that I have never denied. For crying out loud, he worked as a DJ. One should understand better and not expect loyalty from someone like him. It would be easier for a gay to turn straight than for a person with his type of occupation to change and devote himself to just one woman. Just too many free fish around.

So why is he looking for me? Why does he seek out for me every now and then? While he sought others for sex, what does he get out of me? Moon said he received emotional comfort and perhaps for a boost in confidence. I always believed he was strong and smart and everything. Maybe I am the only one who stupidly thinks so. Personally I have reached a point when I would like to think that I am just his free fish. I jump on dry land for him any time of the day... Thinking this depresses me but helps me cope emotionally.

Where is Alex in this whole equation? My readers will be glad to know that Alex is safely right on top of the equation. I will never leave Alex. Some people have the ability to bring out the best in you and in my life, that somebody is Alex. He shines like a star, to guide me on my way. He brings out of the best in me and I love myself the most whenever I am with him. His presence offers me comfort and security that I have never known. Coming from an unorthodox family life, Alex (and his family) offers me a sense of normalcy and contentment, showing me a way to have a healthy relationship and family life. Plus he planted some onions in the garden for me last year when I told him that I did not know how onions grow.

This is the smart fish versus stupid fish debate. Alex is a smart fish’s choice and AB is a stupid fish’s. Just because you enjoy a person’s company, it does not necessarily mean you will smile when you go to sleep ten years from now. Choose someone that you know you will share a good life with. Ignore whatever good feelings you get from other people because they are not real, no matter how tempting they are. Try to think how it would be like to live ten years from now. What will your life be twenty years from now? Who will still be there for you and how loved will you be?

There comes a point in your life where you have to decide what you want. You want the bad boy whom you know will break your heart a million times over or you want the good boy you know you and your future children will be safe with? Do you want tears every day and night, lies and deceits that drowns you so deep? Or would you rather smile and enjoy life with a man who is devoted to you? Do not make the mistake of trying to change a man. Men never change and I do not expect AB to change the way he is. Neither do I expect Alex to suddenly discover a love for slouchy trousers and penile piercings.

“So what is AB then?” Ian asked.

Being with AB is like a dream and where dreams are concerned, AB is a very beautiful dream, a whole alternate universe. Come morning when droplets of morning dew disappear, so will he and his shadow. I will remember every moment spent with him, all my tears and laughter. All our secrets can be cherished and relived in my mind but those moments will never see the light of day because he is never going to be the man I would choose. I might long for him and dream of him but these feelings are held captive in some dark recess in my mind. I will never be with AB because the ending will never be happy and this is something we both know.

Listening to Hinder's Lips Of An Angel comforts me. Currently it is looping on my iTunes. Listen to the lyrics and you will know what I mean. This is the sort of conversation AB had with me for 6 years. This is the sort of conversations I imagine we will have till the day we die, unless one of us decide to finally cut all ties. I am glad to know that I am not the only one living with recurring dreams and fantasies of an alternate life that will never come true.

There are just some things in life that you know you cannot have. You cannot have them because you know that they are bad for you. You might enjoy the taste of the poison on you lips now but you know it will eventually kill you. So you deny your heart of its desires and with your mind, you find another. Find another whom you will be better off with.

For some the unconsummated love might be due to circumstances out of their control. Perhaps an event that changed the course of their love and they find themselves in a position whereby, they cannot be with the person they love anymore. Some chose to part and others chose not to start because of location, religion, culture, family or professional background, different financial situations etc. And they are left with a desirable dream because it was never a reality.

And you pay the price of knowing of an alternate life - the should have beens and the could have beens you could have shared with another. Sometimes love does not conquer all and the saddest part is you walk on this eart knowing it is true. Love seldom conquers all and often it dies in the shadows.

Some things are just beyond our control. Like love. Even with the best intentions, not all love will blossom into happiness and sunshine.

***

~ Lips Of An Angel, Hinder.


Honey, why you calling me so late?
It's kinda hard to talk right now
Honey, why you crying? Is everything okay?
I gotta whisper cause I can't be too loud

Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I, never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It's funny that you're calling me tonight
And yes I dreamt of you too
And does he know you're talking to me? Will it start a fight?
No, I don't think she has a clue

Well my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I, never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

To Moon
because you know my tears
and I guess, I know yours.

Each night, I am conscious. I know that I am drifting into a far away place, somewhere into my subconscious, on the super highway to infinity. I know that I am falling into a frozen state of mind, where my emotions run free. I find myself thrown into a deep dark hole each time I close my eyes to sleep. I am flung downwards, spiralling into the unknown. My arms wide open, the feeling of almost freedom, with the exception that there is nothing to hold me back or spring me back to where I was before this moment. Everything is beyond my control and I can do nothing but hurl further downwards. I tumble deeper and deeper into the bottomless abyss. I cannot even hear myself scream.

I am trying to analyze this new sleep phase I have reluctantly found myself in. Is this vodka doing some evil nasties to my body? I have drunk so much that my tongue feels like a six month old sandpaper.

Or could it just be the restless nights I have been having since Diwali? All the constant 5 a.m. sleep and 8 a.m. get ups are bound to wreck something in my head, I guess.

Or maybe, just maybe this is a reflection of my emotional state. I do not even want to think about this.

I was trying to fight the sensation of descending into the coldest nightmare when his right hand snaked between the sheets and stopped the moment his five fingers were between mine. I was asleep and fighting and yet I was conscious enough to hear him breathing softly. His clinging hand was reassuring. It was as if he knew too that I was fighting my demons each night.



***
One of the best gifts that Alex gave me was a simple email. In this private correspondance between two lovers, Alex quoted a paragraph from an Ian Bank’s novel. In it, the writer described the magical moment of watching his lover sound asleep and hearing her breathe softly. Alex used the paragraph in relation to he felt watching me fall asleep ever so gently, into the most beautiful dreams. He said I had a serene countenance whenever I sleep.

"You always smile whenever you are asleep," Alex said.

I want to hear Alex say that to me again. Say it to me again, Alex. Tell me about my smile when I am asleep. I cannot remember feeling happy when I wrap myself in my seven pillows each night. Remind me of what it feels like to be happy in your embrace. I long for the nights when the frosty wind is howling cold outside our bedroom window. You said it was your tactic to get me to snuggle closer into your manly armpits (so you say). And you would cuddle me in your arms and I will feel safe. I will feel safe enough to sleep. You have the ability to banish all my darkest monsters to a land faraway and you keep all my fears at bay. I have realised time and time again that I only sleep with a smile when I am with you. When you are gone, I am a lost child and I do not know my way home. I want you to bring me home.



***
I am quitting drinking for the next few days. I am quitting going out for the next few days more. I have a spot on my nose and then five more red dots on my cheeks. My eyes are shut during the day because they are strained from the constant solar glare. The sun is conspiring with the truth, in their weak attempt to lead me back to the right path. I have lived in the shadow of four confined walls for too long and it is time for me to wake up once more.

I am sick of lying to myself, so sick that I feel ill. I cannot find another lame excuse to torture myself nor can I find a reason to. I have punished myself long enough and I think I have had about enough. I am tired of being lethargic, my emotions’ gone cuckoo. I do not know what to do with my frail self. Perhaps I do but I am not admitting to myself. Maybe I am too weak to face reality. Maybe I do not want to. I want someone to throw me a lifeline but I know that only person who can do is selfishly not doing it.

I could cast myself from this lake of torment, so why do I choose to swim in this sea of tears?

"Sleepy smiles are only second best to sleep sex. Trust me. I might not know how to get out of this emotional vortex but I know what feels good and what is bad."

***
Related Links

• Read posts on Alex


• Read posts on AB

"I am very possessive," he said.
"And I can never be possessed," she said.

I was in a shopping mall today when suddenly I looked up for a sign that led me to the ladies. I ran as quickly as I could and leaning against the wall, I caught secret tears with my hands. Secret tears that slowly flowed, so secret that my heart did not know.

I promised myself that I would not cry over this. I cried the last round and this time I said that I would not do the same. I told myself that I will harden my heart and I will feel not an ounce of sadness when it is over. I managed to remain absolutely calm and composed for more than three hours while my mind concentrated on driving to the shopping mall and then busied itself purchasing some home things. Now that the tasks are over, my mind is playing mindfucking games on me.

I hate to think. He asked me not to think. D told me that I think too much. Alex said I think myself to the brink of insanity and unhappiness. Moon. Moon said she’ll slap me if I ever even dare think of running away to Goa with some dreadlock boy. Thinking about everything now, I still hate to think.

We went out for dinner last night. It was the first time that we walked out in the open and I saw the evening sun setting on the west. It felt strange, being let out of the confines of a room after spending the last three or fours years secretly meeting somewhere. The sunlight shone into my eyes and suddenly it felt as if I saw shadows that never existed in the bedroom. Perhaps how happy I felt within the room was in fact an illusion of embryonic happiness. Cast me out of that cocoon and I will begin to see cracks that I have never noticed before the moment we sat ourselves in a Japanese restaurant.

There was a feeling of fantasy, escapism and secrecy for all the years we have secretly looked at each other in a crowded place. How he brushed his hands gently along my bottom and instantly I would know he was near. Now both of us are older. I can see age in his eyes. I can see age in mine. How long can we play this hide and seek game?

We sat by the kaitan belt and in unison, we called for California Temakis. The first time we sat in the open and had a proper dinner together. There was just him with his dread locks and just me in my denim skirt and footless tights. The two tables in front of us were staring. They must have shared similar thoughts with the guys in Digi Center when we visited five minutes earlier - they thought we were different customers, when in actual fact I merely trailed after him like a lost fluffy bunny. We chatted merrily, bringing each other up to date with the who's who and what's what. I even caught myself laughing when I leaned backwards and saw the reflection of my lips pursed together in a childlike smile.

“Your hair damn cute wei,” he said, then patting my head.

Yes. My hair is now the plague of my existence for the past 36 days. My current chop is so crudely cut that standing next to Amy Search will immediately make him a dashing man.

“I think there are three hedgehogs, two porcupines and a rabbit living in my hair at the moment,” I said.

He laughed hearing me say that. He looked like a child when he laughed. There is something about those eyes - inquisitive, sensitive and pained.



***
“So you want to learn some origami, is it?”

I peered from the corner of the bed. This is what he uses his business cards for, I thought to myself. He tore a tiny corner off, rolled and licked it. I shook my head and pouted.

He was relaxed. He was leaned against the wall and smiling a dreamy smile after two joints. We left the room again and in the middle of the night, we found ourselves in a pub. This is the first time he was not the DJ and I was not a patron. For once, we were equals, both of us were visitors to the pub. Initially I felt a little tensed mainly because I did not know what to do or say. The two Mai Tais I had in the first hour helped smooth everything out.

He laughed, recounting how we met. “You know, I spoke to E so that I could talk to you eventually? You fucking don’t smile wei,” he said, then laughing and playing with my rabbit infested hair. His eyes widened when I suddenly burst into tiny peals of laughter. I recounted the time when E and I stopped in front of a house when we saw him. His girlfriend was standing behind him when E candidly asked him to hop into our car for a midnight joy ride. And there he stood, his eyes trying to tell us not to be cheeky because his girl was around.



***
“What happens if I don’t love her anymore?” he asked me in all seriousness. I shook my head. I never entertained that thought. Apparently he has been entertaining that thought, which does not surprise me. He was worried not so much for how she felt but how her parents would react. Her father played a major role in his life after his father passed away when he was 7 years old. Nothing can break bonds like that.

“What happens if I leave her and go out with another girl?” he asked. He was fishing for an answer. “I mean, it’s a bit fucked up. Break up with girlfriend and not end up with you.”

“Then I will be free.” I caught myself breathing again.

Traveling I only stop at exits
Wondering if I'll stay
Young and restless
Living this way I stress less
I want to pull away when the dream dies
The pain sets in and I don't cry
I only feel gravity and I wonder why

Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end

***
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~ I Bruise Easily, Natasha Bedingfield

Ten years have passed since I was in a very unhealthy relationship. In retrospect, I can see all the pit falls along the way. The problem I faced was that I refused to see all the wrongs as what they really are: pure wrongs. Instead I made up excuses for the person and even more excuses why I must be patient and accept the circumstances I found myself in as a 20 year old.

There were nights of mental torture, sleeping with a pair of scissors and praying that I will open my eyes again the next morning. There were emotional and physical abuses so violent that I had to resort to counselling. There were phone calls to the police station, begging them to come help me pacify the raging monster.

To be honest, I do not think I have quite recovered from the whole experience. It has changed my perception of men, changed my ideas of what a relationship should be and most definitely altered my opinions of God, church, life and most of all, love. I learned to toughen up and to stand on my own. I was forced to learn how to defend myself against people who were there to judge me.

“Oh if you love him, you will forgive him.”

“At least you still have your teeth. XYZ lost 2 of her teeth and she is still with him. Praise God for that!”

I am sorry but I do not see why we should celebrate a person who lost only two teeth but thank goodness, at least is still alive. What is the use of being alive if you are a walking dead? And I have lived more than 2 years of my life as one of such people. I remember days when I floated aimlessly. I avoided people and I no longer met friends. I did not know how to lie to them anymore when they ask, “How are you?” I was flesh and blood but I had no soul. The pair of eyes that stared back at you, though breathing, was in actual fact, dead.

I was naïve then. I bet that all of us have heard “love conquers all” at some point in our lives. I was a firm believer in this notion. If you love, you love the person wholly and you accept the good and the bad. But what if the bad is so bad that you cannot afford a normal lifestyle? Where you fear for your life and that of your loved ones? Where does the love start and where does it end?

And if you love, you will forgive. And I am sure many of us do forgive our partners. You forgive the person three hundred and seventy eight times every week, for the tiny things he does. Like for hogging TV control and kicking the door whenever he did not get his way. And then you forgive him for banging your parent’s door with a hockey stick, threatening to kill you, your family and the cat. Where does the forgiveness end and justice begin?

Speaking of the cat – I started to care for cats out of desperation. I was under so much relationship pressure and was totally unloved that I bought a Siamese cat and named him “Precious”. He was named “Precious” because he was the precious gift of love, attention and sanity in times when I was trapped in a dead relationship but was too afraid to admit to myself and to others that perhaps it was not the right relationship for me.

So you see, you can never fit a square into a circle. A circle is a never-ending ring that loops into itself and a square is four straight lines joined at right angles. You will get nothing other than frustration when you try to cramp a square into a circle. The harder you try to force it into the differing shape, the more pain you will experience.

And guess what? It is far easier to admit that a square is a square and therefore will never fit into a circle. You will feel exceptionally disturbed as long as you insist that the two fit together and perhaps quadruple your chances of dying young of heart attack if you persist in your futile quest.

Shapes will only fit equal or similar shaped objects. Just like relationships will only work if the partners have complimentary temperaments. I have spent too many years trying to fit my square self into someone as smooth as a circle. Obviously a circle is very attractive with it is smooth side and its unavailability. Its nature is to roll on forever. Perhaps that was the thrill and I sucked onto it for far too long.

I am a literal square. Despite what you read here in ANNN, I am actually a very quiet personality. I thrive better in comfortable and slower paced environments, despite finding myself drawn to the beautiful nightlights like a moth to its death in an electrical moth trap. I do not have the necessary skills to keep myself alive on modern hard surfaced mean streets and I am hardly streetwise. I might want to leave my world and lose myself in the vibrant convergence of perpetual streetlights and faithless love but I know I would die there. I have died many times trying to go there...

Moon said she would slap me if I ever run away with a circle. That is the best thing that I have heard in a long, long time. Thank you and good night.

“Would you come with me, if I leave my girlfriend?” he asked. I think he was testing me.

“Yes,” I said, then staring intently into his brown eyes. My eyes did not flicker for a second but I think he knew I had lied. He understood me more than I give him credit for.

***
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• I Am Just A Prisoner Here, Of My Own Device

I sent a copy of “You Killed Me Today” to Alex after I had loaded it onto Blogspot. After all the tears writing that piece, I was obviously fishing for some comments that only a hairy boy could give. He said that I consisted mostly of memories and that particular entry was fuelled by childhood memories of my white and black spotted dog I named Peter.

Memories are very important to me. They form a huge part of me and I constantly play them like a long video clip in my head. Memories of good times, memories of bad, memories from my childhood and fresh memories of yesterday. I read somewhere that many writers are observers. It struck a chord in my heart for I love observing especially human interaction and words. I love observing everything that passes me by and I can play the scenes in my head a thousand times a day, then writing about the experience.

Moon remarked that I was very different from what she imagined me to be. I think she was pretty disappointed when she realised that I am a very still person in real life. I do not possess a loud personality or qualities that are larger than life. Or perhaps it was the choice of place we were at – we were sitting quietly in the corner chatting and dreaming instead of drowning ourselves with Vodka Ribena, although I remember clearly that I had two teacups of Vodka Ribena that night.


~ Come Away With Me, Norah Jones


Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song

Come away with me on a bus
Come away where they can't tempt us
With their lies

Sometimes I think the strangest things happen for a reason. Often we never understand why they happened but the fact remains, they happened. Take Alex, for example. E and I were on a girls’ weekend together in Perhentian when we met three boys. Everyone were smittened by E’s confidence and charm. I walked three steps behind her, always quiet and always observing. It comes as no great surprise if I told you that all the boys paid 110% of their attention on her and surrounded her through the days we were on the island.

I remember the first time Alex came away with me. He walked ahead of the group and alongside with me. We walked barefoot from Coral Bay towards Long Island. It was total darkness and we were guided only by Alex’s torchlight. We spoke as we briskly walked on the cold muddy path towards Long Island, with E and the two boys behind us.

“So how old are you?” he asked.

“26.” We were climbing a slight slope when he asked me that question. “How old are you?”

“You guess,”

“28,” I swiftly replied. He looked a little older than I and I was 26 then.

“I am 22.”

I nearly slipped and fell when he said that. I remember laughing, thinking that he was teasing me. He was not. He was and still is 4 years younger than me. Somehow as we walked, we lost E and the two other boys. Alex and I were alone, looking at the moonlight dancing with the waves.

“Lie on me,” Alex said. “Don’t dirty your clothes.”

I hesitated for a second. I was 26, not very streetwise but I was certainly not dumb. He laid down and reached out for my hands. I took them and laid very still on top of Alex where he promised me that he will follow me wherever I go.



I want to walk with you
On a cloudy day
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high
So won't you try to come

“He’s looking at you,” E giggled.

One day a long time ago, E and I were on our usual Saturday breakfast when we chanced upon a very good looking traveller. He sat across us with an architecture book in his hands and he appeared to be looking in our direction each time we were looking at his.
E devised a grand plan to find out who he was looking at. She sent me to fetch us some iced water and observed who he was looking at. So off I went, walking in the best possible way I could muster.

“He’s looking at you,” she said, nudging me. I smiled at the most beautiful dark haired stranger. As a result, E and I sat there for five hours, waiting for him to come approach us, like how boys normally do. That, he did not.

Finally giving up, we left and went into my car, where E suddenly felt a rush of excitement and said, “Remember we said we’ll do whatever we fear most? Well give me your email address.” She took the small slip of receipt and walked up towards the man who sat 5 hours staring back at us earlier.

He came away with me three days later. He wrote me a short email and we scheduled a meeting in my favourite restaurant. I remember that it was raining and I was wearing a black short dress with tiny yellow flowers. I felt so tense about the meeting that I walked past him without noticing that he was standing at the bar. He caught my hands. PY joined us some time later (as a chaperon but she did not say or do much). That night Swedish Love and I sat across each other, staring into each other’s eyes. We were so excited that we hardly said a word.



Come away with me and we'll kiss
On a mountaintop
Come away with me
And I'll never stop loving you

And I want to wake up with the rain
Falling on a tin roof
While I'm safe there in your arms
So all I ask is for you
To come away with me in the night
Come away with me

E and I spent a huge portion of our mid 20s clubbing. The week began on a Friday afternoon when we would be out shopping for clothes and shoes we would wear for the weekend. We had fancy dinners and proceeded to hop from one bar to the next. Somewhere along the line, we started visiting a dance club where we met two DJs.

I remember the first time I spoke to AB. He came over to “investigate” if E would like to spend some time with his partner (the other DJ). I was so put off by AB’s remarks that I sent him away. He smiled, probably feeling tickled that I had such strong reactions towards his friend’s suggestion to E for a fuck and go session.

The following weeks he came over and we chatted a little more. One weekend I mentioned that I would not be there the following week because E would be away. AB suggested that I go nonetheless. I laughed, stating that it was absolutely stupid for me to be alone in a club. He promised to keep me company.

So the following weekend I found myself with him. True to his word, AB was with me the whole entire night. When he was not playing, he stood next to me. And when he was manning the decks, I was with him in the DJ console. We danced, we laughed and we had loads of fun. Our sweat mixed as he glided his hands along mine. Our faces touched and we whispered into each other’s ears. By the end of the night, there was a fight and the bouncers threw the boys out into the streets. I remember AB standing at the door, lighting up a cigarette. He said he would walk me to the car once those boys walked away. So we stood by the door and watched the boys wrestle and beat each other shitless.

He came away with me for many nights. The nights stretched into days and the days into months and the months into years. I drove us around the city as we searched for the brightest lights. We parked the car by the lake and watched the sun rise. Our bare feet were on the dashboard when a police on patrol knocked on his side of the window. We laughed when the police asked us to go back home. We did go back to his home, where we sat on the porch.

As months passed, we were kissing for hours in his living room. It was just a matter of time before I found myself in his bedroom, sleeping in his arms and leaving only when the sunrise. I remember us kissing as raindrops gently splashed down the roof tiles of his single storey link house. I could hear his mother wake up to take her morning walks. We lay on our backs and I saw small circles of smoke rising towards the ceiling, then disappearing. We held hands as the rain lulled us to gentle slumber.



***
Writing this makes me think of really sweet memories of people who came away with me and changed our lives as a result. This process of coming away creates a very strong bond between the people who partook of the process. Through my experience of coming away with different people, I know that it creates an illusion that you belong to each other. It builds an emotional union that is strong and impresses itself into your memory. Once you have come away with a person, you will look at each other different and you will develop your own private language. You will start to talk with your eyes. And out of the sea of a few hundred people, you will only see that one person because you have tamed him and he has tamed you.

I shall end this entry with a passage taken from The Little Prince by Antoine Saint De Exupery.

”What does tamed mean?”

“It’s something that’s been too often neglected. It means ‘to create ties…'”

“To create ties?”

“That’s right,” the fox said. “For me, you’re the only little boy just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you have no need of me, either. For you I’m only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we’ll need each other. You’ll be the only boy in the world for me. I’ll be the only fox in the world for you… My life’s monotonous. I hunt chickens; people hunt me. All chickens are just alike, and all men are just alike. So I am bored.

But if you tame me, my life will be filled with sunshine. I’ll know the sound of footsteps that will be different from all the rest. Other footsteps send me back underground. Yours will call me out of my burrow like music.

And then, look! You see the wheat in the fields over there? I don’t eat bread. For me wheat is of no use whatsoever. Wheat fields say nothing to me. Which is sad. But you have hair the colour of gold. So it will be wonderful, once you’ve tamed me! The wheat, which is golden will remind me of you. And I’ll love the sound of the wind in the wheat…

The only things you learn are the things you tame,” said the fox.

***
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• Do you know if you can get pregnant on 1st day of period? Click to find out the answer in Ask Miss Love.

Goodbye My Lover, James Blunt


"Tell me again, tell me if you do,"

"What? That if I love you? You know that I do,"

"Then tell me again, AB. Can you please tell me? Tell me why do I love you?"

"Because I am the opposite of you..."



***
I know your smell and I know you do not love me. I have said that a thousand times and I find myself saying that again and again, trying to convince myself that it is true. I know it is true. You do not love me and there is no reason for me to love you.

But I just do.

And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.
I've kissed your lips and held your head.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.
I know you well, I know your smell.
I've been addicted to you.

Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.


***
It's been 6 months since I laid in your arms and 2 years since we shared your bed. It's time for me to let you ago. I am trying my best. This will be my one thousand and one attempt. If I try hard enough, I know one day it will come true. One day the sun will shine when I open my eyes. On that day, my goodbye will be the last and I will be free. I will no longer think of you.



Protecting ourselves




***
Related posts

• The Key

~ Goodnight Moon, Shivaree
Listen closely to the lyrics for this post's hidden message.




I know my posts suck in the last two weeks. I know I am not writing at my optimum best and I am not writing what I am good at – relationships - or so I think I am good at. I am hanging in limbo at the moment, with half of my next four months packed into a box and a backpack. I have a whole new set of facial cleansers that I fear I’ll lose in midair. Airplane pressure does strange things to your feet and your cosmetics. And watch batteries for my watch died on me upon arrival in London on the last two occasions.

This feeling of neither here nor there is nothing new to me. I have travelled this way and lived this way for the pass five years. Even Milo, my puss has gotten used to me coming and going. I sit in my bathtub, thinking and reflecting. What have I achieved in my life, what do I want out of my life and how I am going to achieve it? I love going back in time and relive some moments of my life.

Like last Monday, when I was on my way home with a flat tire. 100meters to my house, a familiar silhouette appeared in the opposite direction. I swear that this shadow is carved into my heart forever. It never fails to make my heart skip a beat.

As his car approached mine, I could see his eyes and how intent he looked. His girlfriend was sat next to him, looking to her left. He looked to his right and into my car. He stole a glance and smiled a knowing smile. Our paths crossed and then it was lost again.

He had a mop of dreadlocks. Clocks all over the world have moved a million times and he still had his serene grin. There is something boyish about him; his t-shirts, jeans and Adidas shoes.

I could write a million stories about him but I guess there is no use of doing so. It would all begin with, “he used to”. What is the use of “he used to” when he no longer is? What is the use of writing a whole book about him? It will not help him. Neither does it help me. Perhaps I could immortalise a small part of my life but what will I achieve?

I would be nothing more than a lovesick puppy, thinking about a person who does not think of me. He used to be mine but now no longer. I do not know if I had him for two seconds or perhaps three years. I know however that we could be great friends but never great lovers.

So that is that.



The Good
The constant question I ask myself is, “Why are there so many men?”. I am surprised that no reader has asked me this and I am not sure if there were readers who were beginning to question. Perhaps I am just an introvert and I think far too much for my own good. But yes, even I have asked myself, “So Otto, where are there so many men in your life?”

I know the answer to this question. There are men who break your soul and then there are men who would mend your heart. Some men rolled along and robbed me of my life and I waited years before some men came to save my soul. I am sure that through my stories, you are well acquainted with some of the men in my life and how they shape me into the person that I am.

The one person that I do not talk about much is Alex. You are greatly mistaken if you think that I do not love him. I love Alex to bits. I am very private about my relationship with Alex because I love him. What we share is private and I do not like people interfering in it – be it with smart comments or nasty gossips.

I think I am a very private person in real life. I do not know how I am to part with some measure of privacy in favour of a blog now, a newspaper or magazine column within the year and a book by the next. Not many around me know me as one who has a boyfriend. The general public sees me with so many boys that they cannot keep track of who is who. I am not one who would hide under some manly armpit. Neither am I one who can be tamed by a man.

So perhaps I deserve the amount of gossip surrounding my public figure. After all, I have the ability to have my daily meals with three different men in a day.

The only time I am very open about my relationship with Alex is in the UK. Somehow I feel free there and there aren’t any second cousin’s older brother’s best friend to scrutinize how Alex and I conduct our lives. Nor tell me what to do with our lives. Nor are there great family dinners to attend every three months.

It is just me. It is just Alex. And that is good enough.

I cannot wait to go back to my garden. Apparently my garden has sprung into action and all are blossoming well. All are well except the Ligularia, which are slug food anyway. I never expected them to grow back this spring. My bags are half packed and now all I need is my ticket. As it is, I am going to miss my duck rice date with Boss Stewie because I bought my ticket late. I have not bought my ticket yet. Otto bad!




The Bad
And because Alex is not around to tell me what to do with my life or how I should live my life or where I can go and who I can be out with, I am left to my own devices. Some see it as good (that would be me) and some see it as bad (everyone else). I certainly feel that Asian men generally need to control their women. Or perhaps, Asian women like to be instructed. It makes them feel loved.

“No, you cannot have coffee with him/her.”

“Make sure you come back by 10 p.m. I will call you to check.”

“I don’t like you out clubbing.”

“You are not permitted to wear that sexy blouse.”

“You must eat less. You are so fat.”

I know of a chubby girl who loved the fact that her even chubbier boyfriend kept calling her fat. “He loves me so much, that’s why he calls me fat and asks me to lose weight,” she said, beaming a smile, now a size smaller and in high heels, of course. What good is a pornstar if she is not in her high heels?

I might be mixing with the wrong type of Asian men. I have thought about the possibility that I might just be in the wrong company. But the Asian men I know are either the businessman who married a decent lady, have kids with her and dump the whole bunch at home while he is out working. And his definition of working includes having meals and after drinks with beautiful secretaries and clients.

Have you seen the lot of them? These men burp and rub their tummies on any given Sunday while his 2.5 kids run around the dinner table, his wife dressed in a fitted blouse and linen pants. These men are great caregivers but they do not give their souls to the family.

Of course he gave the best that he has – his money – to his wife. In turn his wife, because she is a nice girl, uses the money to build a home for the family, send the kids for tuition and tennis lessons and some sexy lingerie for herself to fulfil her duty as the ideal wife.

I do not want a life like that.




The Ugly
Now the bachelors are not any more noble. I have gone for parties, be introduced to new men and be on a joyride home with my girlfriends. And the calls will start 5 minutes after my goodbye.

“You going anywhere after this?”

“Perhaps I can see you for coffee tomorrow?”

“Let me show you the most beautiful skyline.”

I always imagined them to excuse themselves from the given company to call me privately. Then they will say how much of a good time they have had and a suggestion of the possibility of catching up later. They will go back to their company, pretending as if nothing ever happened then after.

There would be nothing to write about if it was just so innocent, now would there? These men often pit themselves against their closest mates, childhood friends and even colleagues. These are the same men who pat each other’s back ten minutes ago, saying how close buddies they were with each other or how they played football since Primary Five.

Tell me how you would feel if you have heard all the lies and the stories that men can ever make up? Would you not feel like me, a little disgusted at how bitchy a man can be when he wants to get into your French knickers? Oh no, I am not saying that these men love me. They lust, not love. Which adds to the disgust, I guess.

Sometimes I wonder whether this is just a “Otto problem” or do other girls experience the same? I bloody hope that this is a general female population problem and not just a ME problem. If it is, then I am truly fucked.

I will not end this post with a traditional feel good conclusion. This is because I do not feel good about all that I have seen and heard. Normally I do not want to talk about stuff like this because I think it is fucked up. It really plays with my mind and it makes me wonder how much can I trust a man with my heart.




“There’s a shark in the pool
And a witch in the tree
A crazy old neighbour and he’s been watching me
And there’s footsteps loud and strong coming down the hall
Something is under the bed
Now its out in the hedge
There’s a big black crow sitting on my window ledge
And I hear something scratching through the wall

Oh what should I do I’m just a little baby
What if the lights go out and maybe
I just hate to be all alone
Outside the door he followed me home
Now goodnight moon
I want the sun
If its not here soon
I might be done
No it wont be too soon till I say
Goodnight moon”
~ Goodnight Moon, Shivaree

~ Crazy Thing Called Love, Queen




Coffee With My Lawyer
I went out for a date with my lawyer to discuss a legal matter. We agreed to meet up at 11 a.m. and he was there punctually. I was there a little earlier because I am a punctuality freak. My lawyer and we have been friends since I was a wee child (okay, I was a teenager then). He watched me grow up, from wearing dorky Sunday church dresses to a full grown woman today. Oddly we never really went out together, although I meet him often for legal advice.

He sat across me with his arms crossed. He smiled and got straight into the matter at hand. Crossing arms is a sign of defence, I thought to myself. I noted in my heart that the meeting would yield its usual conversations – about my business, my parents (since he provides legal advice to them too) and perhaps my generally development. Crossing of arms meant that he was careful with his words and he would not tell me anything more than necessary.

I bought my lawyer coffee for the day. It was the first time that I did so. We have never been out together, outside his office walls. It was about time anyway since he has taken care of me legally speaking since the day I started work and kept me sane through the tougher times. I even told AB that he should call my lawyer to bail me out, if ever the police raided and I was sent to squat outside of a police station. Thankfully that day never happened since D kept me well informed and AB rushed me out of raids 5 minutes before they happened.

After some time, my lawyer opened up a little more and we started talking about our private lives. How we met and we are REALLY doing these days, which meant we talked about the not-so-polite details of our daily lives. It was quite intriguing the life my lawyer led. He asked me some questions eventually and for once, I felt quite smart. Usually I did the asking and my lawyer answered. This time around, he asked me questions that I am all too familiar with – relationships.

There is no 100% foolproof formula for a relationship. There are far too many variables involved and that is what makes relationships so maddening when we are frustrated and satisfying if we managed to nurture love. Some girls like it coy, where they reply your questions ambiguously and you are left to decipher what they meant.

Personally I am not one who would beat around the bush. I like to get my facts straight and strong. I do not enjoy playing games and going round in circles. If I like you, I will let you know. If I do not like you, well you will also know that within the first few minutes of meeting. I make no effort to pretend to be what I am not.

And when I deal with men, I expect the same from them. Nothing can be worse than a man who cannot even express his thoughts and desires well. I have no respect for sissies. I make my business decisions like a man and I expect a man to behave like a man. Do not attempt the “one day hot, one day cold” treatment on me. I belong to the category of women who actually will rush into your office, lock you in it, pounce on the table and on you and ask, “Fucking hell, just tell me. You like me or not? Don’t fucking play hide and seek with me.” The one thing I detest in men is indecision. I told you, I like my men strong, sharp and straight to the point.

So when my lawyer asked me how should a man gently let a woman he is dating know that he likes her but is not ready to marry her right that minute, I said that he should just be honest with her. I would have appreciated, “you know, I enjoy your company. I think I like you quite a fair bit, so I would like to see more of you. We can go out and discover if we are compatible. What do you think?”

Most likely my answer is a “Hell yeah! I am not interested in getting married too!” if I quite fancy the man as a lover.

Honestly I do not think girls should murder a man for wanting to date but not ready to commit. I will freak out if a man I date plans our wedding three months into dating each other. I will seriously freak out.

Instead of feeling offended, I will take it as a compliment because the man is comfortable enough to be honest with me. At the end of the day, I want honest communication in my relationship, not one that is based on pseudo reality.

However the world is not perfect and not all girls enjoy an honest answer. How do you tell a girl that you quite like her but not enough to marry her this instant and not get butchered in the process? I am a girl and I haven’t got a clue. Do you?




A Burst Tire
My tire felt bumpy on the way back home. I stopped my car by the side of the car amidst heavy rush hour traffic. I walked around the car, observing each tire and they looked normal enough although I knew a bumpy journey home on a non-bumpy road was not. I held onto my steering wheel a little tighter, as I had the uncanny habit of driving like Bob Marley on high at neck breaking speed.

A little bit more, so we can do this, I thought to myself. Now there would not be a story if I got back with all four tires intact, now would we? 200 meters and the right hind tire burst into a hardly audible “poof!”. Cars drove pass, drivers pointing at my flat tire. Ya lah, ya lah, I thought to myself. I signalled to the left and parked it by the roadside. Took out my mobile to contact my father but decided at the very last minute to just drive back home. Slowly. My father would have asked me to drive home anyway, so I did.

My father changed the tire while I was checking my sitemeter statistics last evening. An email popped into my mailbox and I laughed when I saw the photos my Swedish Love sent me. He looked gorgeous, more good looking than the day when I kissed him good bye in Stockholm Airport four years ago. His second photo tickled my funny bones. “Here is a photo of me semi-nude, in return for your bikini photos,” he wrote.

And there was the photo of him standing with flexed arms, showing off his toned abdomen and beautiful face. He wore a pair of his usual white cotton boxers and in a way, he could rival a Calvin Klein underwear model. I smiled.

“Look babs, Henrik sent me a series of “look what you are missing” photos” I wrote to Alex, then describing how gorgeous my ex boyfriend looks at 33 years old. I hate to think how Swedish Love will look when he is 60 because he would be too good for his age. Damn, look what I am missing.

“Is your ex-boyfriend still pining for you after all these years? Or did you send some “look what you are missing” photos before his? He must be a really tidy person to stay in a 54sqm apartment. Your clothes and shoes would have driven him to break up with you the following summer.” Alex wrote back.

Swedish Love has a new love now. She is tall and blonde. They share a cat and live in the apartment that was meant for me. Sometimes I do think what would have happened if I did not meet Alex and continued living with Swedish Love. I imagined I would have been happy residing in Stockholm with him, having fabulous breakfasts in the mornings and picnics in the summers. Maybe I would have had a child by now. Who knows?

I showed my father the series of photos. We sat down at my writing table and stared at Swedish Love’s photos. “You know what a perfect man would be?” I asked my dad. “It would be Alex in personality and emotions and Henrik’s body,” I said then gave a long sigh. My father nodded quietly.

Coincidentally Swedish Love was with me the last time I had a burst tire. Ironic and foretelling?





The L Word
R and I have been going out quite regularly these days. Perhaps we both feel lonely and each other’s company was welcomed. I have been helping him in the pass two weeks, to finish the collection of 1600 t-shirts for a Polo club. Am still waiting for the day when my eyes are not too swollen to ogled at the Polo players riding their studs hard. Therefore it came as no surprise that R and I sms-ed each other a few times a day these days.

Here is a short transcript of our sms conversation

• Otto: When are you free? I am bored here lah.


• R: Hey, you like the rich people arr. Treat me as entertainment. Ha ha!


• Otto: Who is treating who as entertainment? I love you as my friend and you take me for granted. You think I am terrible, horrible blah blah blah, which is NOT TRUE. If I so bad, why are you still talking to me?


• R: You are such a cutie. That’s why I love you.


• Otto: Eh I am sulking ok.


• R: Sulking, huh? Tell me earlier. Force me to use the L word. Just as long as you are happy, I am happy.

It is quite difficult to squeeze the L word out of men. Alex hardly says that he loves me. Ever. Even after all these years, he would muster a “I am quite fond of you” or “I like you lah.” Somehow men and the L word are not compatible. Men are just so apprehensive when using the L word. Why ha?!

However men must realise that us womenfolk are a tender bunch and we like to hear the L word every now and then. Especially on hormonally charged days, such as last evening when Alex was so far away, BestGuyFriend is with Nikki (no more entertaining me) and R was busy delivering t-shirts and uniforms to hotels, hospitals, offices and banks. Leaving poor Little Miss Otto, unloved.

Now for the girls: Here is a little tip. Never ask a man for the L word when you are about to have sex. Do not ever equate L to sex because men will do and say anything for sex. Including uttering the L word. Actually even a dinosaur will say he loves you, if you offer to drop your skirt and bend over. But if you do want the quantity of the L word and not too bothered for the quality, then ask him if he loves you just moments after you flash a little flesh. Ask him three times more before you let him take a peek in your skirt and a few more for good measure when he is trying to tear the blouse off you.

Okay time for me to go and fish for some L words. This time from Alex. He should be accessing his mailbox anytime now. Bye people!




Tags coffee lawyer starbucks date legal+advice police raids club pub relationship business+decisions tire flat+tire nude semi+nude boxers model Calvin+Klein gorgeous Stockholm Sweden love swedish rich entertain entertainment sex flesh

Great Friendships
Sorry for the utter silence in the last few days. Things were going at a maddening speed and then came Ain, a very good friend of mine from Indonesia. I love her to bits. Ain is the most amazingly giving person I have had the opportunity to meet, extremely warm and fun to be with.

Our friendship goes back a long way to a time and place when she was still a college student taking an IT course. We ate, slept and played, often spending days next to each other without ever feeling bored. Consisting mostly of meal times together and a generous 15 minute walk after each meal, we spent lots of evenings chatting and sharing our daily stories and worries. Ain eventually left for Jakarta, found a job and started working. Then our conversations became shorter and shorter because we were just so busy with daily stuff.

Sometimes on more melancholic days, I find myself in despair. When I think back, I have come to realise that Ain was a rare treasure. Although she is one of my newest friends (approximately 3 years), Ain has proven herself a fierce and loyal friend, who was always around to support and help me through some tough patches. She always wanted the best for me and gave her very best to me. All my older friends paled by comparison. I felt helpless that I did not love her more and gave more of myself to her in return for her friendship.

I remember the time when my favourite cat, Coco died. Ain was there as Coco drew her last breath. I hugged Coco tightly in my arms and wailed so badly that I choked on my words. Ain panicked, took Coco and placed her on the table. Coco’s newborn kittens were mewing for milk in the tiny box. Ain lifted Coco’s mouth and gave my favourite cat CPR, in a bid to probably revive Coco. I was so shaken by the whole incident, clung onto my cat and cried for what felt like hours.

As the evening call to prayer resounded across the yellow tint sky, Ain dug a hole and asked me to give Coco to her. Ain and the two maids helped bury Coco. R came over and together they fed and patted me to sleep that night. Ain took care of the kittens that first night. To those unfamiliar with caring for cats and kittens, newborn kittens needed feeding every hour, burped and had their little bottoms stimulated by a warm towel, so their bowels moved. All Ain did all of those things for me.

I asked myself time and again, why had I not realize all this much earlier? Why did I not see Ain’s sincerity years ago? Why is it that I had to be disappointed by treacherous and unrequited friendships, in order to find and appreciate a jewel friendship like Ain’s?

I vowed to repay her kindness with kindness and that was how I offered my loyalty to Ain. It was her goodness of heart that won me over. Just like how Alex is with my heart, it was Ain who loved me as a friend first.

Sometimes friendships such as Ain’s are Life’s gift to us - to teach us to be better people. These are the rare friendships that bless and enrich our lives with lessons of love and relationships. I learnt to be a better person by being Ain’s friend. This is a humbling experience and I guess, a great friend like Ain will add character to your soul.




Eating
We were out on a mission to eat the town poor. Since knowing that Ain was coming for a visit, I have been listing what we would do and where we would go. Dim Sum was top priority and so determined in my heart that we be up and having sticky rice and scrumptious dim sum at 8:00 a.m. that I announced that we would be there for breakfast on Saturday morning and that my body clock will wake me up in time for it.

True enough on Saturday morning, I got up and looked at the clock. It read quarter to 8 a.m. Felt victorious and so said, “See! I said I’d wake up before 8 and I did!”. I then got out of bed, walked to the bathroom to relieve myself, hopped back into bed and slept. Only to wake up two hours later. We missed dim sum! That taught me never to brag again.

After stuffing ourselves the whole of Saturday like greedy Hansel and Gretel at the witche's cottage and watching Tom Cruise four seats from the front, we could not walk a step without feeling our bellies getting fatter by the minute. We only managed to squeeze dinner at half pass 9 p.m. Due to bad planning and miscommunication, Nikki and BGF did not make it for the after-drinks. But hey, Ain and I from boogie the night away in Lola.

“I don’t know how everyone seems to have eagle eye vision and spots one single person in a crowd of few hundreds,” I whispered into Ain’s ears as we walked towards the bar. Seconds earlier, D shouted my name and said, “Hi”. I walked pass him without even noticing the tall bloke in his casual white shirt and jeans combination. Everyone else seems to be able to notice and call out for their friends. I am just like a blind bat! I do not seem to observe well enough. I do not even see friends who flashed their car lights on the opposite direction. Argh!

Things have changed since I shouted at him on New Year’s. What can I say? He chose the wrong person to defend and in anger, I asked him to leave me alone. While he was at it, he could help me by asking everyone else to leave me alone too and give me a measure of peace during this few months that I am in Malaysia. “I’ll fly back to London in a few months after my visa’s done,” I said between sobs on the first day of 2006.




A Quickie
”I met AB,” R announced last night when I returned his phone call at 2:00 a.m. Ain and I decided on an early exit and cut the Saturday night session short. We were hell bent on dim sum on Sunday morning 8:00 a.m. I frowned when I heard R recount his chat with AB. You see, I have not thought about AB for months and that is a good thing. I need the break. I cannot spend my days and nights thinking about a person, whom I imagine is thinking of his girlfriend and not me (which is fair since they are a couple and I am probaly the 3rd or maybe the 4th or 5th party).

“Bring my bottle of vodka to me,” R said, “and I will tell you what AB said about you.”

One thing about R when he is on an upper is, he tends to talk shit. The other thing about R when he is on an upper is, he always asked me to buy him a pack of Malboro or bring some vodka over or both.

“How many did you pop tonight?” I asked. R said he did not pop but had some joints with AB. I had even weirder nights with R, so a few joints was relatively mild. I did promise him a bottle of Absolut anyway, so I changed, washed up and drove the 2 minute drive to his house.

Vodka, R’s beagle is the most fascinating and lovable dog! R got him to sit, heel, roll over and lie down and I was basically clapping my hands at Vodka’s smart tricks. R even managed to train the dog to wait. Imagine the beagle wagging his brown tail, in anticipation of fetching the soft toy back to his master and just waiting for R to say, “Go!”. At the word “go”, Vodka zoomed down the hallway, screeched at the corner, grabbed the toy and zoomed back to R’s side, dropped the soft toy, sat and waited for the new instruction.

Bad news is Vodka still humped mine. Good news is Vodka humped Ain’s legs too. And the pillows on the sofa.

“No, stop it!” R said each time Vodka tried to mount Ain’s legs to hump.

“Yes, do it!” R said as Vodka hugged my legs and got on with his humping action. I tried my very best ordering the beagle with a firm “no” each time the beagle came over to my side but once I was so annoyed, I unconsciously smacked the dog. I felt so sorry the moment the dog ran back towards his master, who then gave him a reassuring pat. Yes, yes, I was the wicked witch of the East in the dog’s eyes.

”You know what the Good Editor said?” I said to R as Vodka, the horny humping beagle humped my leg. “Dogs are mirroring their masters’ desires.” I rolled my eyes as R laughed, exhaling some smoke.

“Yeah, baby. Vodka, do it one more time!” R said and the dog went on frantically humping my leg. And when he was not humping my leg, he was humping Ain’s or the sofa legs or some plush pillows next to Ain.

“You need a fuck quick, brother,” I said as the three of us looked at the dog who went on and on and on on and on. “And that dog of yours needs neutering.”




No
Did not make it for dim sum at 8:00 a.m. again. Not too surprising since we all slept after 3 a.m. My body clock went haywire since Ain’s arrival. We have been chatting and exchanging stories since the spare bed was lined next to mine on Friday. I was the first to be up at half 9 and woke Ain and R up. Dim sum at 10:00 a.m. was fucked up as the service was slow and Uncle, Aunty and Miss Dim Sum were already stressed up to their necks, serving tables after tables of hungry and demanding patrons since 6 a.m.

Had two more drinks elsewhere as I could not take the harsh weather in the afternoon. Long hair is fantastic in cold weather as one can use it as a scarf. In hot and humid climate such as Malaysia’s, one feel like dying walking under the hot sun.

R was a sweetheart and took over my car. We took a drive to China Town. Ain got some herbs from a medicine hall while I bought some crystals to string. I promised PY that I would make her a soft crystal beaded hairband, similar to the one she bought from Evita Peroni at RM120. Mine costs less than RM20. So smug about it. Wait till I show it to PY!!!!

Ain was dropped off at the bus station at half pass 2 p.m. Love, hugs and kisses all around at the busy road and Ain disappeared into the crowds of people. R wanted to purchase something for his grandmother and asked me to accompany him. With nothing much left to do, I agreed. He drove pass One Utama and I freaked out. “You missed the turning!” R decided that he wanted to have a second round of lunch.

“Do you want to meet AB?” R asked as we continued driving to the coffee shop. Come to think about it, we must have sat in the bloody car for more than two hours today, with all the driving we did.

I mumbled something that I cannot recall now.

“Do you want to see AB?” he asked again.

“Up to you,” I said nonchalantly. To be perfectly honest, I do not know whether I want to see AB. Obviously my whole body would scream an orgasmic “yes please!” but I have cured myself of the AB disease and do not want to dwell on pass memories ever again.


***
“No, nothing,” I said. I recalled a conversation I had with AB the last time I met him in the hotel room earlier this year.

We checked into a hotel that was popular for its "check in at midnight" special promotions. Most couples snuck in and snuck out, through the front and back doors. Most do not make eye contact. Some walked ahead of the other partner. Some were too drunk to walk. I imagined everyone shagging in every room, except the one where AB and I were in. We laid in bed, snuggled, chatted, laughed, kissed and cried. We hid, played, tickled, explored and seduced. I have sat on him and he on me. We have whispered secrets that never left the room. We did everything and we did nothing.

“Come on, ask. I know you want to ask me something,” AB said.

“Nothing." I said. I stared into the ceiling. The usual smoke whiffed gently upwards and disappeared into the white ceiling.

“You want to ask me if I love you,” AB said. He moved and laid on his side, his right arm folded under his head. His eyes were intently sat on me.

I moved and laid on my side, with my back facing him. I bent my knees and curled into a little ball. I closed my eyes. "Up to you."

“I love you,” he said.

I could see smoke rising and disappearing into the ceiling. AB smoked since he was in high school and I never smoked a day in my life. In a world that is so different, why did I yearn that we were the same?


***
“Do you want to see AB?” R asked again. I smiled at him. By then, we were sitting at the tiny coffee shop. Less than 10 metres away, was AB's house and somewhere in it, I imagined AB would be in a room shagging with his girlfriend.

"Do you want to talk to AB?" R asked.

“No,” came my reply.





***
Small Talk
The scene where the key character hugged the dead dog by the road in the "Fix You" chapter drew its emotions and inspiration from the lost I felt when Coco died.
***




Tags blog blogging friendship amazing cat cats death CPR treachery loyal loyalty love kindness giving give experience life dim+sum Tom+Cruise Mission+Impossible Saturday New+Year 2006 Vodka dog hump humping smoke smoking sweetheart I+love+you