Turning Point?

The many disagreements over lifestyle, over petty lies were then becoming too frequent. Paranoia became an addiction, sometimes sadly, hatred was mistaken for love. Loving too much till it hurts? Now that sentence made sense. I was entrangled in a web. The web of wanting things to be right, while Mr Conversationalist was adamant to show who was wearing the pants in the relationship.

I was sent to the bottom pit of depression when there were too much things on my plate. Sometimes we were happy, sometime we were just too mad. Accommodating each other's feelings became a chore. All I regret was that one step to failing to keep the trust intact. Crestfallen, by all the dramas.

I keep working at the relationship, pushing the limits, wanting it to work. For Mr Conversationalist, to me, he was taking things lightly. Too lightly even. Then even when we tried to compromise, too many other factors start to push in. Career choices even became an issue to uphold. I was worried as we were approaching the career-pathed stage. I was progressing and sadly, he does not see the urgency. Mr Conversationalist was too laid back. I need to "baby" him into doing researches and to edge him into the right direction. He sees that as me, doing my best, nagging!

With all the problems that were piling up, I fell under pressure. Tears became my company at night and "worry" was practically tattooed on my face. Nearing 3 years in the relationship already and I felt tired. I was not having the same zest in life and it slowly affects my career. I fell ill, affecting my attendance, swollen eyes became an accessory all due to the nights that I spent crying for the relationship.

Our families did not know of the fights that we were frequently having. As both relations were close, we did not want to spoil any of that, thank God for that, at least. But as things or life might have it, one fine day, while I struggled to make life work, he decided to pull the trigger on me, again. Clubbing with his group of friends and coming home to me was not a good combination, especially if one lied about his whereabouts the initial night, especially.

I threw in the towel. I had enough. He wanted to be carefree as a bird with his friends, yet come home to a sweet loving girlfriend, waiting for him, making his bed and to "baby" his life, he was just not going to have it. With a heavy heart and an angry mind, I took off. Back to singlehood, or so I thought. I "recuperated" my feelings and acted fine in front of all. Making them worry was not on my agenda. It was painful for me. To live life on my own. But only me was going to face that, my responsibilty.

As I started to slowly and painfully move on from the depressing relationship, I found that little bit of confidence that I lost. I thought I could manage but till one fine day I received a call, surprisingly from Mr Conversationalist elder brother when I was shopping in one of the malls, weeks after the separation.

Amidst the crowd, we exchanged pleasantries over the phone, expressing our "I-miss-yous" and god, was I excited to hear a familiar voice from his side of the family. But did I not expect when he dropped the bombshell on me.

Elder Brother: "Listen, I have something important to tell you. Are you ready?"
HurtFemale: "Yeap, what's wrong?"
Elder Brother: "Mr Conversationalist got into a road accident and is now in Emergency Room. Can you please come here?"
HurtFemale, with tears streaming endlessly after hearing the news: "I will be there in 20mins."

I stood in the middle of the mall, tears streaming, not caring when other shoppers took a quick look at me and looking puzzled. I was too shaken to have any reaction. I was overwhelmed with sadness and fear. Too many what-ifs ran through my thoughts. The friend that was with me, shooked me out of my daze and as I told him, he instructed me to inform my family members and whisked me off to the hospital.

The Rise and Fall

Guiltily enough, on one particular occasion, I decided to leave my brains and heart at home and left Mr Conversationalist gaping for air looking high and low for me while I shook my ass somewhere. I wanted to be careless with this relationship after that incident and gambled that one night of my life away.

I paid for my carelessness by being returned the same. Now, it was my turn to go rounds of "investigative" questions. Deep down, I was a tiny bit glad. I let him taste his own concoction and hoped that would deter any foolish mistake intended for the future.

We float amongst time, happy and sad, sometimes. Enjoying our dates, cooking for each other. With Mr Conversationalist, I felt married. We were staying together, half the time, at my place or his. We were too much a part of each other's life. We consulted each other's opinion before any decision made. We were married, without the papers.

Our families were awesome. We could all mingle together without any issues and soon we were often more than not, hinted to take one step further by both families. I loved him, but I don't think it was enough to sign my life away. And as for him, it was just not enough doughs in the bank, though mummy was rich, plus, mentally I felt we were not ready. To call each other husband or wife.

Being too close, we grew too comfortable. I threw my opinion as his and he felt "choked". I guess I wasn't thinking straight at that point. All I thought was, I do not want this to go wrong. I wanted to take any precautions just to make this right.

Neither did I know, I was cramping his style. The suffocation he went through just to satisfy my wants and needs to avoid any raptuous tantrums from yours truly was pathetically thinning. He was worried over my tyrant style, knowing my history, that I will turn for the worst.

We went for many counselling sessions with experienced people and seeking their help and opinions as we identified our problems. We wanted to better our relationship, not to degrade it further. It was a trying period for us as we vented our anger and quarrelled our days and nights when expectations were not met.

Becoming Queen of Paranoia

Couple of months went on, without myself committing officially to Mr Conversationalist. He was a likeable person, be it by my colleagues, families or friends. A humble nice boy-next-door. He would sent breakfasts to my workplace, picks me up from work, joins the after-work-parties, mingles freely with my family and as usual, often holds a great conversation with almost anyone.

I was happy with what I have, he, a safety net that I would fall into should anything goes wrong. In fact, as we all know, rarely, anything would be wrong in courtship days. Everything will be rosy and nice and impossible is nothing. Been there? I had. Then, there was a yearning in me. Someone to call my own.

One night, when we were on the way to a karaoke session with my boss, I told him yes, even without any questions asked. His eyes went wide opened and he nearly let go of my arm and ran the whole circumference of the carpark. He went slightly bonkers while I was grinning from ear to ear. How nice does it feel to be the bearer of good news. We joined my colleagues and boss that night, with an extra bounce in our steps. Happy and exhilarated with our newfound status.

7 months of courtship to make myself mentally ready and to accept him as being a part of my life. He was a very patient man with little temper while I was the fiery lady who didn't want anything to go wrong. Since my past experience taught me a few things about mens, I thought a little bit of precaution would not have hurt. Boy, was I wrong.

I treated him as innocent as a baby could be. Pure and innocent with no prejudice. All I know was, I didn't want him to fail me. Through his bad experience, it was a similar criteria too. All I wanted was, honesty and love in a relationship. Finally, one fine night, he made a mistake that he paid his dues for a very long time.

People told me, the mistake he did, which was to keep in contact with someone from the past was too minor for me to keep harping on. But did anyone understood my pain? The pain of opening my heart once again to someone I learnt to love yet finds that his past is catching up with him. I gave up, as easy as that. I thought, I rather pay the price of getting minorly hurt now than getting major heartbreaks.

He went bonkers. He came looking for me at my workplace, seeking for forgiveness, brought white roses to my house and did many possible things to ask for my forgiveness. I thought. Why should I let anything from our past dictate our relationship? And damn, I love this boy! All the time I was avoiding him, I missed him just as much. Apart from that mistake he did, he was nice to me, always there for me, was never rude to me, took care of me, loves me like how I love. There was barely any reason strong enough for me to banish him to the "storage room".

We made it very clear on the very lines that we have to respect. But sadly, as an emotional woman with "cheating past partners", I was an emotional wreck. A failure with trust and became Queen of Paranoia. And poor Mr Conversationalist paid the price through his nose.

Still, he was patient with me. He answered all my "investigative" questions, was by my side most of the free time or we were "married" to each other family. He understood that he had hurt my trust and the only way he needs to get it mended is to earn it back. Slowly.

Nearly Biting The Bait!

As time pass by, I got used to the idea of striking it out on my own. I travelled to work by public. I shopped with the girls. I chilled with the girls. I did a huge lot of living independently. I put myself on par with the boys as I see that as a challenge for me.

Who doesn't want someone to love? Someone to call their own? To me, those mens I met were just not on par. Not addictive enough to make me stay. I still see a shadow of Mr Cadet wherever I go. I still harped on our memories though it was no longer painful now. My family thought I have lost my desire for boys and were silently worried.

One fine day, life just had to prove otherwise. The wall that I built to safeguard my soul, my heart and my fear was climbed by a stranger. In fact, a nobody. We met in a train and for god-knows-what reasons, we innocently acknowledged each other's presence throughout the train ride. Without speaking. We held an innocent gaze and smiled and we held a light and innocent conversation later on as I alight to my destination.

Turns out Mr Conversationalist's destination was way past mine and he forgo it just to take a chance for a conversation to strike. Cheap talk? Let's find out. He asked for my digits and I gave him thinking that, that will be the end of it. Nothing more. He was just someone I might have taken a fancy to during the ride and conversation.

To work I went and his image was erased just as fast as the work piled on. Not a second I remembered and as the day end as I was resting my laurels on bed, my phone rang. Seeing an unfamiliar number, I picked it up and well hello, it turns out to be Mr Conversationalist. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as his voice engulfed us in a very long midnight conversation.

We talked and talked till the birds came out, the sun nearly shine and the eyes were still hyped on the many interesting conversations that we held. I begged for pardon as I took a quick rest before I rushed for work. With sleepy eyes and an aching body, I dragged my heavy feet to work cursing the lack of sleep I just had, but I smiled thinking of the many silly conversations we had. He was no smooth talker, he was an arguer. Interesting! We held quite a couple of in-depth discussions and trust me, he did not bore me with the typical, "When I saw you, I thought a star had dropped from the sky or your eyes reminds me of the diamonds of River Nile conversations!" He was real.

Nearing evening, I received a call from him asking for directions to my workplace and tada! minutes later, he was there. We caught supper and we talked for a bit more before we decided to head home. He rode me home and we realised we were just ten minutes away from each other by the highway. Silly me! All tired but this mouth just won't stop yapping. We talked for a bit more on the phone and as soon as it hits a bit after midnight, both of us crashed to bed.

Those dates went on for a couple of months and through this conversations, we found out that we had multiple mutual friends! Even Mr Footballer is his acquantaince! Doesn't the world seem small now? Remembering my own swear, I told Mr Conversationalist of it. After the drama with Mr Footballer, I have sworn off all soccer players, childishly on my side and too cautiously too. Mr Conversationalist turns out to be a soccer player too, from a different club and I playfully told him, "Great! Now I can call you my buddy and if you have any thoughts of dating me exclusively, you can just erase it off."

Not knowing my words carried so much weight, I received a call from him a couple of weeks later, in the morning, while I was still heavy with sleep, all excited he said, "You! I declined my contract. Now we can be officially dating!" I poked at his remarks, "Yeah, we'll discuss marriage too." We laughed and I went back to building castles in my dreams.

Little did I know how serious the whole matter was. When I was up and fresh and digested the information fed by Mr Conversationalist, my eyes went wide open and my fingers dialled his number to get a confirmation on what I thought was just a dream. He gave me an affirmative and I was as guilt as charged. What is he going to do now?

We met for a bowling session that evening and he told me of his contingency plans. While I backed off at the part he hinted he wanted me exclusively, officially dating. He sensed my reluctance and the topic was never brought up again. Till that time, we were seeing each other for at least half a year. Till how long did he wait?

The Serpent's Kiss

For many months I did not want to invest in love. As it is, some of you might have thought I have cheapen the meaning of love, falling in love with Mr Cool, Mr Footballer, Mr Good Looker and Mr Cadet while I gambled with the Devil on Mr Musician and Mr Pick Up Line. Being young and naive, I just wanted to feel loved, to feel wanted and even in the darkest hour, I did not falter in my beliefs.

When we were growing up, we females, especially, read up on many fairytale stories that promises "happily ever after" endings and sadly but true, the concept is somehow embedded into that tiny chip at the back of our mind. That might explain on why females adore "fairytale-weddings" eventhough the whole works is nothing but not.

The path to happiness was not meant to be easy, nor was it designed for the faint-hearted. It promises loads of trial and error, heartache and sacrifices. Add that combination to a fragile youth with limited knowledge and maturity, you get the Hurt Female. One of the millions who got hurt in the search of love. To set things differently, Hurt Female would be one of the thousands who still held her head high and marched on in life despite all the setbacks.

Hurt Female has friends and families who underwent worst if not better lives tackling this agenda, but she sees the strength in these humans. For they lost and loved again, despite the hurts. Who said life was a bed of roses?

Love occurs in many places. Be it on a vessel, the club or even at the workplace. Love knows no boundaries should race, religion and colour be taken into consideration. Love is a four letter word that is so strong that even the heart can't contain. Just remember, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me". If you did not learn from your past experiences, it will be a loss to you, as that experience only belongs to you. But still, who is to blame for failures? Just held your head high and trudge on your life.

To be or not to be..
Only you have the right..
To decide, for better or for worse..

I pray for you to realise..
Despite the hurt that you go through..
Move forward in life, better than ever..
Not for me.. Not for them.. But just for you..

Picking Up The Pieces

As time passes me by, I got a grip on life. I was a determined person, call me dumb, call me stupid but one thing I never do was to give up on myself cause I was taught to be better. Despite the frequent heartbreaks and separations, many would have thought that I would have hung up my boots off the playing field, in which I did, for some time. I wrestled with my own monster and fought to wean off the memories of Mr Cadet.

Try as much as I could, then I realised, these are memories to last me a lifetime. It will never happen again. Why am I trying to void myself of such beautiful memories? Was I too weak to actually crumble at my own thoughts? Was I that weak? How could I let be manipulated by my own mind? I took all his belongings that I placed in a box, took it out, and locked the door. Taking in the leisure of the whole night reminiscing my beautiful memories with a beautiful man, I slowly came to terms, since I can't change the storyline of my life. I accepted.

It was difficult. In fact, torturous. To see all those pictures that we collated over that stretch of time, the gifts that we exchanged, the dollar bills we traded and the cards we made for each other from scratch to commemorate our weekly dates. It was a fairytale but as we all adults know by now, fairytales only happens in Disney.

One thing I have never regretted, to have him with me, eventhough for a bit than to have never felt his love. And, I'm thankful.

What's your flavour.. Tell me what's your flavour..

I have always been against the idea of labelling oneself. Was it sadness that I felt when hurls of the term SPG was thrown to my way when me and Mr Cadet walked, not hand-in-hand in town, bypassing the "local" flavour with the abusive catcalls and silent disregard? Why did they have to judge? I was affected initially but thinking things through in my head, I thought, I do not owe them an explaination for my actions nor do I owe anyone my life to be dictated or affected by their "racism".



Mr Cadet was the total American Pie. He was attentive, sensitive and certainly outgoing. I called him my half-man-woman partner. After a couple of dates, I became curious as to his scope on the vessel and his availability. It seems that anytime I picked on any day for a date is convenient for him. And so he came serving me the truth. The vessel that is docking at my company's dock belongs to his Daddy. The relevation did not come as a joy to me but more as a shock! Was I doing any justice by dating him when his Dad is a major client of the company? I feared for a bit and did not return his calls for a couple of days.

Mr Cadet just did not stop. Firstly, he took a huge step into coming into my office, flowers in hand and demanding an explaination on my disappearing act, in full view of my superior. Did I just tripped over a livewire? I explained and explained till I knock the ideas into his stubborn American skull and love or lust conquers all. As he mentioned, "Not anyone should rule our heart. Let it be where it belongs. I think by now you should know, it belongs right there, where your little heart resides."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I squeezed his strong hands tight. We made a tiny pact to meet for dinner after work, or my work ends, technically and we left office, this time round, hand-in-hand. Unafraid of the stares and glares, I followed what my little hearts says, defying the nagging feeling of my conscience.


It was easy to jump back to being happy and carefree being with him. It was difficult to feel depressed or worried when I was with him as every inch of attention that I desire was returned with lots of love. He was never shy of hugs and kisses and certainly affection. He was never afraid to race me in town just for a good laugh. He did not fear looking weird to hear the giggle of my laughters. With him, I forgot to worry. With him, I became my true self.


Surprises were aplenty. I remembered wanting to get a Davidoff perfume which I totally adore. But being the typical Singaporean, I wanted to get it during a SALE, which was happening 2 weeks after. When we were dining over our steaks and wine, he asked me to get the tissue from my tote bag. I digged in and passed it to him. He looked uneasy and wanted me to get the mirror from my bag then. I digged in again and touched a surface which was not familiar. I looked into my bag and saw that sexy pink box. IT IS THE DAVIDOFF PERFUME. All nice and wrapped with a cute white ribbon. Tears of joy welled up at the sag of my eye. And all I said is thank you while he hurried over and cradled me like a baby. I sniffled and my cries turned to giggles as I took in the surprise. My eyes, still glistened with tears looked at his face and I remembered telling myself, "Come what may..."


We caught movies, shared popcorns, he would hugged me in the middle of a pavement, piggy-back me in a crowd. We were two carefree soul, not intending to let time be a distraction in our lives. Till a day, I came clean with my parents and thank my lucky stars, they were fine with the whole idea. We invited him out for dinner and glad that despite the language barries which were pretty minimal, all of us in the family got along very fine. On our first family dinner, Mr Cadet was very upfront about himself and even engaged my dad on a man-to-man conversation. As much as I try to eavesdrop with disapproving looks from my mum, I heard nothing much except I saw that my dad gave him an encouraging pat on his back. He turned to look at me with a twinkle in his eye.


As I wanted to bid him goodbye after dinner, he cheekily held my hand and wore a smile so sickeningly cheeky that I wanted to smack his face to senses. He did not bid goodbye but instead followed the family entourage back to my abode. This is getting funny. Right at the foot of my lobby, he turned, kissed my sweaty forehead and told me that my dad has approved him staying over at my place for a couple of days for him to learn more of our Asian culture. Hip..Hip..Hooray!!


Mum and me went into the cleaning frenzy as we got little brother's room ready for Mr Cadet to bunk in there while Mr Cadet and dad continued their manly agenda. He cleaned up and showered and his first taste of the Asian culture was to don a "sarong". This left me in a hysterical fit as he asked for bobby pins to hold the "sarong" together. Dad thought him the way to put it together and soon the family retreated to their rooms as me and Mr Cadet continued watching some flicks on the telly. Well, in fact, we just did not want to be separated for that moment.


The morning after I hustled and bustled with the pots of coffees and pans getting breakfast ready for the family and Mr Cadet before we left for our scorching hot date to see the animals. We ate, we gotten ready and off we go monkeying around in the zoo. Fantastic! A few animal shows and fast foods and ice creams later, we were all sticky with sweat and decided to head home in order to freshen up before we indulge the weekends.


We enjoyed live bands and he introduced me to the many different culinary meals that I was too afraid to try before. I thought him simple Asian languages and I even poked many great teases his way. His tickles were a torture as I giggled till I tear.


It came to a point that he said to me, "He was ready to take a step further." I was taken aback. Our families were nice to us and he was adamant to make this work. I was happy yet still very sceptical. Too many fears. Was it a fear of the commitment? I brushed it aside and came a time he asked my dad for his permission to "fly" me to his home, I had to disagree as I was young and at that point of time, I felt that I have so much to achieve and those goals that I have set for myself were not even nearly attained. I was in love, but I did not want to lose myself. Mr Cadet was disappointed but decided not to pursue the matter as he knows forcing me will not change my mind but his sincerity will.


Came a day that he bears bad news. A day that I will never forget. The pain and the tears that shook my whole life and when reality went right smack into my face! Mr Cadet had to leave. He was here far too long. We kept extending his stay and I kept avoiding the subject of his return to his country. I did not want to dwell on the unhappiness, but when the day came, I crumbled.


I thought with the frequency of males leaving my life, I would have at least become stronger. Still, I felt inflicted with pain, eventhough it was in no way his fault. I got lost in his arms as I muffled my final goodbye, not knowing when we will meet again. The farewell gift I got him was for him to remember the Asian experience he had, once upon a time in life. The memories that we had were put together, acting as a diary for us to fall back on should we forget what we used to have.


After a very long time in his arms, I was pulled away by his Dad and hugged just as tightly. His last words brought more tears to my eyes, "If love had it's way, you both will find each other, no matter when." For the final time, as even oceans separate us and many continents apart, he wanted me to stay true and his parting words, "I will trust you till you give me a chance not to. I love you, Bambino." With that he stepped into that forbidden line and we were separated by a glass. That brought him to his destination and his path of life while me, to my own.


The amounts of phone calls and emails that we sent were overwhelming. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months and months to years. We coped with the pain but yet the friendship and love we had never dimmed. It is easier after time had passed as I fondly remember our loveboat. He, I shall proudly say, he never fails to brighten my day up, despite being miles apart.

He, I will never forget..

Foreign Flavour

Immersed myself in work and forsaking that bit of social freedom, as I took that as a personal punishment for that black mark in my life history. I dated some guys but never did I commit to them fearing for history to repeat. Men complained saying that the walls that I put up was too much for anyone to penetrate, don't even bother climbing, I should say.


Imagine the ratio of men to women in my working environment to be of 1 : 150. It was a male-dominated area and women really need to strive hard to even be recognised in the industry. Not for the wrong reasons but for our capabilities. Then will you even be considered of the same level as the mens in the company.


This puts a lot of pressure on me. The pressure to excel, to achieve and to prove to myself that I am better than what I was.


My scope includes meeting the "big guns" of these million-dollar making industry and to entertain them over business lunches or dinner. One have to be really of sound mind and be strong willed as these high-flyers thinks that Asian chicks are really meant to be put in their money-maker derriers. My superior taught me well. How to be as business-like at all formal meetings, how to carry ourself well and also how to divert the attention of the lewd remarks made by these mens, whom sadly, are aged, wealthy and married. To them, money makes the world goes round and make the girls bend down.


These happenings makes me hate going for the meetings and as far as I could, I will arrange for another colleague to attend. One meeting that I did not miss was a lunch meeting onboard a vessel in the yard. Put on the safety gears and equipments I did as I trudged along the dock and made my way up the steely steps with my Director. Once inside, we lunched and we answered enquiries on the contract signing and as I was about to wrap the whole meeting, came a cadet in uniform that approached me.


With a tinge of American accent,"Hi! I wonder if you have heard of China Black? I heard that's a cool club here." I nodded in agreement. Again, he continued, "Do you mind coming with us tonight to the club? Me and my mates are heading there." I declined politely and diverted my attention elsewhere. But in all honesty, he was a gorgeous chap! I continued chatting with some other subordinates and even informed the owner of the vessel of a good international soccer match that will take place that weekend. And if they are lucky, they might still be able to pull off some tickets since thousands of people are expected to turn up. Well, I was feeling patriotic for the country, of course! Chatted a bit more and finally we excused ourselves and made our way back to the main building office.


The cadet was then put at the back of my mind as I know for sure there was no way in hell that we will see each other again, seeing that we do not mingle with clients socially outside except for formal occasion. Not till an envelope addressed to my department attentioned to me reached. Opening the envelope, expecting some invoices, my eyes bulged at the tickets inside. All 15 pieces of tickets that entitle me to enter the stadium to watch the adrenaline-pumping soccer game! I froze in time and kept rereading my name, kept looking at the tickets and finally I found my voice which came out in a squeak. "Who bought this?"


The attendant just smiled and says it is a gift from the vessel. Can you imagine me doing a whoopsie in the office and as soon as I settled down, I quickly list the names of family members that I was going to invite to the match. And before I unwind myself from work, I wrote a thank-you note to be sent to the vessel, addressed to ALL, since I have no exact name to direct it to.

The Saturday I have been waiting for whizzed by and with strict instructions, the whole family donned red in support of the country. We elbowed our way through the crowd and settled our butts on the "comfy" wooden planks called seats. Since we had time to spare, I went for a quick puff and in that moment I was contributing to the depleting ozone layer, my eyes caught a face of a man that looked a tiny bit familiar. He smiled, he elbowed his way too and in minutes, he was right in my face. Mr Cadet! Can my luck get better than this?! How in the world were we to bump into each other amongst the many thousands of human beings? So, I asked, "Did you get the tickets sent to me?" He replied with a twinkle in his eye, "Cheers! So you made it."

I offered him to join my family for the game where he saw the raw side of me, cheering on for my country and getting into the mood. He got along well with the other family members, shouting in unison and participating in the "waves" and "stomping" of our feets. We laughed, we ate finger food, we hurled abuse at the game, all in the name of fun. Dreading the final whistle to go off, since that means the end of our "date". He offered to go for supper but seeing that I was with the whole army of family, I declined and we parted at the stadium door, not before exchanging our local numbers.

When Enough is Enough

With the drama that unfolds in that nightlife snippet, I found a friend out of Mr Pick Up Line. He went through the trouble of explaining how he is attached, introduced his girlfriend to me and yet still confessed to holding a torch for me. Well, this boy here is real honest.

People say, do not do unto others what you do not want others to do unto you. So I stepped back from the potential love triangle, said my thanks and kept my distance. The girlfriend was one sweet pie, taking me in as a new friend, no grudges or ill-feelings. Well, one fine day, while shopping, I understood why.

Ms Hostess fears losing Mr Pick Up Line. Bingo! I spot that same fear when I was with Mr Footballer. I assured her with regards to my friendship with Mr Pick Up Line, that I will always respect her as his girlfriend. But for the good of god, I restrained myself from telling her of his confessions to me. What she does not know, won't hurt her, I guess. And by any chances too, I have no ill plans of taking the sunshine out of her life.

The friendship stayed stagnant between me and him and I was getting irritated with his affections, which I feel may hurt Ms Hostess even if she doesn't show it. Well, a girl should know how another girl feels better than the opposite sex. I texted a lengthy message to Mr Pick Up Line mentioning how I feel uncomfortable with the whole situation because what I am in is for their friendship and not to be some relationship destroyer.

As soon as I send the text out, I took off my sim card and hurled it away to be replaced by a new card, a new number and hopefully a new lease of life. I wanted to shed off any bad memories I had of that particular pub and decide if I wanted to start anew, everything have to start with myself.

Walking away from the whole situation was a coward's choice. I rather be a coward than a 3rd party. I have felt the intrusion before and I do not need that to happen to another soul.

Leaving the scene, I breathe a new me. No longer do I want to be associated with the night owls. It was a difficult step, but it was a step worthy.

I had my wildest times in that teenage drama age and embracing my early youths of the 20s. I deserve all things nice. So how do I make this happened? It took a lot of focus and motivations from your family, true friends and even colleagues.

Mr Musician - The Ring on the 4th Finger

My mind went into an overdrive mode. My heart went into stone-mode. "Do not be eaten by the smooth words of a man. Do not fall in love again. Do not be a slave to your emotions", became my mantra for quite sometime. I was back. But not with my heart ready to be shattered. But I was back, with vengeance in mind.


I made quite a few appearence at the beer garden and at the club. Played my cards well. Not giving in to both despite them knowing that I was callously playing the field. Tried as they can, it was becoming clearer to me, it was more like a competition on whose hands get into my pants first. Experience taught me so.


Mr Musician was rather posessive with me, making it known that he "own" me despite my tries to potray otherwise. A night came where I was smashed. Pretty smashed with all the complimentary booze that came my way. Mr Musician played the good samaritan and had a place to stay till I could clear my head. It was his music studio and what a feature! Surprise!! He is actually a local music composer, song writer and whatnot. Plastered across the studio walls were articles after articles of his achievements. If I was a "kid", I would have certainly gotten butt naked and presented myself to him. But all I did was, locked myself in the recording room, text him with an instruction to wake me up 2 hours later and dozed off to hangover land. Booooring.... He must have said. He must have thought he was going to get lucky that night. Boy! Were you so wrong.


Couple of times he offered tea, food and a massage even. To great lengths did this mature man offered for my convenience but all were turned down. I was not a hooker nor a girl that he dated and at any chance presented, will get jiggy with him. So when all else fails, when I woke up from my slumber, I saw him rearranging music pieces.


Cleaned my face and packed my bag, took my heels and said my goodbye. He looked disappointed that I didn't want to stay a bit longer. I hurried myself before I changed my mind, got into a cab and was safely home half an hour later.


Few days later, he invited me again to watch him play and this time round, he had a surprise for me. Surprise? Hmm.. I came by to the beer garden alone and after his first set, as I wanted to make my move, he held my hand and led me to his brand new baby. A car. So Mr Musician must have thought I was materialistic. Too bad darling, whatever you have, my Dad could have provided better. He passed me a CD and with innocent eyes told me to listen to the songs. He "dedicated" the last number on the CD to me. Oh, how sweet!


I left and chucked the CD to the bottom pit of my bag. But when I was in the comfort of my room, I gave it a chance to serenade me. Touched, yes! The song is beautiful. Slow and mesmerising. Being sceptical of all these I took the CD cover, scanned through it and very true! He is the songwriter of the music pieces. Very impressive! Wait.. I saw something.. His "thank-you roll".. He mentioned a "thank you Bee.. for your support all this while.." Something is wrong here. I stopped the CD and chucked it back to the case and "bury" it elsewhere. I feel rejuvenated.


Come a few more times I "entertained" Mr Musician with his "clingy" acts and of luck, he actually introduced me to one of his good buddies from KL. This buddy later became my great buddy and being gay, we shared many girly issues. I worked on my water works on Mr Gay, citing relationship problems did Mr Gay actually shook me hard with the truth.


Mr Musician is married with 3 young boys! Woaah!! Now this sounds fun. Mr Musician, the lonely musician with obsession actually has got a ring on his 4th finger that he never fails to remove when he is with me. I smacked myself to reality, played his game and marched down to the beer garden I did.


You know what embarassment do to guys, they get all defensive and for one to puncture their ego, they would rather end up like ostrich and hide their brainless heads into the Earth. But no, I didn't give him a chance to do that. I came, I screamed at him and went minimally berserk and sent him scrambling to save any shred of humility he had of himself. Grabbed my arms he did and swinged me over to the car. I splattered whatever vulgarities I had in my head while he kept apologising profusely. Like a kid getting caught for stealing candies, that was his exact state.


I gave him an ultimatum - Do not look for me ever again, do not talk to me again and do not even dare to breathe a word that he actually know me. I was disgusted that a man who is a husband, a father at that, can actually bring his self-worth so low. OR, I will personally call on his wife and blurt out his infidelity, despite not having any sexual intercourse with him. A man like him should be working to support his wife and kids at home. To be friends is fine, but for all the actions he did, he must have thought he is single.


That sent the man crying. Citing marital problems, loneliness and a need to bond with another. Which to me is, not my problem even from the start. I told him to behave like a man, take up the responsibility and face the problem in the eye instead of gallivanting out in town. To slap much more sense into him, I thanked him for the Guess Jeans, the treats, the heels and I took my leave.


"I had fun with you and I hoped you had fun too." With that, I left.


As years passed and I reflected on my behaviour. What a bitch I was. I was a bitch, given the circumstances. While Mr Musician just seem to be a part of the increasing statistic of infidelity spouse.

Then I felt sorry for him. For losing out on a happy marriage and also for losing out on being a real dad. An honest one too. If he was really heading for Splitsville with Mrs Musician, to me, he should have at least be honest of the situation and certainly deal with his marriage first. What does that say of such mens? Responsible? I figure not.

Nowadays that I see him again, I just shook my head in disgust as I recalled my past. I shove this part of my history to the deepest pit of my memory as I remember all those time I was standing on my both feet, thinking that this is the path of life. But if this is the path of life, why do I sit by the window at home by the moonlight, still hoping for that Knight in the Shining Armour to come and sweep me off my feet and bring me to HappyVille? I realise, this is just not me, and I certainly do not deserve all these. But I took it in my stride still and took it as an experience in life that I will never want to go through again. Ever.

The Start of My Nightmare on Nightlife

Too many dramas in my life within my teenage life. I had fallen, I had crumbled, I was even defeated by the emotional cycle of love. I blamed myself as much as I blamed the guys involved. Call me a diva, call me a bitch, no other way around, I held my head high and marched on with life. But lo behold, did I hurt myself more in the end. Depression took over me as I despised guys. Despised their selfishness for putting their needs, their interest before me.

I decided that it is time to serve my best dish forward. A dish called Revenge, best served cold. Without thinking of my family's reputation and honor, ultimately my self-honor, I began drowning my sorrow. I got involved in the nightlife heavily. I spent my hard-earned money on fashion and booze. Well, at that foolish point of time, I thought, I will be all nice and pretty, will prey on guys, hurt them where it hurt most and leave them in the cold. What a plan!

So shopping I did with a partner-in-crime and getting all those clothes, trying not to act my age. With bags in tow, we decided to park our butts at a popular pub, while I nurse an aching desire for some booze and resting our little feet giving them a break from all those walking aroud town. As we sat and chat and tried to lift our moods, a live band played near the beer garden that we were hanging out at. We were attracted to the melodious voice and great accompaniment of the music. Lull into space we did and came a chance for my plan to fall into action.

A pint of beer came to my table, bill settled and came a note from the server, "You look gorgeous." Chuckle I did as I thought, men and their words. Not knowing which Tom, Dick or Harry bought me the drink, I declined the offer as the server took it away. My friend fumed at my blondness as I told her, "Just watch...." True enough, to my calculated expectation, a man appeared soon after the band went for their first break. He introduced himself as the band member and asked smoothly, if any other drinks would be to my liking, instead of the first. Bingo! We had Mr Musician who was generous enough to clear my bill and get us drinks. "Let's take him for a ride", my heart whispered.

We had quite an intellectual conversation, and of course I played my cards well enough. Not to give too much information of myself away, just to leave a smokescreen to bait his man-hunger. He finally succeded in getting drinks for me and my friend, thinking that we will at least make it work for him, or to at least stay till his next set. Apart from conversing with him, I acted nonchalant to his mere existence. Mens like him fume in anger silently as to why young "fishes" like me do not bite his "bait". Soon, he had to go back to stage for his performance.

In an attempt to get my attention, he dedicated a song, My Sacrifice, to the 2 girls whose feet are tired from all those shoppings. Damn! I love that song! But I did what any girl might not have done. Less than half way through the song, I picked up my shopping bags, haggled my dreamy friend off the stool and exitted the pub. Did not turn back and hailed a cab and left for home.

With a puzzled look, my friend nearly killed me with all her neverending questions: "Are you crazy? He bought us drinks, dedicated a song to us and all you did was to walk away? Are you going bonkers? Are you not feeling well? Do you want to go to the doctor's?" So on and so forth. I just looked at her and told her, "He will look for us, if he wants to, ok?" I closed my eyes to her non-stop rambling about how cold I was to him when all he was being was nice to us.

Rude I was not but it was too obvious for my eyes that Mr Musician was a tad too desperate, or, he was one who never fails in his conquests, which I believe so. He was more than 10 years my senior and I was supposed to go gaga over him, cos he had the "musical package". What I had was just revenge on my little evil mind. A few weeks went by and not a day I stepped into the pub, I frequented other places to get my booze fix and one fine evening, we decided to patronise that fateful beer garden.

Delighted was not what he expressed when I walked passed him over to the table that we had reserved. More like disappointment edging on anger. I waved him a non committal hello and all he did was, turn his back on me. How cute! A man at his age playing the sulking game. I decided I liked this game and anyone care to explain, what is it among these musicians that has a very competitive edge amongst them? We girls were doing the normal gossip girls routine, fresh hot stories out from the stove, an apple martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other, when a guy, of about our age came by and asked me directly,"Do you want to learn how to play the guitar? I can teach you." Looking at my girl's reaction, we burst into girlish giggles and with tears in my eyes, I just looked at the guy in amazement. He looked and said, "Is that the worst pick up line you have heard? I'm sorry. I just want to be your friend." One point for honesty!

We invited him to sit at our sofa and he gladly accepted the offer. So the girls drilled him with lots of questions and Mr Pick Up Line entertained them with many short anecdotes that brought more laughters from the girls. I enjoyed his company but yet at the corner of my eye, I saw Mr Musician looking through at me with searing sight. Turns out that Mr Pick Up Line was a part of another band that plays in the club and invitation to enter the club were quickly snapped up by my girls.

I excused myself for a breather outside and Mr Musician happens to be outside too, smoking in silence. How convenient! He did not waste time in telling me, how hurt he was when I left the other time without even saying goodbye and the least of courtesy to leave a number. I was shocked at the apprehension. I laughed a nervous laugh and he turned all sad. He told me he just wanted to be a friend and how lonely it can get being a musician. My heart almost went out to him as I just traced his arm and affirmed our little new friendship. Poof! Sadness gone, I could see excitement in his eyes. He offered a lift back and I declined as the girls will be in the club with our little new friend, Mr Pick Up Line.

And I thought girls are the worst at bitching, Mr Musician turned on his bitch-mode and told on Mr Pick Up Line, how he is attached to a bar hostess at another club. And how arrogant he can get, just because he is skillful with his tounge, as in, he was good at strumming the guitar with his tounge! Ouch! I waved all that away and told him I will call him the next day. Went into the club, Mr Pick Up Line was already on stage with his band. He was quite awesome for his age. I watched in awe and my girls mouthed to me, "Lucky Bitch!" Little did they know, I knew Mr Pick Up Line has got some commitment going around somewhere behind that mask.

Good Lookingly Insecure

Mr Good Looker had a way with the parental unit. Or should I say, almost everyone. Anyone who met him, loves him and adores him. He was looked upon as The Hero who brought me out from the "ghetto love".

Seeing that he got looks to almost-kill-for, I was very smitten with him. But due to my experience with Mr Footballer, I was sceptical. But still trust was not an issue with him, as he was always making himself available to my becks and calls. He was always with my dad too, if he was not engaged in some shoots or his other duties.

Being with him was easy. Just be honest, be there when he calls and to communicate always. That was what I needed as he "babied" me back to life. It became a slight addiction, knowing that he was always there and him knowing that I will always be at the end of the line. We took each other for granted, I guess. Inferiority complex took place too as the sudden fear of losing my lifeline took place. He could have dated tall, beautiful lanky girls from his industry, he didn't. He could have picked up any female just by the smoldering looks he potrays, he didn't. The problem lies with me. The rich little girl who thought he deserves better but nonetheless did she she he was in love with her. Just for being her. Little did she thought, Mr Good Looker has had enough with the girls out there who made use of him, his contacts to elevate their modelling chance or telly career. Like her, Mr Good Looker had been hurt before. In fact, one too many.

Not wanting to play the "I-feel-inferior-that's-why-I-cheat-game", I started to treat him less importantly. I tried standing back on both feet, not needing his guidance. But in actual fact was, i was afraid. He felt the difference and all he told me was, "If you think I'm not good enough for you, go back to Mr Footballer." I just stood there by the road and cried. He was leaving the country for 2 weeks so he felt better asking me to leave instead of having much more drama in the future. I was too egoistic to even tell him the honest truth.

He left without a trace and I moved on shabbily. The lifeline I found in him was gone that night. Sad? I was devastated. Why couldn't I just tell him that I needed him but I was insecure?

I didn't hear from him again not till a year or two later when I bumped into him at a pub and also in a mall. I was excited and we exchanged pleasantries. I often see him on some telly show and model competition and all I can do is sit back and watch him from the box. He even won some talent show that brought him across the causeway and last we updated each other about life, he is based there. Great to hear things work out really well for him.

Dear Good Looker,
You brought me back to life, even for a short while. You were a personality right out of the telly. You were funny, you cared and you loved. Thank you for being that cushion to break my fall.
Your Little Daddy's Girl,
Me

The Abusive Cheater

Still dazed by my 1st love with the Chinese Boy, I was not deterred to pursue a new love, as I still get those many catcalls, stalkers from different schools pestering to have a friendship and also gifts by the doors. As I was young, I figured, well, if it is going to be hard, religiously, for me to be with someone of a different religion and beliefs, I would stick to dating someone of the same religion.


But as usual, I was picky. I "sifted through the potential candidates" yet I feel nothing could replace my fond memories of My Chinese Boy. No one had an aura strong enough to drown me in love, again.


Well they say, love strikes at unexpected places. But I have yet to hear, love blossoming in your own house. No.. No.. No incest action took place.. It was just that I had an elder brother whose soccer friends would hang out at the crib, lounging around, having a ball of their own with the games on telly or just to ogle at me, the little girl in the house.


It was a well-known fact, no matter how much they see or tried to strike a conversation with me, Big Brother's sister is off limits to everyone. I was teased, I was pampered but all of us knew our limit. As a glare from the Big Brother could penetrate into one's soul and guilt is an almost immediate reaction. Everyone were close and came a day when this young footballer become an acquaintance of the group. He was a few years older than me, plays soccer professionally, is good looking and has a nice body. Yes, I was that scrutinising.


We passed by each other invisibly. No hellos, no pleasantries exchanged. Me, was in fear of the Big Brother and was focusing on my "O" Levels while he was too busy with soccer and my guess would be, the attention he gotten from other soccer-crazy-chicks. Then a day came where one of my closer friends, my Brother's actually, came up to me and expressed the fact that Mr Footballer wants to know me better. Flip, my stomach went. I declined in fear and he surrendered to the fact.


Love has a thing about letting you feel wanted and magically, allowing you to bump into each other frequently. He took a step further and spoke to me and we started flirting innocently with each other. Then the rest of the clan teased but also forewarned him of the consequences we might face should the Brother knows. But as hormones gotten its way around, we started dating secretly.


One fine day, just as he picked me up from school and sent me home, we bumped into Mr Brother. He gave me that "glare". As soon as Mr Footballer was out of sight, I was given a stern warning about dating his friends and me, being me, the defiant little brat decided that I was old enough to know who I wanted to date. Mr Footballer, despite the respect held for Mr Brother, also decided, come what may, we will go through this together.


Hand in hand we continued dating and even to the extend of falling in love with each other. The families got to know, and as certainly Mr Brother learnt of this too. Seeing our determination, they gave in and we freely were in a relationship by then. Despite the relationship, I was still actively attending school but my afternoon and nights were accompanied in the search of love. We were inseparable. He became a permanent fixture in the house and my life, ultimately. Years went by and once again, I thought we were happy. I had yet to find out that love sizzles and boys, at his age, looks for something different every now and then.


We met less and quarrelled more. Our quarrels escalate into violence and many a time, left me in physical pain. Faces were punched, skins sliced, hot boiling water splashed and necks strangled. In fear of losing the guy I loved, I kept mum about the abuse. I was controlling, fearing the loss, while he became wild in every sense of the word. Lies became his speech and violence was his addiction. Clubs and friends took over the weekend nights just as fast as it took over the weeknights as well. I was stranded, in so much emotional pain.


The lies that entangle the love web, were too much to take. Again and again we fell out but we came back, for whatever reason that was left. He became more and more interested in life outside while he spends only minimal time with me. While I became the victim of lies and lost my soul in despair, my families nagged me back into the person I was, only that I was too dumb to realise.


As I recalled back all those times I spent with him, the money flourished onto the gratitude-less, small salaried-footballer, all my heartaches and pain, I was still stupid. Stupid enough to hang on to that thread of hope that he will be the person that I fall in love with, which was not much. His bike, his clothes, his cigarettes, well, his life was "sponsored" but little did I realise he would never realise all the sacrifices I made. For years, I stood strong, or so I foolishly thought.


The night of my 18th birthday, I was niggled by a feeling of injustice. I felt heavy in the heart and in the cold night right before a few minutes hit midnight, in my pyjamas, I walked over to where he was supposedly at before I lost communication on him. I squinted and looked and peered, no signs of the man. I approached and were his friends shocked to see me. More likely, they looked guilty. They knew why I was there.


"It's my 18th birthday today and Mr Footballer is not with me. He says he will be here. Any of you know where he is?", meekly I asked. I didn't know why, at the same time, my tears trickled down the apple of my cheek as I wiped it away, they feigned ignorance of his whereabouts. I pulled myself away and trudged back home when a hand tapped my shoulder. One of the elder guys was right behind me, looking at me forlornly and spoke,"Go to that block, 2nd floor. By the way, Happy Birthday." I smiled weakly, said my thanks and made my way to the location. My steps were fast, my breathing were angry. I was not sure what I would find out but I felt negative.


Knocked twice on the door, a girl opened in a daze, and there, my Mr Footballer, just in time to zipped his jeans up. What a birthday surprise! I looked, I saw and I walked away. Determined not to look back. With long and heavy stride, I made my way home. Went under my quilt, just a bit after midnight, wished myself a very happy birthday and cried my life out. The betrayal, the turth that I saw. It was no longer a slap with the lies. It seemed to me that the roof cave right onto me. Weak, lost and cheated. Cried myself to bed in the wee morning and as the sun crept onto the day, I felt a sudden strength. My birthday should not be like this, I thought. Gathered whatever that was left of me and dialled both my friend's number and on a quick note, they decide to party that night, in celebration of my birthday!


Spritzed the perfume, wore nice clothes, I zombied my way through the process. I numbed myself and got myself out of the house with my two friends. I drank quite a bit and nearly howled at my "loss", which my friends kept drilling into me was - good riddance. We danced and in that moment of "floatiness", my eyes locked to the eye of a smashing good-looking man! I let my inhibition loose and danced reasonably but half the time, my heart was a tad heavy.


My luck never ran out of me, I guess. The smashingly great looking guy came over to my friend and asked for permission to sit next to me. There goes my stomach churning. He shook my hand, introduced himself, while I kept thinking, "This good looker looks familiar." But I just can't place where I have seen this well-chiselled nice smelling guy. We laughed and spoke. While I danced, he looked on. "Hell yeah!", my heart screamed. This is a good birthday, somehow. Of all the girls in the rooms, breastful of themselves, Mr Good Looker decide to shower Ms Broken Hearted, me, with some good attention.


While I was in for a good time, Mr Good Looker had to bid goodbye. We shyly kissed goodbye, he made sure I had his number to call tomorrow, hell! he even made sure I had enough cash to get home. Was I feeling great out of a sudden downfall of misery. Just what I needed. R.E.B.O.U.N.D. You think so?


Mr Footballer sniffed the facts out over what happened on my birthday. He was in denial as to how I could still rock it out without him. While I was as stoned as it is, I decided, when I saw him with his jeans, that way, enough was enough. There were the lies that I took in, there were the actions that hurt me. But seeing is really believing. The promise to stay true to each other was practically displayed as zilch, in front of my own eyes. So, as I told him, I had enough. 3 years of bitter sweet moments, held nothing to my heart, as much as his action proved me so.


I declined his many advances, his many apologies. He tried hurting himself, getting into accidents in a bid to win my sympathy. I stay stoned. But I was still there for him. I never ran away from him. I was still his listening ear whenever he needed me, which was always, surprisingly. Why do guys only treasure something only when it is gone? He became the worst habitual liar in my life. He would try to hook up girls into his bed, effortlessly, but yet try to rekindle what is left between us and I caught him again in his move. The whole drama with the girls included and not letting his ego down, he openly declares that he uses the girls only to satisfy his sexual needs and to support him financially, while he loves me. Only me. Was I supposed to be touched? That was a total loser speech that he made. I just lost any amount of respect I had for the guy I spent 3 years building castle in the air for and adamant I was, goodbye was to be final.


I heard how his life evolves into being a junkie, occasionally doing drugs, getting drunk frequently, on the run from the army and being in and out of detention barrack. I thanked my lucky star in which made me realise, I was made for better than all this. Terribly enough, he made a tattoo dedicated to me. The word "MISERY" right across his back to reflect the life he had without me and a "lone star" on his arm to symbolise what a Star I was, shining his life back then. All I can think of is, how stupid of one to disfigure God's creation by inking one's body.


All this while, I moved forward in life. I studied on, I dated Mr Good Looker on quite a frequent basis and I bask in the love of the family. Those who made me strong. After much putting the pieces together, then it dawn onto me. Mr Good Looker was a model. A face used by quite a few commercials and even Mr Cleo. And with that, a new friendship spins between the both of us.


Dear Mr Footballer,
We have both moved on in life and you even got yourself engaged to someone who looks like me and even share the same name as me. Thanks for humouring me. And, like all good ex partners, we never hated each other. We still wave hi's and bye's when we meet, which is very rare. But amazingly, deep down, we never hated each other. You have amazingly coloured my life with experience but the hurt you bestowed on me, sadly reminds me even till today, and sadly, it even serves as a punishment to the mens that I have dated after you. I was in fear of a repeat, and I took many precautions and sometimes it hurts the other party. I hope you have changed for the good, eventhough I know you haven't really left the playboy-lifestyle. Just remember, when life gives you a chance, a good one at that, make full use of it.
With lots of hurt memories,
Me.

Introduction of my 1st Love

This blog is dedicated to my lifelong suffering with the opposite sex. How I reacted to hormonal changes and falls in and out of love or infatuation with them. As I try to recall the years of roller-coaster emotion all in the name of a relationship, I hope with this writings, I am able to bid goodbye to all the pain and hurt I felt after all these years and move on to a better tomorrow.

All the writings to follow through are from real-life experience and what one girl went through in pursuit of life and love. May God bless my soul, to let go of the bitter memories.. Amin..

And the story unfolds:
I was a geek. More like an ugly duckling. I only blossom to be an attractive teenager at a late age of 14 years, when by then, I swore off my spectacles, donning them only when at home, or when an eye infection occurs. I grew my hair long and fitted my school uniform snugly under a still-boyish body except for the fact that my breasts were developing.

Boys started to notice me, for my personality that was alive only on stage performance but a very far-off person in reality as I only glide comfortably with my friends of the same gender but of different races. With them, I was the "IT" girl. The flamboyant-over-the-top girl. Boys tried to penetrate into my circle of life with their smooth talks, flatteries and attention. While I still stand behind the mask and stayed back from all the unwanted limelight.

Naturally, the girls in my school hated my persona. The niceties they played in front of me were nothing compared to the dirty looks I received behind my back and the untrue stories that spinned. What did I do? I was not even playing the same game as the boys that they worshipped the grounds on, I was just being myself.

Despite not taking the advances of the males, I kept my head cool till I succumb to my own hormones. The raging hormones of wanting to be loved and needing the attention of the opposite sex. I made my pick among the handful of boys that were flourishing me with attention and a couple of bad choices later, I fall in love with someone of the opposite race and religion. Which was not surprising as I do not feel the empathy being with someone from the same race.

Chinese Boy was similar like me. He was Mr Cool. In fact, I fall in love with him because of his Mr Cool persona more than anything. Like me, he does not speak to any Tom, Dick, Jill or Jane. He picks his clique and only stayed within. To me, he exudes the EXCLUSIVE aura and boy! Was I getting all tingly when he directed his attention to me.

He was my senior in high school and we were allocated Housing Systems for our Annual Sports Day. He was in a different Housing but yet when Training Days started, God, was I shocked to see him in the same House as me. He made a change to be together and pathetically, we have yet to even start talking to each other. His friends and mine were so surprised at our smitten behaviour towards each other, being shy and finally, during one of those Training Sessions that we had after school, he offered to walk me home.

In amidst the silence of us walking home, he finally broke the tranquility and our conversations flew as how it was supposed to be. 2 shy persons who barely knew each other would. He tried the straightfaced approach while I was all shy and red in the face. Reaching my lobby, he asked for my number and I gave it to him, both in our minds, wanting to know each other a little better. We made a phone-date and my heart thumped the loudest as I await for that fateful hour.

We met, spoke, bump into each other in school on a daily basis. And naturally, our feelings grew for each other. We decided to officially be together when we found ourselves sprinkled with the love dust. We could not get each other out of sight. We believed it was love.

All this time I was in love with Mr Cool, there was not once, as far as I remembered, did he disappoint my feelings. He was always there for me and even if that was too much, he would sent someone to remind me of just how much he cared for me. I was never made to walk home alone after school, I was chauffered in a cab, and keep in mind that home was just a nearly 15 minutes walk for me. His friends would escort me till my doorstep or should that not fall through, he made sure my good friends did so.

We would sit opposite each other during breaks, eventhough separated by a couple of tables, and we would lovingly mouthed "I love you" throughouts, trying not to get caught by friends and gosh, blushing was working full-time during those periods.

His love for soccer means he would dedicate a simple 2 hour in which he would bring me along, should I have no homeworks to deal with. After that we would spent some time together exploring the adulthood. His kisses drove me crazy and his touch liquifies me. There was even 2 occasions that we decided to spent our nights together. 1st in his friend's house on a campnight and 2nd on a chalet outing. I was dizzy with love and sexual favours were aplenty despite not engaging in the full act.

All this time, we were living in our own world. In the safety bubble of love, I surrendered my love and time to be with him. He is all I talked about, he is all I lived for. Educations and real friends were not put aside, while families understood our relationship. Or they tried to understand, is more like it. School mates, especially the boys who were of my race, despised the fact that I did not choose my own race as a boyfriend, hated me. The girls of his race hated me for he picked me as his girlfriend. While the girls of my race, rejoiced the fact that I was not going to pick their kind of meat. But despite all, they kept mum, in fear of Chinese Boy's quite well-known fiery temper should they step on his toes.

There was an occasion, I remembered clearly, overlooking the veranda of my classroom, I saw his spit of anger. He tore off a book and threw it right in the face of another student. My heart stopped beating as I looked on, never seen that side of him. I became fearful as to why Mr Cool lost his cool, which was so unlikely him. The side that I was advised not to see, as per his friends. I did not probe further with this matter as fear overtook me. But soon after the incident, it was Valentine's Day. Bought him gifts to symbolise my love for him and gosh! we were still smitten. A couple necklace we wore proudly to symbolise our status together.

Till I was home and on the phone whispering sweet-nothings to him, my doorbell rang. Flipped I did, when I saw the boy whose face was the receiving end of the torn textbook. In fear, I still opened the main door to see him holding a beautiful bouquet of flower and a box of chocolate. He muttered his apologies for intruding and explained that the reason of the bust-up a couple of days back was of him spatting a racist remark about me to Chinese Boy. And as I giddily digested the information, he thrusted the bouquet into my hands and scooted off. I flipped the little card that came along, and looked for a signee. The signee said, "From someone you are talking to on the phone."

Tears flowed from the gesture as I mumbled my "I love yous" to the Chinese Boy. Touched was an understatement as I gazed at the beautiful bouquet of rose and kept thinking, "How the hell did I get this lucky?"

A couple of months fleeted by with no major arguments. Sadly, I felt him distancing later in the late year. Being young and naive, I took it all in my stride as long as he treated me nice, which undoubtfully he always was. Till the day he dropped a bombshell on me. He brought me aside and confessed to his feelings of me being non-committal. To him, I did not plan for a future. He felt that I took a step a day which he did not like. He felt that I was taking things for granted, which guiltily, I was. It was a hard slap to my face. I tried to voice my defense, but nothing came out. Even when he called off our relationship, I just stood there, unable to move, unable to talk. I was in shock. He touched my face for the final time and walked off. Never to come back. After coming back to Earth, I remember fleeing from the scene and tears flowed like a river, unable to stop them. My teacher came after me seeing me in a trauma as I locked myself in a washroom. I cried my eyes out till my teacher had to call in my parents and bring me for counselling.

A couple of sessions later, I grew strong enough to face school, to face the possible jeers from the girls who hated my luck and guts and prominently to face him, My Chinese Boy. I went in with an iron will not to break down each time I lay my eyes on him. My real friends pulled me through the very difficult times that I was near breakdowns. As time passed by, with his batch graduating, I held my head high to speak to him again. I overcome that sadness, that fear. I approached, I spoke and I conquered my own defeat. If we were not good as a couple, we were good as friends. But we did not even stay as friends as he led his own path as I did. Not crossing each other's path in that many years.

Never say never, I told myself. For that many years have passed, I still thought of My Chinese Boy fondly. The sweet memories despite being peppered with the dramatic exit, I still kept him close to my heart, somehow. As 7 years passed by, with no shadows even, by fate, we bumped into each other in a public bus service! How appropriate! My heart thumped as like the first time I set my eyes on his pin-like eye faced. Shock was he, seeing me, and shock was I seeing him. I felt like running to him and just nuzzling my face into his neck, like in the past. Time stood still for both of us till he broke the silence. We exchanged our pleasantries and expressed missing each other thinking that either of us have moved out of the country! What a sight! He offered to go for lunch but I had to decline as I had a prior engagement. With heavy heart I exitted the bus but not before we pinkied-swear our promise to meet again for a catch-up.

Come what may, we had a beautiful friendship till now. He ever expressed his longing to search for me after all these years but yet the fear of me rejecting him stopped him somehow. Not till he saw me smiling at him in that bus, then his fear diminished. By then, he knew that I have forgiven him. For the way he left my life, while I was still very much in love with him.

Even as he broached a possibilty of us coming back together and giving him a chance to take care of me, once again, like he did in the past, I stopped short of agreeing. I wanted to love him back like he does, but I want to be sure, I love him for who he is, not for the past that we had, not for the money he can spend on me nor the luxuries I will receive. I wanted to stay true to our love, if we had any.

Dear Jellyfish,
I have always loved you, despite all. You were my boyfriend then, and you are my friend now. Till death do us part, losing you again, is not what I planned for me and you.
Love always, Starfish