For Good

Last night he called me - the man I, once upon a time, considered to be The One, without even a hint of hesitation in my mind.

He texted me first, and I saw his name light up on my iPhone's screen as I pulled the phone out of my purse in the middle of the dance floor. I saw his name glow in the dark and I glanced at the 21 Year Old cautiously. Did he notice? Does he know that I was once in love with the man on my iPhone screen?

I ignored the text. I did not feel any trepidation that I might be resented or scolded for simply putting my phone back in the bag without replying. Actually... I felt nothing, no remorse, no butterflies, no anxiety.

The feeling was gone.

He tried contacting me again by calling me this afternoon on Skype (1am St. Louis time for him, 2pm for me), I picked up just to say hi. He wanted to "catch up" aka he wanted sex - a once routine transaction between him and me as we tried to keep the sparks of a withering relationship alive despite the distance. I starred at him blankly and firmly said no, and said no, and said no again.

"I like your hair," he said.

So what? You want me to take my bra off now in exchange for the compliment. You don't know me at all, do you?

The feeling was gone.

He always has a funny way of coming back in my life, this Mr J character - the once-upon-a-time love of my life - just as I start moving on with someone new. I never tell him about my new men. I don't owe him anything any more.

But this time I had to say that I wasn't gonna entertain the thought of flirtation. I was done and I had to move on for my own sanity's benefit. He didn't seem to understand, of course, but I didn't care this time.

The feeling was completely gone.

Am I sad that I let this love go by? Yes, a bit. But I had to do what I had to do. I could not stand waiting for him and watch myself age with every passing year, hoping that we would be together and that he would morph into a man I wanted him to be. At some point, frankly, my career became more important than him. That's when I decided to move to Singapore. That's when he still didn't get the point that I was trying my best to move on if he didn't change his ways.

So I moved on for good and, to be honest, this next chapter of my life is looking better than ever. Even without him being one of the main protagonists.

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Cake, and Eat It Too.

Sometimes people tell me I can't or shouldn't have something, but I just nod my head in agreement, "Yes, I think you are absolutely right, this is a stupid idea...", and then I continue doing it anyway. Because even though I know it's wrong, it, somehow and inexplicably, feels very right.

"No, you're right what am I thinking? I am as surprised with my actions as you are..." I say.

I say it but don't really mean it. The "what am I thinking" part. I know what I am thinking and I don't care if others might disagree. I want to do what makes me happy.

Sometimes I might see, or imagine that I am seeing, judging or confused glances from old Chinese women walking past us down the street. And sometimes, when a random guy attempts to hit on me at a bar and my younger guy comes back from the bathroom and wraps his hands around me with a smile, the random guy looks at me in, perhaps, disbelief and at him with, perhaps what I'd like it to be, envy.

Like, maybe... "How did you land this girl?"

And sometimes, I simply choose to have tunnel vision and shut my side eye to the world and walk down a Singapore street holding hands with the 21 Year Old in a complete state of bliss.

It feels good to let go of inhibitions, or preconceived notions and expectations. Even when it goes against my own expectations. Even when my mother says, "I will completely disapprove if you decide to seriously start dating someone younger", I just choose to ignore, ignore, ignore.

The way he treats me, the way he talks to me, looks at me... outweighs any doubts I might have about the longevity of this relationship. The fact that I am holding off on sex for the time being (trying to take it as slow as possible) and he is still sticking around after 8 weeks of seeing each other without so much as a single complaint is what is making me that much more impressed. Maybe this guy is for real and not just after bumping uglies and bailing.


Or maybe it's this eternal Singaporean summer and beach and sand and water and graceful palm trees that got my head spinning, thinking I am on an ever-ending vacation and can get away with anything, but I couldn't be any happier dating this guy.

I am not looking to meet guys at clubs any more, I've got someone who's offering me more than my previous ex - a 30-year old very established multimillionaire banker ever could.

He's offering me blissful happiness. At least for the moment.

Why, thank you, I'll take it.

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An Extended Romance

Surprisingly, the 21-year old and I are still going strong.

Needless to say, though, there are some issues that inevitably came up with the age difference.

1) The job situation: he just graduated from college (shoot me now) and he's got all the time in the world to worry about his career and stuff all the while he has a security blanket of his well-off parents to cover the expected and exuberant expenses that typically arise from a lifestyle of a young twenty-something. You know, booze, cabs, meals, dates (with me, nonetheless).

2) The outside perspective: when I broke my with my college ex ages ago, we managed to remain friends for a year or two afterwards. Consequently, he became comfortable telling me about his dates and his love conquests and there was this one time that he was out at a bar and he was hitting on this crying girl (why?!) and ended up getting her number. I asked about her age and he told me that she was 27. I remember thinking, why the fuck would a 27-year old even be interested in a 21-year old. Why the fuck would a 21-year old be attracted to a 27-year old. I found it a bit unsettling that the girl was so.... well, old.

Am I viewed as such in this guy's eyes or in the eyes of his friends, because, of course, they're not gonna say it to my face, just as my friends are not going to question me as to why I, all of the sudden, got this young dude tagging along with me everywhere I go. But I'm sure they wonder, and I'm sure they talk amongst themselves, and I'm sure they ask. And I have an issue with being labeled. And I feel like I am being labeled.

3) Our choices of places of leisure and entertainment: he teases me because I go places where "older" people go. You know, places with substance, places that serve fancy drinks in glasses made of real glass. I tease him because he chooses venues where all the "kids" go, where the booze is consumed in order to get fucked up (okay, I kind of like that and I kind of partake) and girls and guys are looking to hook up with the first pretty face that pays attention to them.

And I understand, I don't blame him or his friends or all the younger people for that matter; I've been there. But I'm just in a different, what I prefer to call, a more sophisticated place now. I like fancy tapas and vermouth and absinthe drinks that come from exotic regions of the world. I like discussing the architectural integrity of historical buildings of Singapore and the recent tsunami warnings in Indonesia and the stock market. I like making clever 90's pop culture references and I like when people actually get them. I can't ask the same from the 21-year old's friends. Why should I?

Then again, these are the differences that I foresaw before getting into any kind of emotional attachment and these are the differences that, as they arose, I am still willing to work through and tolerate. I'm having fun, what can I say, and no matter what it looks like to the outside world, I am going to continue doing what makes me happy.

It is the long-term possibilities and consequences that I still can't help but be worried about.

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Nothing But a Number

The revelation I am about to write below might or might not make you respect me a little less (leaving you with, possibly, not much to go off on from now on). At the very least, I bet I can make you raise your eyebrows at the situation. At the very least, I say.

I never subscribed to the philosophy that "age is just a number." Because it's a phrase most often uttered by middle-aged men (or older) in reference to the little bimbos they have acquired with the help of their office-provided Lambos and their brand new Ferragamos. I always resented older men walking down the street with cute little petite girls, holding hands and grinning from ear to ear. What can they possibly have in common, I thought? Why would they possibly want to spend time with one another for reasons other than sex and convenience?

I've always felt it was empowering but eyebrow-raising when older women dated younger men. A double standard, yes, but a double standard that most people adhere to to this day. Take Demi and Ashton. Yes, the bitch is unstable, but it seems almost certain that the playboy has been stepping out on Ms. Moore for quite some time. And even if he wasn't, look at how the whole saga ended.

And now I can't help by raise my own damn eyebrows at my own damn self. Because I am entertaining, nay, full-fledgedly living the "dream" of dating a boy seven years my junior.

Yes, ladies and gents, take a seat if you have been standing. This shit is about to get real.

The dude is barely 21 and I am fully in lust with him.

The night of a big Full Moon party at one of Singapore's premier beaches I was, what they might call it, flagged. Inebriated, wasted, gone. I do, however, distinctly remember seeing a gorgeous new Singaporean guy in the circle of my friends and I remember wondering why I hadn't seen him earlier.

He had wild hair, shorter in the back, with dark bangs with red highlights that swept across his forehead. He was a mix of Chinese and Indian and God knows what, and I was immediately attracted to his deep brown eyes.

If I hadn't been drunk, I would have never talked to him. And when I did start talking to him, and continued talking to him, and talked and talked until I was sober and then talked some more, I did not know his age. He looked in his early twenties but, to be fair, most Asian guys look younger than they are. Mid-twenties I suspected.

"You know, L, He's 21..." one of my guy friends finally cautioned me with a meaningful look at some point of the night. I looked back at him, pale with realization.

"Twenty. One?" I repeated in disbelief.

That did not prevent me, however, from continuing talking to the object of my affection and revealing my age. He was a bit taken aback that he was talking to someone older, nonetheless. I remember him say that it's refreshing to talk to someone older because he mostly talks to younger girls and he does not have much to talk to them about.

Great. So he dates 18 year olds. Don't I feel ancient.

I thought that was that. We parted our ways at the end of the night (well into the early morning) and as much as I wanted to kiss him or for him to kiss me, neither of the things happened. My fantasy dissipated with the rising sun and I was willing and ready to forget all about Mr. 21 as I drifted off to sleep in my bed at 7 in the morning.

But the next day... oh boy, the next day.

I woke up to find out that Mr. 21 sent me a friend request on Facebook, and so it began. From then on, we talked all day on Sunday, all day on Monday, he took me out on Tuesday and Wednesday. And now he's on the way to the States for the first time in his life and I am meeting him there in a week in the City of Brotherly Love to show him around town.

Coincidence or fate that we are going to be in the same American city at the same time?

Probably a coincidence. What am I doing with a 21 year old anyway?

There is something incredibly great about him. None of the baggage of the older guys I've been dating lately. None of the stress. Instant connection despite the age. No rushing into things. No immediate expectations.

Do I see this relationship as being a viable long-term thing? No. Do I see his or my parents approving? No. Do I see my friends not judging? No.

But I am infatuated and I guess my heart can bear getting hurt again. And maybe I need this. I need a sweet, lovely guy with a beautiful smile and even more beautiful eyes to sweep me off my feet and tell me that I am gorgeous, and breathtaking, and that he couldn't believe that I started talking to him in the first place.

Maybe age is just a number... after all.

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Of Rich Men and Their Dillusions

I received a text from a gentleman I got the mis-pleasure to briefly get acquainted with at a club last week. I must have mistaken his arrogance for interest, because it is the only excuse as to why I gave him my number in the first place and to a shitshow of a text I received from him, literally, minutes ago.

Let's keep in mind that the "gentleman" is, allegedly, 31 years old, so proper spelling, you would think, should be a must. However....

"I can make you laugh alot. I am not serious and quite talkative. And after few drinks i can talk even more. I am naughty and would love to see you soon.

I have seen that you are taller than me still i wanted to go for you coz i feel like it and i have no objections with that but may be you will feel strange dating a man shorter than you. I love wine and i can take you to wine connection at Robertson quay or else at screening room. You will enjoy with me as i have a taste for white girls from US. Don't ask me why... but i have to be honest here that i don't date locals here so its been a while i have been on a date.

And yeah i am spontaneous and quite open minded. A spend thrift and does not care for money and finances.

Life is small and we must live it to fullest. Do you get drunk often?? I do get drunk if i am with a beautiful girl like you or a like minded company to go out with.

My work place is at Tg Pagar, lets meet one day after i return from shanghai (business trip)"

I, of course, just HAD to response to this exhibit of pure, unadulterated Shakespearean poetry:

"Hi there, with all due respect you seem like an intelligent and very driven individual, but I am getting a feeling from your text that we are not looking for quite the same thing.

I understand that some women are attracted to financial stability and the prospect of "getting stuff for free", but I can very well hold my own. Rather, I am looking for something that is more genuine and it is very hard to find in a city like Singapore. I do, however, know with certainty that I will not find ANYTHING genuine with you. Have a nice day. "

Yeah, yeah... I kept it surprisingly level-headed. I had to. One of us had to be the grown up in the situation and it sure as hell wasn't this cretin of a human being.

Can't help but laugh at shit like this though, right?

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Enough.

I usually pride myself on being a strong, rational, level-headed individual. But, lately, it has not been so. At all.

Somewhere down the line, I lost myself... Between getting over Mr J, dating The Banker, and making out with the rebound guy, I lost sight of the most important thing. And that thing is caring about MY well-being.

Sure, I work hard and I've got goals and I'm doing everything in my power to reach them. But in my personal life, I have completely neglected the person I've always wanted to become.

Instead, I am shallow, vapid, clingy, neurotic, angry, cynical, moody, and irrational. I look to men to be my distraction, my entertainment. And then I fall for them and I know it's because.... I'm freaking bored and afraid of ending up alone. I am just a mess and I don't know how this happened but, somehow, I arrived at a breaking point.

I can't do this to myself any longer. I can't do this to my heart or what's left of it. The only thing I can remain proud of is that I still have the will power left to not have random one night stands and to make my love interests wait for a long time before there's even a possibility of having sex with me. But still, this doesn't prevent them from playing with my heart like it's some useless toy.

This morning, due to various circumstances, I woke up feeling severely damaged and bruised. I just couldn't get out of bed and go to work, I still can't.

I called in sick and now I am lying here, trying to piece myself together. I think, everything came to a boiling point and now it's becoming painfully obvious that I am my worst enemy. If I self-destruct, I have no one to blame but myself.

So I'm getting a hold of the situation.

I cannot let men hurt me any more. I can't let my vibrant, joyful, terrific self get lost in the vapid faces of people who repeatedly lie and cheat and hurt me. I can't believe I let myself get to this point because I really do feel emotionally spent and disappointed in humanity.

But I have no one to blame but myself.

So I ended it with the rebound guy this morning (he didn't seem too heart broken about it. I bet he is just fine..). I am taking time for myself. I am not going to drink for a while, I am not going to date for a while.

I need to put myself first and be selfish for once. I need to be healthy, need to find my own stability and let genuine, good people into my life. I am tired of being disappointed, of being angry. I want to be surrounded by people who don't have a hidden agenda, or want to use me the first chance they get.

I need to be by myself for a while. For my own sake.

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Other Options

The club is loud, crowds are obnoxious, music is crashing over my shoulders with its thunder and beats, my head is hurting from too much (or not enough) alcohol and I am standing with a slightly aloof look on my face, looking for friends amidst the throngs of other club-goers.

My rebound, (is that what I should call him?), was just spinning on the ones and twos, but now he is done with his set for a bit. I see him, out of the corner of my eye, making his way towards me with, I can only assume, his best girl friend that he mentioned to me once or twice before. Oh, here we go with the introductions.

He gives me a brief hug and introduces the girl, " This is A., my best friend I told you about. You ladies should get acquainted." He gives me another friendly squeeze and goes off schmoozing with DJs and promoters. Great, now I'm fucking stuck making small talk with this girl.

"He told me so much about you. He seems to really like you," the girl says with a wink.

"Really? He told you about me?" I am a bit surprised but kind of happy. We've only known each other for three weeks after all. But then again, best friends tell each other everything.

She seems slightly inebriated but still coherent. And considering that it is now well past 2 o'clock in the morning, I feel like I should be just as inebriated as well.

"Shots?" I offer and within minutes we are served two helpings of that beautiful poison some people call Jagermeister.

"So what do you think about him?" the girl continues. I guess she is fishing for something, so I have to be choosing my words carefully. After all, every word I say to her will, for sure, get back to the rebound guy.

"You know... I like him. I just think, and I told him this... I just think that I need to take things slow. I don't like getting hurt, of course, no one does. But I just don't want to be in that position again," I tell her frankly.

"Oh of course, and that's the way to do it with him," she pulls me in closer, as if she is about to tell me a secret, "I have to be honest with you, and I will say this as a girl to a girl, because I am on your side with this..."

I perk up and just nod.

"He talks about you all the time but you must take things slow with him," she repeats herself once again but then goes on, "All I have to say is that he has other options, so you have to be very careful. He likes you but he has other options, ya know..."

I nod some more and take things in. It's three in the morning now and, somehow, I feel a sudden urge to leave.

"I have to find my friends, I will be back," I tell the girl and, basically, sort of just storm out of the club.

The timber decking of the river deck where the club is located sounds especially loud as I stomp down it to the taxi stand with my heels. Several onlookers take notice and look at me in bewilderment. I bypass the guestlist stand, the hosts, the bouncers and take a detour to have a quick smoke by the river, where no one would take notice of my fury.

Other options. Excuse me? What kind of other options does he have?!

"Well, I"ll make his decision a little easier... He can have those other options because he sure as hell can't have me," I mumble under my breath.

The perfectly manicured palm trees around me are still in the quiet solitude of a tropical night. I hear a very faint sound of house music from the club which is now far away behind me in the distance. I take another drag of a cigarette and let the anger and sober realization sink in.

The drunk girl was only trying to help me. She was honest after all and my rebound guy is not in the wrong in any way to keep his options open. After all, it's only been three weeks. Everyone has options. They have to if they are just dating around. Even I have options, I just like to pretend that my objects of interest don't think about anyone but me. Which is, of course, absurd.

But why the hell should I care anyway? For now, he is just a rebound. Rebounds can have as many options as they want. I have my own row of available selections as well...

Okay, maybe I don't.

But if anything, what the girl told me last night will keep me in check so I don't get carried away with my new adventure. I can't do anything about his other options, I just have to make sure I have options to fall back on as well.

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