Sunday, July 31, 2011

Where Did You Go, Love?

I'm gonna try and make it my first blog post with a video snippet. This is what I did last night. You can hear The Banker and I in the background talking...


video


Basically, to make a long story not so long, I am getting about neck deep in this shit-filled lake of juggling two guys on two different sides of the world. I can't get the courage to confess about what I am doing to either of the men and, as bizarre as it might sound, a part of me is hoping that I get called out on my devious doings by one of the dudes, so the final decision is made for me.

Now that was a paragraph that I'd never thought I'd type in my entire life.

And with the double life that I am leading right now, well, I am just hoping that I have more time to figure out if The Banker likes me for me (cause, honestly, I still think he's hiding something) or if Mr J can handle us being apart for two years. It's this double life... it's becoming so polarizing, a game of two extremes. The extravagant lifestyle beyond my wildest dreams by weekend and a homely version of (almost) playing house with Mr J that I am living during the week.

Last night, it's dinner, drinks, bottle service... with The Banker and his finance friends. Flirting over vodka drinks, dancing suggestively with my dude du jour.... deliberate hand touching, hips swinging in his direction, body heat between us... Music, enveloping us in its seductive spell.... Me, forgetting for the nth time about the other man on the other side of the world... Giving into the temptation that is right in front of me, like a dangling carrot.

The Banker, taking my hand and whispering in my ear if I want to get out of the club... Me, in a half-dazed state, nodding, smiling, brushing the strands of my hair off my face in an attempt to look sexy before I tighten the grip of my fingers around his hand and follow him outside into the warm night...

Late night making out... clothes falling on the floor...

I wish I could say it was all unplanned and not premeditated. But I would be lying. I knew damn well what I was doing.

And this afternoon, a different story. Skyping for three hours with Mr J...

"So you found some new friends in Singapore? You're hanging out with investment bankers now, you say? Anyone flirting with you?" He asks me with a not-so-subtle hint of jealousy in his voice.

"Yeah, sometimes... but I brush them off..." I say. I look so convincing in my mirror image on Skype.

"So there are no other guys in your life? Does that mean you still like me and wanna make this work? You're not gonna cheat on me, are you?"

"No, there are no other guys..." I feel like a fool, trying to convince him of something that I know is a lie, "But are we even together at this point? With all the fighting we've been doing lately, I am confused..."

"Yeah, we're together. Of course, we're together..." he says. He seems so sincere and tender and I see the unspoken love in his eyes. It's 2am on a Saturday night in Chicago, and he's talking to me. He doesn't care about any other women... I know it for a fact.

I think he loves me. I think I am getting what I've been asking for for the last 2.5 years.

Except now I am not so sure that I want it any more....

Saturday, July 23, 2011

My Heart Full of Deceit


I'm being a bad fucking person these days. And excuse the following, profanity-peppered post, but this is what I do when I'm in distress. I curse.

Funny thing is, I wrote this whole long post that I am about to rewrite from memory earlier today and when I clicked "Publish Post", the whole thing got erased. It's like even this blog doesn't want to be associated with my insanity.

But I need to get this off my chest, otherwise, I feel like I'm going to lose my marbles for good.

It's just that.. I've always followed rules when it came to dating. Not even rules, but more like guidelines. Never fall for two people at the same time, never date one guy right after another, don't do anything but kiss on the first three dates, be upfront and honest, etc etc. But apparently, the fucking rules are out of the window on this little island or, at least, the rules no longer apply.

How was I supposed to know, when I met The Banker for our first date at the alley bar, that I'd actually start falling for him?

Regardless of what I expected or didn't expect, I should have told Mr J that I needed space and time to cool things with him and that I wanted to date other people. But I'm a fucking coward because here I am, three dates deep with The Banker and having him - this seemingly-wonderful, sexy, funny, smart as hell man - telling me that I am a girl like no other, and I still haven't told Mr J about any of the high-jinks I've been up to.

Why haven't I been upfront up to this point? Why am I still not upfront even as this sting of guilt is beginning to weigh down on my conscience more and more with every passing day?

I know why. Because Mr J has been less than pleasant with his refusal to tell me that he misses me because "it's no use to talk about emotions while we are half the world apart". Because his incessant fear/controlling behaviour over what I am doing and am I "hooking up" with people has reached a boiling point way before I even met The Banker.

I know why. Because I am selfishly looking out for MY best interest... Because I am still not sure if The Banker is for real and all of his wining and dining has been happening because he is genuinely smitten by me or if he is just waiting to sleep with me and be done with it.

I mean, like yesterday, I was sitting in this five-star Mario Batali restaurant, and as cultured, sophisticated and classy as I consider myself to be, I felt like the whole experience was so beyond and out of my league. My legs were nervously shaking as I was picking my $40 "first course" and hesitating which $70 "second course" I wanted to order, all the while sipping on $200 wine. And there he was, across the table from me, with a million-dollar smile and the most beautiful deep hazel eyes I had ever seen. It was so out of my league but it was more than perfect.

This man, I don't care how rich he is, cannot be just doing all of this just because he is smitten. If he's smitten. I don't care how attractive he thinks I am, I'm sure he could buy anything and anyone if he wanted, so why me? Is he trying to buy me, which would be absolutely vomit-inducing in my book? Or is he so fascinated with my boring chitter-chatter about architecture and construction documents that I blabbered on and on about during our dinner? Fucking yawn.

With all of this out of the way, I have no excuse to keep leading Mr J and to lie to The Banker. I don't care whether the latter is an international playboy or a truly one-in-a-million absolutely genuine, incredible guy that he seems to be.

I just can't seem to bring myself to tell Mr J the truth. We've been on and off and doing this hamster wheel game for 2.5 years now and there is no end in sight, that is unless I put an end to it now. But I loved or love or something.... him and a part of me knows that it is way too soon to jump from one man to another.

I sicken myself thinking than only 45 days ago I was helping Mr J with his web site, making plans with him to come visit me for Christmas when I fly home from Singapore. Only 45 days ago I was so, so, so into loving him even though the word love was never said once.

But another part of me wants, wants, WANTS what another man seems to now be so willingly wanting to bring to the table. It wants what I couldn't ever get with Mr J. Affection, companionship, proximity. And in order to have this from The Banker, I have to move on from Mr J.

This is a fucked up mess and I don't see a clean way out. No matter what I do from now on, I will be a cold-hearted bitch in someone's eyes.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

In Which I Find Out the Answer...


It's crowded at the bar and our bottle of Grey Goose nearly falls on the floor, after some random accidentally brushes her elbow against it. I am surrounded by people from all walks of life - Singaporeans, sure, but also Chinese, Australian, American, European men and women. The music is loud and everyone is basically yelling at each other, trying to scream over Neyo's "Give Me Everything Tonight".

Out of the corner of my eye I notice a girl in a neon pink wig pour vodka straight out of a bottle and into the mouth of her friend wearing a while veil. Bachelorette party, nothing shocking there expect that they're all doing it on the dance floor, right next to the sign that says "No drinking on the dance floor."

I look back to our table, to The Banker and his friends. He smiles at me and asks if I want to dance. I nod and as we walk toward the dance floor he reached back and grabs my hand with his. I look around, did anyone see this? Did he just make a move on me? Are we on a date?

A few hours later, as we walk up the riverfront to the taxi stand, he asks me if I'd like to go have a drink at his place. I've already had one too many, but I have a feeling this is not just about having one more drink.

"My place is only five minutes away, we can walk there," he says casually.

It's 4am and much too late to be doing anything, but there is something that prevents me from telling him that I just want to go home and get some beauty sleep. His place is only five minutes away, after all, and I want to check it out. I feel the butterflies in my stomach and I can't tell if it's the warm eternal-summer air or him that's making me feel the way I'm feeling. I have a pretty good idea, though, that summer air alone is not capable of wrapping me up in a blanket of infatuation like this.

We get to The Banker's place and it's huge, especially by the Singaporean standards since rent is so expensive on this island. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a wrap-around balcony and a scenic view of the new residential high-rises and little restaurants and shops at the waterfront nearby - this place has just about everything. The Banker cracks open a bottle of wine and we settle in the comfy lounge chairs on the balcony.

"It's hard to meet a girl like you.... and it's a bonus that you are HOT," he actually stresses the word hot as he just drops a bomb like that, in the midst of our conversation about interior design and the like.

Say whaaaa? I'm stomped and I'm glad it's dark enough on the balcony that he can't see that I'm blushing.

"So was this a date then?" I ask.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should never even attempt this thing called "flirting".

But surprisingly, he nods and then pulls my chair closer to him and goes in for a kiss.

I think I got an answer to my question.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

A Date or Not a Date?


Why is it that the popular myth states that WOMEN are the complicated ones?

Maybe I am the only woman in the history of the world who's ever thought this out loud, or at least let it out in a blog, but I can't figure men out for the life of me!

Like the dating situation. You'd think, I am, after all, twenty seven years old and have dated plenty of frogs and princes in my twenty-something life. I've loved exactly (probably) twice in my life and I even had the misfortune to live with one of the exes for three months.

However, I have yet to learn the very basics of men's behavior. Like, how to recognize when a guy is interested in you and, most recently, how to figure out whether I am going on a date or not.

So this new guy, The Banker... he seems different from the rest thus far. For one, he is making me feel all those things I haven't felt for any of my other casual dating partners. The thought of him is actually making me, gasp, smile! I recognized this feeling all too easily when it came over me for the first time on Sunday - I was developing a crush.

The Banker and I had drinks at a quaint little wine bar, sneakily tucked into the depths of a Singaporean side street. It was all so very casual, but I kept catching myself not being able to take my eyes off his eyes, his smile. I was fairly captivated, intrigued by what he had to say. Our conversation was effortless - instant commonalities in every aspect of our pretty different life experiences. I felt like we clicked and then some.

But I couldn't be absolutely sure.

Upon his offer towards the end of the night that we should get together again, perhaps for dinner, I wholeheartedly agreed. The little schoolgirl in me jumped giddily in excitement.

"Ooh, ooh! I can't wait, I can't wait until I hear from him again!" she was squealing in my ear in pure delight.

The next day, much to my delight, The Banker made contact by sending me a text message that followed up on a conversation we had over drinks. I responded back with something rather generic but was still a little let down when he didn't text anything else.

On Tuesday, I tried to stay calm as best as I possibly could. I turned my iPhone off in the evening as to avoid the temptation to text The Banker. I occupied myself by playing Angry Birds, by checking my email, by trying to find the pesky gecko that decided to make my room his home. To no avail.

At around 9pm, my fingers involuntarily and without any permission from my brain typed:

"So, any plans for this weekend?"

Oh sure. Plans. Any plans for this weekend? Trying to act casual but who was I kidding? There was not an ounce of casual in that frantic text message. Super.

I didn't hear from him until two hours later. Two hours that felt like two years, mind you. But he finally responded! He texted back with:

"You beat me to it! How about meeting up Saturday afternoon? If you like outdoorsy stuff and are fine with heights, we can check out the Treetop Walk. Otherwise, we can beat the heat at a museum you haven't been to yet."

We had a brief text conversation after that, where basically I could hardly contain my excitement over the impending course of events but acted polite and cordial by saying that yes, in fact, the Treetop Walk sounds like a lot of fun. Our text exchange concluded with him texting, "Looking forward to it. I think it'll be a lot of fun!"

I won't read into this. Even though I already have 1001 outcomes in my head of how this trip to the Treetop Walk could possibly go. Basically, I want a freaking date out of this. I want the damn Treetop Walk to BE the date. But is it? And how can I tell?

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is a prime example of how a twenty-seven year old can revert back to being fifteen, in a quick blink of an eye.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Dating Dilemmas


I did it. I had my first date in Singapore.

Well, I think it was a date. It was all so freaking uncertain. After all, I didn't meet him at a club where it's instantly known whether the attraction is there or not. He's like the CEO of the universe but before you start thinking of me as one of THOSE girls, let it be known, he's only 29. Not much older than me.

He's not Mr J, but he's a dashingly good looking American banker and he lives in Singapore. From what I've gathered he's allegedly ridiculously rich, but honestly, what I care about right now is that he's ridiculously handsome and charming.

He reminds me of an ex who broke my heart, brutally and dishonestly, about three years ago. The fleeting romance with that piece of crap left scars on my heart for a while and I had to work my butt off to completely heal the wounds of a heartbreak. My heart is healed, thank you very much, but the cautious part of me is forever under alert, in case another one of these dirt bags decides to come around my way.

So where was I... the good-looking American... he seemed into me. It was hard to tell though - there were no obvious signs coming from him, except that I'm pretty sure that he looked at my boobs (not so discretely) a couple of times. Oh well. Not like I minded, I guess, but also it's not like it made things any clearer for me.

At the end of the night, in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Singapore, we said good night to each other. He was standing up right and his smile was plastered all over his face. He was freaking cute and I wondered if it wasn't for this busy street, if he'd attempt to kiss me.

"Would you like to get together sometime again? Maybe have dinner?" he said as we were waiting for his cab.

Have dinner. It's all I have to go on, deciding whether he likes me or not. Sure it seems like a good sign. But maybe he was just saying that to be polite and I will never hear from him again after tonight.

It also seems like I'm rushing into things, like I am letting this lust take over me and cloud my eyes so that I momentarily forget about Mr J.

But at the same time I want this new guy to call me. It's been a very long time since I wanted any guy besides Mr J to call me. This... this just might be BIG.

Now I have to wait and find out if the attraction is mutual. Fuck. This is the worst part of dating.