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. Alex 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. Otto *** 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. *** Related Links
Labels: Alex, HighSchoolSweetheart, love, SwedishLove |
Monday, October 09, 2006
The Only Things You Learn Are The Things You Tame
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. 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. 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?” *** Related Links
Labels: AB, Alex, HighSchoolSweetheart, relationship |
Monday, September 18, 2006
Man Of Mystery
| I am quite sure that this problem of mine is not that uncommon. As a matter of fact, I am quite certain that many of us face this question and therein, all the potential problems that it ensues. When you break up with your partner, do you keep in contact or not? Being the adult that we all try to be, I guess the answer is we do try our best to remain civil and cordial towards our boyfriends and girlfriends, even when they have become exes. This is especially true in cases where the break up was mutual. Or in my case, the break ups were due to external factors such as distance and personality change. I am a romantic at heart. You begin to realise that it sucks growing up because you become aware of the fact that romance and reality often clash louder than cymbals in an orchestra. I fell in love with a boy who was a year older than me when I was 16. I met him in our local church one fine Sunday and we became friends. Although we never spoke of our love for each other, it was nonetheless always there. It was strange, when you really think about it. How can you love someone when you never said you love him? How can you long for someone when you never told her that you cared? When you are 16 and in love, nothing on earth matters. Then everything was beautiful and every emotion was heightened. We were separated the following year when he was away to study in Bangor, Wales. I remember so clearly of nights when he telephoned me from London and all I could hear was the Tube trains chugging underground. We only spoke of our love for each other after his graduation. Naturally there were many nights spent talking and letting each other know what we have kept secret for years. Those were very special moments for both of us as we explored each other’s personalities. Strangely caught between carnal needs and a close tie to the church, we often found ourselves so drawn to each other and yet guilty for wanting to taste each other's tongues. My parents always knew of his existence. They were however unimpressed by his credibilities. What did I tell you about growing old? You just grow weary of people and so that was what they did. My mother, for one, found the fact that he was a Kadazan and originated from a village in Sabah rather difficult to accept. She was also not impressed by the fact that he was a fresh graduate with no experience nor money. “Just look at yourself. Will you be able to stay in the village with him? Farm and rear five chickens?” she told me whenever the topic of HighSchoolSweetheart cropped up. You see, in my family we have a cousin who married a Kadazan. She stays in the village with her husband, who is an engineer. They have farmlands where the chickens and ducks roamed. She plants paddy during the day and does housework in the evenings. Knowing how much I enjoy dressing up, dining out and clubbing, My mother felt that I would never survive a slow paced village lifestyle. My relationship problem with HighSchoolSweetheart was resolved when he eventually left me to be with his sister. He returned to KL after he helped his sister adjust to motherhood, found a job and sought to rekindle our relationship. By then, it was too late. There were many other suitors and Alan had been my rock for a few months prior to HighSchoolSweetheart’s arrival back in my life. That is the strange thing about him and I – I always knew he would be around and close to me, even when we were apart. From the moment I laid my eyes on him, my instinct told me that we would be together. It was such strong feelings that I felt that even if fate tore us apart, we would be together in the end because that was our destiny. There are just some things that time cannot heal. For example, a lover’s bruised ego. I think deep down in his heart, he has always been angered by my parents’ rejection. And perhaps to a certain extend, he was also frustrated by the way I carried on with my life, travelling and having a good time with my friends and my string of boyfriends as the years rolled by. It was as if I did not stop to ponder about what we were supposed to be – a pair of doves sitting on a tree. I felt lost when he told me that he wished to return to Sabah a month ago. Perhaps this time it was I who took him for granted; that as easily as he was always there for me, he was also easily gone and inaccessible. I was actually quite worried when I came to realise that perhaps I have lost him forever and this time around even Destiny could not help me. *** I received crazy text messages from an unknown person over the past week in Bath and York. I was quite worried and shared this worry with Nic, who offered to call the person to ask who he was. Clearly it was a man because he called himself “a man of mystery”. I am not too fond of men of mysteries because they often signalled some crazy stalker just pop out of the mental hospital. So I chose the best mode of response towards such text messages. I did not respond. Either that, or I would threaten to contact the police because such text messages made me feel very vulnerable and unsafe. This man of mystery then texted me some private details about myself (my date of birth, favourite clothes, food, books etc). This is not happening in London, I thought to myself. I used to receive pervert text messages and sick calls every now and then in Malaysia but it has never happened in London. One of my worst nightmares was releasing itself in London and it sent chills down my spine. “You still trying to guess who I am? What lah you!” said one of the messages while I was in the York Minster. I knew it was therefore a Malaysian, not some prankster from the UK. I kept silent still. “Come on. Why u so sombong? (trans: snobbish)” read the next. It was then I realised who it was. There was only one person who could rilled me up like that. “HighSchoolSweetheart, I am going to bloody kill you when I meet you. You know how I hate when men play the “guess who?” game.” I could almost hear him laugh all the way from Milan. Yes, using my ultra tracing skills, I tracked the phone number to a mobile in Milan but I did not know who the owner was. And there, amongst the stained glass and probably under a statue Mother Mary and Jesus, I realised it was HighSchoolSweetheart with his trademark sweet torments. Just ways to agitate, confuse and frustrate me because according to him, “you look so cute when you are angry,”. He was job hunted and sent to work in Milan for the next two years, on an extremely good salary taxfree. Think of it as the ability to purchase a low cost house every month type of salary. I had an inkling of this happening when he told me that he wanted to move back to Sabah. How did I know? I felt fishy when HighSchoolSweetheart began questioning me how much Alex earned and how much money did he save each month. It had a vibe that said: You know what? I could have provided more for you if you were with me, instead of Alex. What can he offer you, I can offer more… *** Dear Otto’s mum, Hello again, Mrs. Nude. I am sure you would remember me because I was your daughter’s first love. You used to look down on me, saying that I could not afford to keep your daughter. I am pleased to inform you that I am now a somebody. It has been three weeks since I arrived in Milan for work. My feet are lined with fashionable leather Italian loafers and on Sundays I find myself walking along Milano streets, stopping only for a shot of hot espresso. I just bought myself a new watch, which compliments the colour of my new apartment that looks across the prettiest skylines. Sometimes when I sit under the shade of an umbrella, I think to myself how life would have been different if you did not say the things you said. Would your daughter continue to love me? Would she be sitting here with me? Would I have worked hard to prove to everyone around me that I am worth something? That my colour and my ethnic were never hindrances to me? I had nothing when I first met you but now I have found myself. I wish I could look you straight in the eye and tell you, "Yes aunty, I could have taken good care of your daughter. I would have loved her with all my heart and I would have bled for her. What I lacked in material possessions ten years ago, I made up with good intentions and heart's desires. And now I have found the materials but I have lost your daughter." Life is a cruel teacher and sometimes it teaches us in the most unassuming ways. Thank you for your lesson and maybe one day, we will all find a path to salvation; that I would find my peace, that your daughter would find hers and you, yours. Until then, I shall sit here under an umbrella sipping on espresso and you will remain in your tiny home with the fenced up garden. How time has changed. Sincerely, Your daughter’s first love *** Related Posts Labels: HighSchoolSweetheart, life, relationship |
Friday, August 11, 2006
I am sorry
Here are the statistics. I have had several long-term relationships with a few men. There is HighSchoolSweetheart, someone that I loved when I was 16. The relationship was a combination of obligation to God (we were church going) and pure innocence. I took a look at him walking into my life and I had gut instincts that he would be with me forever. The feeling is weird. How do you describe looking at an angel and feeling that you belong together? And even when time and place tears the both of you apart, you will still be together in spirit. It is the feeling that there is this person on earth that will think of you and will love you. You will never be alone on earth because there is a connection to this person. You will never be alone because your souls are tied together and destiny will always bring you back together, like frothy waves along the beach on a summer's day. You know when you are much younger, you do not have as much mobility as you do when you are older. When I was young, I was governed by the choices of colleges that I needed to go and he was governed by his career options. HighSchoolSweetheart and I were worlds apart, in a time when the internet was still scarce and email was unheard of. We burnt holes in pockets, calling each other and loving each other while our physical bodies were continents apart. When we had better control over our futures and I was studying for my Masters, we found ourselves away from home and away from everything else. It was just the two of us, sitting in the bathtub, drinking wine and being ourselves. He just returned from the UK with a bachelor degree and was basically bumming around until he had to go home to Tamparuli, to visit his family. Life was simple and fun for the first few months when we were together. Then reality struck and he flew back to Sabah to be with his family. His sister was pregnant with a drummer's baby. The decision to keep and raise the baby without a husband was a rather difficult feat to achieve when one is surrounded by village folks and Christians. He chose to stay back with her and to help her through that period. It was something that I absolutely understand. He wrote me a long letter, a letter that is still with me. Sometimes I read it and a sense of despair fills my heart. I spent my teenage years sitting at the foot of my bed, crying and asking him to come back to me. How stupid, if you really think about it. He was in the UK at the time and he would not have listened, no matter how hard I cried. He did come back. He did come back. He will always come back, you see. I might not know when he would turn up at my door but I know he would turn up in my life again and again and again. The bond is so strong, I knew we would continue to remember each other as we walked this earth. Two years had passed when he joined a huge group of my friends, celebrating my graduation. He lost himself and his voice somewhere between all the bouquet of flowers and soft toys. Graduation could well be one of the best moments in my life. I was well loved by everyone. Looking at photos from that day, I can still see my father’s eyes gleaming with pride. I had so many flower bouquets that my friends had to help me carry them. And in the middle of it all, stood HighSchoolSweetheart with a secret. Alan took a long walk while HighSchoolSweetheart told me that he promised that he would not walk away from me this time. By then I was already at a point when I could not deny how good Alan was to me and how much I appreciated Alan’s friendship. On that day HighSchoolSweetheart returned the gold chain I gave him when we were lying naked together in bed, a long time ago. “You have changed,” he said. “I know,” I said with a smile. I looked into his eyes. “I am no longer innocent,” He saw me with Alan. Then he saw me with Henrik and now he is seeing me with Alex. It has been a long journey. We have been friends and lovers and friends again for almost half our lives. We talked through Yahoo! Chat often and then some times we needed space. We are both firstborn and equally as strong willed. Perhaps that’s how we survived through the years – through sheer persistence to track each other down. HighSchoolSweetheart told me a few days ago that he was returning to Tamparuli. He is tired of city life and he can’t seem to score that chick he has been dreaming of. I nagged him. We are like an old couple sometimes. I nagged him that he did not try hard enough, that he had too high expectations of women these days. He basically wanted to marry a pristine virginal girl, like a pastor’s daughter, who is able to get down and dirty feeding free range chicken in the kampung (trans: village). Everyone knows that it is an extinct breed in KL. It is upsetting. Maybe that is why he is doing this. He is doing it because he knew it would upset me. He is going back to his village, to be with his people. He said he wanted to grow a rice field and perhaps some maize. Find himself a simple church going girl and just breed like rabbits. “Tough luck when you never had sex,” I typed into the Yahoo! Chat when he made the announcement. It felt so sudden. I mean, I do not even have the time to give him a good-bye hug since it is my turn to be in the UK while he remains in Malaysia. Now he is going to get himself lost somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where internet connections are poor and mobile lines belong to just a few in the village. I will not be able to talk to him nor ask him how he is. in your attempt to get rid of me, so here’s an early greeting. May God grant you all your heart’s desires.” ~ a text message I sent him last evening. He said he had to run. He cannot see me too often and we shouldn’t speak too frequently. He says it fucks his mind. He said he is doomed to a lifetime of loneliness, filled with his grandma’s nagging for him to “find a nice girl and settle down”. He said I should not be nice to men because it breaks their hearts. He said it was all my fault. Then he asked if he could fly to the UK, kidnap me and tie me to a taugeh (trans: beansprout) tree. I do not know whether to laugh or cry when I read it. I am sitting at the foot of my bed, 14 years on and I feel like crying hard. I am sorry. "And I never meant to cause you trouble And I never never meant to do you wrong Ah, well if I ever caused you trouble Oh no, I never meant to do you harm" ~ Trouble, Coldplay Labels: HighSchoolSweetheart, love |
Friday, June 09, 2006
Of Pre-Marital Sex, A Year and The Best Decision
Argh! Pre-Marital Sex! As I sat in the living room writing I Guess I Could yesterday, I reflected on many different times spent with my boyfriends. Some were so long ago, like with HighSchoolSweetheart and some are nearer and dearer, like Swedish Love. If you notice, I could not write much about how life could have been for me and HighSchoolSweetheart. This was partly due to the fact that I did not stay long enough with him. Staying here means living together, on a day-to-day basis. While I am still in contact with him and we continually debate about religion and logic, I do not know how it would be living with HighSchoolSweetheart. In retrospect, I guess I did not understand myself 5 years ago as much as I do today. Perhaps understanding myself made it possible for me to actually love another person and maintain a healthy relationship with him. I find myself remembering more things about Swedish Love than I do of Alan and more of Alan than of HighSchoolSweetheart. When I was with HighSchoolSweetheart, we were both church going. I was a little more innocent and perhaps even a tad prudish. Since breaking up with him and being with Alan, I have changed and began to understand myself a whole lot better. I was active in charity work since Alan was the president of the Rotaract Club around our area.  That's how tall the pom pom in my garden is. I began to socialise more. I moved out of the church circle and began spending time with Alan’s friends. The bunch of us consisting of approximately 14 single boys and girls were busy having a jolly good time, organizing dinner parties and naughty sauna sessions, where the boys illegally snuck into the female sauna and cramped into the tiny 3 meter by 2 meter room. Eventually when I did break up with Alan, I found myself in a unique position, where Swedish Love was with me for half of the year. We spent the other 6 months apart, him in Stockholm and I in KL. Compounded by the fact that I was supposed to migrate to Sweden, E and I were basically drinking and dancing every Friday and Saturday. Sometimes it extended to Tuesdays and Wednesdays for me, because I kept AB company. We met tonnes of boys, from local boys to travellers to expatriates to the bum outs. Days were exciting and nights were thrilling. E and I travelled a lot during that time too, mostly on our own, for weekend holidays. It was fantastic and I absolutely recommend that every girl do that. It changed my perception of life and perhaps even influenced me to be the person that I am today. When I eventually moved to Stockholm and stayed with Swedish Love, it was also the first time when I really took a break from the church and from family life. I cut my apron strings and led my own life. It took me some years to eventually “grow up” mainly because my parents are highly protective of me (they are teachers!) and I felt intensely dependent on them (despite me hating the dependency).  I think I had my first REAL ADULT relationship with Swedish Love. Not just a boyfriend who visits me for weekends or dinners on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays where his family and my family were involved, but a relationship that was built solid on just Swedish Love and I. Thinking back, I think I learnt a lot from him. He took me everywhere and we were together often. Swedish womenfolk were very independent and that drove me to be highly independent too. I guess what I want to say is, you don’t really know how your love life is going to turn out or how your relationship will be until you live with the person for quite some time. I did that with Swedish Love for a period of 2 years and since then, I have been with Alex for 4 years. I remember a lot about these two men and I know them in and out. I can’t say the same for Alan, even though I ate at his place on alternate evenings. I most certainly cannot describe how life could have been with HighSchoolSweetheart because I did not live with him. Swedish Love and Alex brought a new dimension to my personality and I am greatly in debt to the two men. Most importantly they taught me how to love and how it is like to be in a healthy and normal relationship. The church has a very strong stand against pre-marital sex. Being a Sunday School teacher for more than 3 years, I find it difficult now to reconcile the differences in the church doctrine and my personal stance in this area. In my honest opinion, a couple must live a life together before being married and the experience teaches the couple how it would be like once they sign the dotted line. It is far more practical this way and would spare young people from unrealistic expectations of living together. Of course for my not so Christ-like beliefs, I cannot teach in the Sunday School now – which is why I quit more than 6 years ago. If I had my way, I would preach co-habiting as a subject to young children in Sunday School. Couple that with proper sex education and the responsibility that comes with a regular sex life. I had rows after rows with my father because he was a church elder and he found it difficult to explain to the church members why his daughter is co-habiting with hairy white men (two white men to be precise, ie Swedish Love and Alex). It must have been very difficult for him to come to terms with the fact that I had to do things my way.
Just my way. The way that I am comfortable with. The way that I learnt to grow, mature and love. Perhaps not the best of ways as my parents still wish that I was a virgin. But my way, in a way that allows my heart to feel safe and comfortable. But how can it be so? Didn’t our grandmother teach us that sex before marriage and the idea of co-habiting is detrimental to the womenfolk? I guess there is no clear answer here. It depends on your family culture and values. I did not agree with my family culture, so I have spawned mine. In a heated debate, my father asked me if I would tell my daughter to do the same when she is a grown woman. “Would you allow your daughter to co-habit with another man?” he asked. I think my answer shocked my father into his seat. I said yes. I do not share same perceptions of sex and childhood upbringing ideas as my parents. I can still recall how my father slid back into his chair when I said that I would teach my daughter about sex from young and teach her to how value and cherish herself. I do not believe in getting married and discovering about sex with your life partner. I think it causes more harm than good as the wondering mind will be at work at the seventh year itch. I think it is important to have a few lovers and at least one permanent partner before running down the aisle. This applies for both genders. To me, there is no such thing as “girls will lose out in this co-habiting game”. There is no lost unless you have degraded yourself or sold yourself cheaply. It is no one’s business if you maintained a relationship with a respectable man, who loves you and treats you well. It helps if the man is successful, good looking or intelligent. Naturally the best option is all of the above characteristics. I never felt that I had to answer to my church members or to my neighbours. Not even to my father. This might come as a shocker to many but I honestly believe that a woman’s sexual encounters are private and no one has the right to tell her what to do. It is her body and she has the right to protect and nurture it. So no father talks, no mother talks, no church elders talks. Everyone else can bugger off just as long as I know that I am taking care of my body, I am with a very good man and I am responsible for my actions. What A Difference A Year Make It is June 2006 and last year around this time, Alex and I were away for a flower show in NEC. Both of us helped his parents who owned a nursery somewhere in the south of Scotland. We bought a bulb from a Belgian man, for a gigantic flower I named the “pom pom”.  A bulb, hiding secrets from the earth. Just take a look at what a difference a year makes. That is the bulb in my hand last year before we planted it into the earth. I did not see it until this year last week, when the bulb bloomed into a meter tall plant with a purple pom pom the size of a Big Mac. What have you done in the pass year? Did you grow? Did you learn new things? Are you proud of yourself? Where are you heading? What are your hopes for the next year? Are you truly happy? Are you at your greatest potential? The Best Decision I am excited as Alex and I marched into our 4th year together. This sparks the longest ever relationship I ever had, one that I am most happy to experience. I often stare into empty space, nodding my head after a few seconds and saying, “Yeah, Alex is the best decision I have ever made in my life.” Tags pre-marital sex cohabit love relationship charity+work Rotaract church sauna travellers local expatriate Stockholm Sweden best+friend daughter father parent Madonna Labels: Alex, HighSchoolSweetheart, relationship, SwedishLove |
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Hello, hello. Are You The One?
No Woman, No Cry ~ Bob Marley I guess I could have. Yes, that’s right. I guess I could have. I could have been with Swedish Love. If that was so, I would have had my pretty apartment in Södermalm – painted in pale cream with a high ceiling, antique wooden floor and ceiling to floor windows. We would wake up each morning and he would look at me as I open my eyes. I would smile and tap my foot to Bob’s tunes. Oh yes, Swedish Love and I would break into “No Woman, No Cry” as song number five on the Bob Marley CD plays in the stereo. I would walk from the bedroom to the bathroom in my knickers, deciding what clothes I would wear to work. When I have decided on what I would wear, I would ask Swedish Love if he would like me to iron his work shirt for him and he would say, “It’s ok. Swedish boys iron their shirts. You do not need to do it for me. Thank you.” Swedish Love would run downstairs for some fresh bread and the smell of coffee would saturate the entire apartment. Beams of sunshine would dance along the floor as the soft breeze gently caresses the curtains. There would be roast beef, cucumber and tomato slices, ham and cheese laid on white plates. I love roast beef best. On Friday evenings, we would have Sushi Nights, where close friends come over and we make delicious sushi to eat. Sake and Sushi were über delicious in the company of good friends. On Saturday nights, we would take a cab to Mösebacke, a dance floor with open pub set on top of the hills of the south island in Stockholm. I would have my Vodka Limes and he would have his beers. We would laugh and dance with friends such as Annika and Byörn. And in the summers, the sun rises at 2:00 a.m. and it would be sunrise when we hail a cab to go home again. Every few months, we would take a nice holiday. Perhaps to somewhere warmer, where we could walk around the quiet stretch of beach in our swim wear. Swedish Love would take a photo of me as I walk into the sea for a swim. He would bring me anywhere on earth and we would laugh as we dine together. Yes, I guess I could have. I could have stayed with Alan. I guess if we were together, I would have had a child by now. Maybe even two. His parents would love me and we would return to his hometown on alternate weekends. We would have a pretty cosy home somewhere in USJ, with a nice patch we call our garden. A baby tricycle lined the front lawn. At my insistence, our son would be wearing Adidas sneakers. Who cares about practicality when we can dress our little one in cutesy white sneakers with the famous three stripes? Each morning, we would get dressed. Water would gently cascade down our bodies as Alan and I take a morning shower together. I would let out a scream as I hate early morning showers. We would laugh and play, as the maid prepares little baby for playschool. We would drop the baby at playschool and the maid with my mother. Then Alan and I would drive to our usual breakfast spot, where we greet the regulars there. The leaves would rustle gently and the sun would shine as we sit down for a warm bowl of noodles. My face would light up as my favourite fishball soupy noodles arrive at our table. Alan would tell me some stories and we would chat a little. On weekends, we would go grocery shopping. A stroller with our baby, the maid, Alan and I would find our way to one of the many shopping malls, where we would purchase fresh produce for the following week. We would catch a movie and buy a new nail colour. Twice a year, we would go for a long holiday, preferably to somewhere cold like Russia or New Zealand. Sometimes we would bring his parents along. Sometimes mine. Sometimes we go for a mini honeymoon, just Alan and I, minus the baby and the maid. Ah yes, I guess I could. But yet, here I am sitting in the living room, a bird table no further than 3 meters from me. In the garden, there is a burst of colours as the poppies are blooming. Here I am a struggling writer and a business owner. I spend half my year in the UK when the sun is shining and everything is warmer. I am at a point where I am tired of the travelling. I carried more than 40 kilograms through the airports, consisting of 5 pairs of shoes and sneakers, tonnes of make-up and facial stuff and 40 servings of Miso Soup. I have a thing for Miso Soup and Japanese food, I swear I must have been a Japanese woman in my previous life. Maybe even a Geisha. Alex sleeps after me each night and I wake up before him each morning. Hot water would fill the bathtub as we sit down for 30 minutes of bath each morning without fail. We would chat and talk about things. I would tell him new stories I have brewing in this mind of mine. I would tell him about all my readers and what I am doing on About Nude, Not Naked. Alex would ask about the book. “Complete it by autumn and we’ll send the manuscript to some publishers here in the UK,” Alex would encourage and poke me along the way. When he is at work, I would get ready for my day. I wear nice clothes. Being at home is no excuse to dress shabbily. I would greet our housemate, Ralph (pronounce as “Rayf”) good morning as he takes over the bathroom facilities. I would wear my trademark high heels and saunter downstairs to fix myself a cup of warm hot chocolate. And yes, I would have my fishball noodles here. Alex asked what happens if I start working here and cannot prepare the fishball noodles as breakfast each morning. “I’ll be grumpy,” I reply. I smiled when I wrote the last sentence. You see, I remember Alex preparing a nice breakfast for me last year during the NEC flower show. I am such a breakfast person while Alex cannot eat anything before 11 a.m. While I sit on the sofa, watching the news on BBC and deciding what I would write today, I would reflect on my life and all the lives that I could have lived. I could have had a child and maybe even two. I could have had a pretty house in KL or an apartment looking into the beautiful Stockholm skyline. I could have worn really pretty clothes and travelled to faraway places with Swedish Love. I could have been a person that I am not today and maybe be as happy as I am today. Ah yes, I guess I could. I believed in all my heart that there was THE ONE somewhere out there waiting for me, like all little girls listening and believing in fairytales. I remember sitting with a very close girlfriend of mine when we were 14, wondering where our THE ONEs were. How ironic life turned out to be as I now subscribe to the “there are more than one THE ONE” belief. HighSchoolSweetheart was THE ONE for me for many years. Alan was more than wonderful to me and most certainly made me feel that he was THE ONE. Swedish Love totally changed my perception of life and I am very sure that I would have married him, if I had not met Alex in Perhentian in 2002. THE ONE is a romantic propaganda created by the media and Hollywood. It seems all so romantic and lovely that you wait your whole life for this one perfect person, who would sweep you off your feet and save you from all your heartaches. Like Cinderella or Rapunzel. And for all of us girls who grew up with the princesses in distress and the handsome princes on white horses, we are a little lovelorn for our very own Prince Charming, our THE ONE. Things will turn out fine if you do meet your THE ONE and he turns out to be just like Prince Charming who kissed all of Snow White’s problems away. But what happens the years on by and still no THE ONE in sight? Should you press the panic button when you blow your 28th birthday candles and there is no THE ONE next to you? What happens if THE ONE you thought was THE ONE turns out to be Not So The One? Do you still bite the bullet and swallow everything? Do you give him up? What happens if you give him up and there is no other THE ONE? After all, logically there is only one THE ONE! Good news is, I blew my 30th birthday candles early this year. Even better news is I have had quite a few boys around me for the pass 30 years. Okay, that does not seem to come out the way I want it to. Let me rephrase that. What I meant to say was, I have been friends with enough boys and I have dated enough boys to know that there is more than one THE ONE. Don’t worry if you think you have missed your THE ONE. There are more often than not, more than one THE ONE anyway. The only cause for concern is whether you are willing to let go of the old and allow your heart to accept the new. Each THE ONE is unique and carries a different possibility for your future together. And you in turn, you could have been a thousand different person when you are with different men – a mother, a homemaker, a fulltime worker, a business owner, a lady of leisure, anything that your mind can imagine you to be. Just like there is more than one THE ONE, you have more than one choice in life. The choice is in your hand and you can choose what you want for your future. So yes, I guess I could and indeed I did. I chose Alex, you see. Tags Södermalm Stockholm Sweden Bob+Marley No+Woman+No+Cry sushi vodka+limes vodka beer Adidas holiday geisha japanese fairy+tales girls media Hollywood Labels: Alex, HighSchoolSweetheart, life, love, relationship |
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Of Coffee With My Lawyer, A Burst Tire and The L Word
~ 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
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 Labels: AB, Alex, HighSchoolSweetheart, love, MiniBoyFriend, SwedishLove |
Friday, April 14, 2006
To Hell And Back
When I was very little, I was very well loved. Both my parents were teachers and every afternoon after school, the three children (that's my two brothers and I) and my parents would sit for lunch together. They listened to all the stories we children told them as we ate. We repeated the same tradition come dinner time. Till today, I am moulded by that childhood memory. Mealtimes are always about laughter and friendship, all rolled together and served on hot plates. Although my parents were teachers and we were not from a rich family, we travelled a lot. Come any school holidays and our bags were packed for a trip somewhere. I have been gold mining in Terengganu during a short gold rush in the late 80s. I have been to most islands, lakes, all states (except Sabah) and visited all museums and places of interest. All done during my childhood. Those were the best times, my brothers packed their He-Man and I packed my one and only Barbie Doll, the five of us hopped into the old Nissan and drove for hours with the guide of a map. Unlike my two brothers, my parents sent me for classes that I truly enjoyed and had a talent for (they just tagged along). I had once attended a piano class but i hated reading the notes and saw no reason to do so. I cried and my mother switched me to ballet and I absolutely loved it. I spent more than ten years training as a ballet dancer and a lot of my childhood and teenage life revolved around this ability. I was sent for art classes with many different teachers and learnt many different styles. In my adult life, I used my ability to sketch to document my boyfriends' body parts. I did many drawings, especially during the time when I was with Alan and wondered what has come to them. I cross my fingers Alan has stored them in a safe place or burnt them. Have not held a pencil or brush in such a long time that I forgot all about the years my parents fetched me back and forth from one class to another. I had prepared a gift - a sketch of my hands wide open - for R as a weekend surprise. Just like some men in my life, R had the ability to bring out the best in me. It was when he saw my sketch that he commented that I had a flair for color and art and only then, did scenes of my father fetching me around town popped in my mind. I never doubted people and never feared. There was no reason to. Everything was so safe and everything was true. Childhood was about fishing and playing by the nearby park. My father drove at 6 p.m. every evening when I was young, just to tire me enough to sleep for the night. My mother bought me dolls that none of my friends had and my bedspread was "Mickey Mouse from Singapore" (so said my mother). There is nothing that my parents could have done to make my childhood better than it was. Of course there were quarrels and teengage angst but childhood is filled with trips to the countryside during weekends, special mealtimes, of a father who spent his time with his daughter and songs that my father sang to me as a child. These were the gifts that my parents gave me in my childhood and they made my life sweet. In my 8th year, I attended a picnic that totally altered my life. Organized by the church through its Sunday School ministry, I found once again all my talents being put to use. For more than 10 years, I danced on stage for parents and children alike. Good Friday, Easter, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Children's Day, Valentine's, Christmas and whatever occasion, you will see me up there with my ballet slippers and hair all bunned up, sequin skirts and a leotard. My photo albums are filled with photos of children smiling and I would be in the center of it all (naturally since my father took photos of me - duh!). And when I entered my teenage years, I taught others to dance and everyone performed in the church and in public. My whole social life was spent in the church. All parties I had attended were organized by the church. I never attended any parties that were threw by my friends. I never slept over at any of my friends' homes, not even E's or PY's. I never listen to pop songs sung in the 80s or 90s. I listen to gospel songs. I went to church. Everything was centered on God and on church. In my local church area, I was always in the limelight because I danced everywhere and children were sent for ballet lessons, so that they could dance like me. Till today, I meet up with old friends from those times during weekends but it was never in church. I meet them while buying a drink at the bar. Something happened when I was 19. Something that absolutely changed my world and what I understood about it. Someone came and took away everything I believed in and everything that I lived and breathed for. Those were the years I felt like a walking dead. I drowned in my own tears and I fought to breathe each morning. I slept with a pair of scissors and I knew what was pain. While my peers were studying and partying during weekends, I was working, taking on responsibilities that were far too heavy for my shoulders, sucking in all the pain, dulling my senses so I could never feel again. Rotten relationships have that ability to make you feel dead. I did not see flashing lights, loud "ungodly" music nor did I take a sip of alcohol until I turned 21. I asked my father to accompany me to visit some pubs in Bangsar because I was curious and my father took me around. He walked me through the streets and I observed what was happening in all these "ungodly" places. Everything felt so different and so raw. Some months later I was away from home doing my Masters degree. It was in The Roof (which is now defunct) when I took my first drink, a Screwdriver. Followed by a Frozen Magharita with my best uni mate, Catherine. I then realised that with all the love and good intentions my parents had for me, they had spun a very small and protective cocoon around me. I did not know how to ride a bus or even hail for a cab when I was 20! Thus began my journey, one that I insisted on taking and one that I took alone. I did not have a childhood like you and so I am not like any ordinary person. Perhaps that is why I do not feel the same things like you do, my readers. Simple tasks such as driving to the petrol kiosk to put in petrol and taking a bus from town to home became exercises of independence. I insisted on doing many things on my life and refused to have anyone accompany me. Perhaps that was a mistake and I had made some. Then again, these mistakes taught me about life as they acted as a springboard for comparison. I possessed childlike qualities that people were not used to seeing in an adult. BGF smiles whenever I make a comment that he finds childlike and he cannot believe that I am 30. I think people who met me in real life did not know how to react to my childlikeness. It was also during this time that I met a Hungarian friend who witnessed my life, from my old to my new and it is him who gave me The Little Prince. The Little Prince gave me so much comfort because I could see myself in him. I was also on a journey too when I first met my Hungarian friend, just like the Little Prince. The reasons for our adventures were the same but I hope that I would not vanish like him one day. It was AB who taught me to dance. Or maybe it was with AB that I felt free to dance in a sea of people. If I was a child dancer in the church, I became a dancer in another stage; the DJ console and the dance floor in my early 20s. The feeling of dancing with AB was so electrifying, it remains within me till today and I can still feel his hands tracing mine. He, who is the total opposite of me, breathed life back into my body while we kissed behind the trees and buildings. I had Alan and Swedish Love, of course. Each man taught me different things in life and the only reason why I gave up each of them was because I needed to be free to explore and to journey more. With Alan, I learnt social things, I did my stint with Clairol and stayed away from home a lot (because I was hanging in his house too often!). With my Swedish Love, I travelled to Europe and laid my eyes on the Parthenon, the Vasa, the Sex Museum and walked through streets in the cold windy months and ate ice cream in the sun. He opened my eyes to a lot of things and made me realise that there is more to life than what I had here in Malaysia. And suggested that perhaps, I should reside in Europe if I found Malaysia too regimented. That was how I got my Swedish PR. So when I was a child, I wore dresses sew by my mother's seamtress. When everyone were decked in their Nikes and Levis in the 90s, I was still wearing dresses (of a larger size, of course) and danced in church. And when everyone was wearing sneakers to attend their university classes, I wore suits and high heels to work. And when everyone wore work attire, I put on my dancing shoes and went drinking and dancing instead. You see, I have been everything. I have REALLY seen some things that women are not supposed to see. My eyes had witness love and betrayal. My ears kept secrets and my heart saw truths from lies. I have been good. I was rensponsible. I went to church. I have danced for God and I have danced for me. I went to work. I met men and women. I was propositioned by rich old men and young punks, a few lesbians and butches, one who was really good looking. I have attended a few grand parties and rubbed shoulders with business men, when I was still a child. I had been stalked, loved and obsessed. Equally I have been hated, despised and cursed. I laughed at myself and cried myself to sleep. I brought life to some men and was a muse to some. I have never took the hand of a preacher man and made love in the sun but emotionally I have shared with AB, a life that I feel could have been forever. I have been taught what is the meaning of true love and as karma goes, I have taught others. I have walked with God and did the tango with the Devil. I have had my heartbroken and my spirit died. Now I wind down my window and smile when I feel the breeze through my fingers. I have risen from the ashes of death. You see, I have been to hell and back. And I have been to Paradise. And now with Alex, I have been to ME. Tags childhood holiday parthenon vasa museet sex museum happiness paradise relationship growing up adult life Labels: AB, Alex, HighSchoolSweetheart, life, love, MiniBoyFriend, relationship, SwedishLove |
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Stale Sperms, Rotten Eggs and Nude, Not Naked's Sex Survey
I chatted on Yahoo! Messenger with my high school sweetheart two nights ago. In many ways, he is my best friend and yet, there are times that he absolutely drives me insane. High school lovers, in an age where everything was sweet and innocent. These days we talk and meet up whenever possible, often with me promising NOT to meet him again for a long time. One of the best things I loved about him was his intelligence (yes, I am a sucker for intelligent men) and his knowledge of a lot of things. Intelligent conversations are sexy, words get me off and so naturally I am very attracted to smart men (smart, not "sweet" like Mark). This ultimately became our relationship's downfall. Perhaps we are both very strong willed (as first child often are) and we refuse to compromise on our stands and beliefs. We get into really heated arguements NOT ABOUT OUR RELATIONSHIP but about trivial things that seemed to matter then, such as gravity, logic, The Da Vinci Code and especially church stuff. Ever played The Sims? If you did, then you notice that when your Sims interacting, you get plus signs and other times, negative signs. Right? Well imagine me getting all negative signs when high school sweetheart and I start talking about stuff! He was my back up. I think it was in year 2000 when I was with Alan that high school sweetheart came back into my life (after our 2nd break up). Alan and I got along very well and I was very loved, so it was quite obvious that I did not want to pursue a relationship with high school sweetheart for the third time. I felt that I had outgrown him, just like I had outgrown some of my old friends, Barbie dolls and some tea party sets. I made him my back up plan. Spare tyre, if you wish to call him that. I told him that if we were both not married the time I turned 28, we would then marry. Quite an abvious choice and rather logical. If a woman can't find a man she can love enough to marry and have kids with, why not marry and have kids with your longest friend? Made sense to me when I was 26 years olds and to a certain extend, it still makes sense to me now. Imagine me teasing him just as I approached my 28th birthday, telling him to get ready to be married. I freaked the poor boy out! *hahaha* "We are going to get married and live happily ever after. Aren't you excited?" I kept emphasizing the point that he promised to be my back up plan. *** Below is a snippet of our egg, sperm, relationship and procreation conversation. Translation is in blue, for native English readers. Otto: Aisay… (Sigh) Otto: Why tak kawin? (Why not married?) Otto: Don't so choosy!! (Don’t be choosy in your choice) Otto: Nasib baik you are a man. (Good thing that you are a man) Otto: Your sperm not lapuk. (Your sperm does not go stale) High school sweetheart: Huh ? (Disbelief) High school sweetheart: Got such thing ? (Is there such a thing?) Otto: Of course lah (Of course!) Otto: Women above 40s tend to have slow kids. High school sweetheart: When become lapuk ? (When does my sperm become stale?) Otto: Sperm not lapuk because produce fresh. (Sperm do not go stale because they are produced fresh) Otto: Eggs are created from birth. Otto: So my eggs dah 30 yrs old. (So my eggs are 30 yrs old) High school sweetheart: yakss telur busuk (Yucks, smelly egg!) High school sweetheart: You ladies are dirty! Otto: Imagine your mother's lah (Imagine your mother’s!) High school sweetheart: So start using them lah. (So why don’t you start using them eggs?) Otto: Suck them out and keep in bank. High school sweetheart: U did that? (You sucked them out?) Otto: No lah! (No!) Otto: Wah come to think of it, thank goodness I have Alex. (Come to think of it, thank goodness I have Alex) Otto: or else I need to pinjam your sperm (Or else I would need to loan some of your sperm) High school sweetheart: Shit!!!! High school sweetheart: Give u for what? (Why should I give you?) High school sweetheart: Must earn it lah (You must earn it) Otto: Rubbish!!! *** Here are some valid questions that might bug you. I know it bugged me. I know it bugged Suanie and FA. We live in a very hectic and hurried world. Family concepts are also fast evolving, adjusting itself to the quick pace lifestyle we experience, especially in the bigger cities. Our mothers and grand mothers married and had kids without blinking their eyes. Pursuing an education and subsequently a career has altered women and their perception of relationships and parenthood. How does all these things affect you? Does it affect men too? Or is this just a question for the girls?  Answer the questions listed below. Please include your name (pseudo name is fine), age, gender, occupation, education background and citizenship when you reply. A little note from you is appreciated.Forward all answers to nudenotnaked@gmail.com. Privacy will be respected. Thank you. Closing date line is 10th May. Results and data will be published on 15th May 2006. Useful tip!! Copy and paste the following questions into your mail, complete them and send to nudenotnaked@gmail.com.
Invite your friends to particpate in this survey. Just send them this link ---> *** Girls, I wonder how many of us actually made back up plans with some former lovers? I actually got high school sweetheart to promise me his sperm, in case I could not find a suitable partner to share a child with. Not your typical girl next door, Miss Otto =) And if you have not, perhaps you should reach for that precious number, start dialling and get yourself a back up plan!!! Or you can do as the fashionable Angelina did. Fly to Cambodia, adopt a spanky new baby from an orphanage, give him a nice hair cut and the coolest name (lots of toys and tonnes of love) and be named the Hottest Mama on earth - do all this and more while keeping your figure. Tags Sex Angelina Jolie Maddox Relationship sperm Egg adoption Sex Survey Labels: HighSchoolSweetheart |