I'm Not Yours

And a thousand of lanterns, their flames slowly glowing against the thin rustling paper, ascended up to the night skies of Patong beach, their peaceful, soft glow interrupted by a chaotic thunder of fireworks all around us. The crowds cheered like crazy, camera phones in their extended hands, trying to capture the last moments of 2011, only to post them later on Facebook or replay them to the friends that were not there.

He was an Australian, staying at our hostel for a couple of nights, traveling from Melbourne, and then to Singapore, Hanoi. Patong beach was his last stop of the holiday vacation. It was the last stop for all of us staying at the hostel. We started off the night as a large, international group but as we took random roads and routes, trying to get through the masses to the beach to welcome 2012, it was just me and the Australian left.

"Tell me the truth, do you like me?" he asked twenty minutes before midnight as he handed me a bouquet of roses that he bought from some random Swedish girl on the street.

I was surprised and flattered by the question. When I first saw him at the hostel bar, the life of the party, I envied his confidence and wondered what it would be like to talk to this guy, to be part of that crowd. And now here I was, with him, unexpectedly, wrapped around my little finger for the night.

"To tell you the truth," I said, "I do but I am dating someone."

We stood in our awkwardness and both felt compelled to say something to each other even though we were surrounded by throngs of screaming, celebrating people and would not hear each other anyway.

"What do you mean by dating?" he finally said. We both knew what I meant.

"You know what I mean..." I looked down at the roses. Their tiny delicate buds looked so fragile that all I wanted to do was to shield them from the people around us. I felt almost out of place standing there, with a simple bouquet of romantic appreciation in my hand, while everyone else around me was holding and imbibing from alcohol containers of various sizes.

"Does he ever give you flowers?" he asked, minutes before midnight.

No, he never gives me flowers. I don't ask him to but I wish he would. Just give me flowers once. No fancy dinners, just flowers. Truth is, I wanted to say, I am starving for affection and don't know how to ask for it. Feel like I have no right to ask for it, somehow. There is nothing like wanting to fall in love and being too afraid to, because of the fear of getting hurt at the end.

"No, he never gives me flowers," I said.

He shook his head. Not accusingly, not indifferently, but mostly just selfishly proud of himself for doing something in the first few hours of meeting me that my dude has not done in the months that I've known him.

"Kiss me," he said.

"You know I can't," I paused, "Not now."

"Then kiss me at midnight. Just one kiss."

There were moments left until the clock struck twelve. I had remnants of silly strings in my hair, my shoes were filled with sand, I clenched the strap of my purse in my hand, paused in some nervous thought. He was some Australian I would never see again, albeit a very handsome Australian, he was just a stranger on a beach somewhere in Thailand.

So I kissed him. Just once, when it struck midnight. And then once again a few minutes later.

A few stolen kisses. Something to escape the real world outside of the beach. Something to stop myself from thinking about The Banker all the goddamn time, while hoping for more, more than I am being offered.

And all around me it was 2012 all of the sudden. I wanted to never leave that place and to leave it immediately, all at the same time.

Happy new year.

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Today.

What prompts us to decide that 'TODAY' will be the first day of the rest of our lives?

Could it be something monumental, like a realization that the way we're doing things is not really working? Is it a promise to ourselves to live lives differently, to change those things that we dislike about ourselves, to try harder to get to the goals we've once set?

To me, it's a refresher and renewal of a vow that I have to do persist with my goal to something big, while I am still on this planet. So, today, I woke up and decided that 'TODAY' is going to be the first day of the rest of my life.

It has to start with small steps... trying to work even harder at work (I've got a big museum meeting tomorrow where I plan on dazzling the senior curator with my knowledge), trying to get some writing gigs (I so desperately want to be a legit writer some day), trying to sort things out on a personal side (which might be the trickiest thing of all).

And I am already getting myself ready for my first big reward (something that will keep me motivated). My first Christmas ever that will be spent away from freezing temperatures and parkas and next to or right on some of the most pristine beaches in the world.

I will be dropping it all in December and going to Thailand for a beach lounging, elephant riding, cocktail drinking, deep-water diving adventure. I mean, how can you go wrong with a view like this:


Forget money troubles, men, drama. Forget everything because this, ladies and gentlemen, is my ultimate version of paradise. And if I can get this piece of heaven for ten days staight... well, I'll take it with a cherry on top.

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Dating in Singapore..

So it's my second day here, in Singapore, trying out this wonderful country (er, city-state?) and I've got some red flags going off in my head.

No, the red flags aren't about the scorching heat - I actually find this hot weather to be quite manageable due to plenty of air-conditioned spaces. The red flags also aren't about my fear of the locals not speaking any English - most people, thus far, are friendly enough and are willing to switch from whatever language they are speaking to accommodate my English. All of the signage and quite a few TV channels are in English as well.

My fear isn't about the lack of shopping. I've been to one mall thus far and the amount of STUFF that I saw that I need to buy immediately (dresses, shoes, sushi shaped like cute animals...) is unprecedented. Seriously, no wonder that one of the favorite national pass times here is shopping. It could easily become my one and only pass time as well!

My fear is about dating in Singapore... or the seeming lack thereof. So, I consider myself to be pretty, educated, smart and so on and so forth but I just don't know if there are any out-of-towners or "expats" that can share common interests with me.. or will be able to talk about football, or arts, or architecture with me.

Another thing is, from what I've read of various forums thus far, is that a lot of "Western" men prefer local girls because they have a reputation of being highly impressionable by wealth or charm and tend to be easy. They also, or so I've read, don't mind dating guys who are already in relationships. One dirtbag wrote on a forum board, "I usually tell girls that I have a girlfriend, even when I am single. That way I can keep things casual."

I don't want to generalize here, because I have next to no knowledge of the local women, or the locals in general, but this is kind of alarming to me. Am I giving up on dating all together here? Can I do this, at the age of 27... can I dedicate the next several years of my life to all-work and no-play?

Mr J and I are still keeping it casual, but will be staying in touch. I could use this as a motivation to "wait for him", until I end up moving back to the States, some day. But no dating at all? Are the men here really vapid and are the women really floozies?

Of course, I don't mean any disrespect to the local population and I pray that all I've heard so far is just simply not true. But man, those message boards are either brutally honest or super mean.

The more tragic part, though, is that alcohol seems to be freaking expensive here! While discussing my potential benefits package, I should propose an alcohol fund! I mean $13 for a bottle of wine ON SALE?! Where are those $4 Parisian bottles of wine when I need them...

YIKES!

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An American in Singapore

My trial 2 week trip to Asia is coming up in roughly two weeks.

During those two weeks, there are several things that I hope to find the answer to:

-Will I enjoy my stay in Singapore enough to decide to call it my permanent home?

-Will I be able to stand the tropical weather without my allergies acting up? (Oh boy, do I sound old here)

-Will the locals be friendly?

-Will I find my new work environment challenging, creative and fulfilling enough to take this position?

-Will I be offered a good salary? (So far, there's a quite wide range of salary options out on the table for discussions...)

And, arguably, most importantly of all:

-Will I be able to deal with the decision that I am leaving the only current potential for love in my life to relocate half-way around the world?

I hope to find the clear-headedness and wisdom to make all the right decisions under this pressure. And I really REALLY hope I can make Singapore my home.

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Lost in Translation

A friend of mine got a job and worked in Italy over the summer at this architecture firm. She found the job at the very last minute, was very uncertain as to whether to accept the opportunity or not, as originally she wanted to stay in the US. But she finally caved in, seeing as there were no other offers, and decided to go to Italy - knowing almost no Italian at all.

When she returned home in September, the first thing that she told everyone about was her very new, very Italian, very non-English speaking boyfriend. She was head over heels in love, though her Italian, according to her own accounts, hardly improved at all over the summer. She told me that it was very difficult to communicate with the guy, but she was willing to take Italian classes during the school year to improve.

She also told me that she was willing to relocate to Italy for permanent residence after finishing school in June. I believe, the M-word (marriage) was dropped in the conversation a couple of times. And as fantastically romantic as this whirlwind relationship sounded, I could not help but ask myself if my friend and the Italian had anything more in common than the commonly-shared infatuation with each other's foreign accents.

Being in a long-distance relationship is tough, but being in a relationship with someone who doesn't even speak your language is... foolish? I bit my tongue, of course, and kept my skepticisms to myself. There is nothing you can do or say to get a person to fall out of love, I knew that much.

The Italian boyfriend flew out to the United States to meet the girl's family over Christmas break. My friend was very excited as she was certain that this visit would solidify her relationship with the Italian and take things to the next level.

Instead, the visit put everything in question. I suppose, I will never know the whole story but it seems as though my friend's family was not too crazy about the guy and the guy was not too crazy about the potential idea of moving to the States in order to be with my friend, even though initially my friend was more than willing to relocate for love in order to be with the Italian.

A part of me wonders if I would ever be capable of falling in love with someone who does not speak my language at all. Is real, genuine love even possible when all the attraction is based on looks and giggly moments of trying to communicate with each other despite the language barriers over a bottle of wine?

Sure, it sounds like fun for a fling. Rachel, from Friends, had a great FLING with an Italian guy she met during the blackout in her apartment building. But, ultimately, no matter how amazing the sex was, she chose Ross at the end. She simply got bored of smiling as a primary form of communication.

My friend is no longer sure if she wants to leave her family and friends behind and move to Italy to be with the Italian, the M-word is no longer mentioned during conversations. In fact, she is not sure if she can continue the relationship for much longer.

But I almost feel like saying, "What relationship?"

Sounds to me like it was just a summer fling.

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Je Ne Parle Pas Francias?

I am packing it up to jet away to the city of never-dying romance and croissants for an entire week. Paris, here I come!! Business (I will be interviewing an architect for a magazine I work for - I'm talking... this will be my entrance to the big leagues of the writing world, without ever getting a degree in journalism) and pleasure (I will be visiting a friend who is interning at a French firm) combined, I expect this trip to be both overwhelming and exhilarating.

Knowing absolutely no French at all, I purchased a pocket English/French phrasebook and carefully wrote down the French translation for "I don't speak French, I speak English" in the empty Notes section in the back of the book. I have a feeling I will be using that phrase a whole LOT. I also printed out maps, maps and more tiny little maps, upon which I scribbled notable attractions and points of interest. Of course, with so many places that need to be visited, I need to be careful to not overextend myself on drinking too much wine during my, sure to be, numerous nights out. My hangovers have been getting more severe lately - I think it's cause I am getting older - and I cannot afford to spend an entire day in a hotel bed, when there is so much beauty to be seen.

My friends and Mr. January instructed me on not speaking to anyone at the airport and the metro. Mr. J scared me with some stories of two girls being picked up at Charles de Gaulle airport and being sold into slavery. Sweet, it's not like I was already a little apprehensive of meeting French men with curly hair who do not know the importance of using deodorant.

Despite the warnings and my complete lack of knowledge of the French language, I have no doubts that this will be an adventure that I will remember for the rest of my life. With all the upcoming sight seeing, partying, dining and debauchering, my only regret is that Mr. J won't be there to experience it all with me. After all, what a perfect setting it would be for us to explore the romance capital of the world, before he goes away to law school. Oh well... maybe someday, if we'e still dating and have the money, I will let him propose to me atop of the Eiffel Tower. Hell, I will let anyone propose to me at the Eiffel Tower - just feed me a bucket of wine first.

But I think I am getting ahead of myself just a little bit here.

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