What More

It's a bit hazy and groggy here; the sun is setting past the roof ridges of shop houses and I empty out an ice cold Heineken into a chilled glass. Ah, Thursdays. A necessary prerequisite to Fridays.

I've been living my life on a whim here, telling myself that this is my vacation without it being a vacation. Despite it being exactly one year since I've moved to Singapore, I am still treating it as an exotic, tropical country with beaches and sand and men who make it their business to invade my private beach naps a bit too often for my liking.

Yet, it's been a year and my friends back home are busy getting engaged and getting married and what not. I feel grateful that I am not feeling the pressure to settle down but I am also feeling slightly worried. Like, am I ever going to feel the urge to settle down or am I always going to be one of those people on the move, treating every new country as my personal holiday.

Not that there is anything wrong with that. It's just that, I don't know, maybe I am not getting any younger and maybe I should care about things like getting married?

I am enjoying this all too much though. My job, my life, my weekend subway rides to the beach. It's all so convenient, so resort-y, so detached from the real world. I am living in La-La Land and I'm fucking loving it. Even my boyfriend, for Christ's sake, is just too good to be true.

The question is: can I live like this forever?

Right now, I am not doubtful that I can. But what if one day I wake up and my vacation is over. What then?

Continue reading →

The L-Word, Deconstructed

I've always been cautious about saying the three-letter phrase. So many people use it so carelessly and nonchalantly, after all; I wanted to be the one to set an example for all. I only said "I love you" to a total of two men in my life, despite having dated, seriously and casually, a whole lot more than two in my life.

It was just that.... when the 21 Year Old told me he loved me in person, shortly after he texted me all about it... it was as if the flood gates of affection had opened up. The Red Sea had parted, the doves ascended to the sky, and the L-word, that I so much feared to throw around casually, entered my vocabulary like it was my new favourite thing to say.

Yes, I said "I love you back" when he told me he loved me in person. And after that blood-coughing incident a few weeks ago, I felt even more of a need to say it, right then and there. Just in case I didn't have that much time to wait.

And I felt happy, and safe and fantastic when he wrapped his arms around me in gratitude. And since then, I've said "I love you" to the 21 Year Old probably more than I had ever said it to anyone prior to meeting him.

It feels amazing to say it. And liberating. And blissful. And all of those things that I wanted to feel but did not want to give into fully.

"I love you" is my new favourite phrase. With all the abandon that I think I deserve for once, this freedom makes me feel amazing.

Sometimes it's that someone who you would least expect to make you happy, that actually does make you feel like you're on top of the world.

Continue reading →

Will You, Tomorrow?

Last night I woke up in a feverish state. The air conditioning was on full blast so it wasn't the hot air of the tropics nor the stuffiness of my room that was making me sweat in my sleep.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, looked in the mirror. I looked like shit and I winced at the sight of my own skin, with the imprints of the folds of my pillow still on my right cheek. Why was I awake anyway at this ungodly hour?

I coughed and spit into the sink, casually, to clear my throat. I washed my mouth with a minty-fresh mouth rinse and looked down to spit the liquid out.

But before I could do that, I stopped. There were blood clots in my sink.

I coughed again to see if the blood was really coming from inside of me, and there it was again at the bottom of my sink. Small little chunks of blood.

Suddenly, I was wide awake. How did this happen? Have I done anything to hurt my stomach lately? I've been on a short self-imposed health kick, so I haven't had a drop of alcohol or soda in just about a week. I've been eating a lot more greens and even forcing myself to chow down a small breakfast every morning, despite my absolute abhorrence of breakfasts.

A quick Google search only heightened my alarmed state. Strangers were suggesting that the blood clots could be anything from an ulcer to cancer. Fucking cancer? No way. Not me.

I dressed in the middle of the night and texted a cab to rush me to the hospital. On my way there, I had to deal with racing thoughts. Have I lived my life to its fullest? Have I loved enough? Do the ones I love know that I love them? Do the ones I care about going to care if I am suddenly gravely ill?

I thought of how much misfortune an unexpected sickness can bring. What if my employer does not value me any more because I will always have to call out sick? What if my dude decides that I am too much of a burden to deal with? What if my parents get grief-stricken and will want me to come home?

I didn't want to find out the answers to these questions just yet. I wasn't prepared to deal with the heavy shit, right then and there, at 4 o'clock on a Saturday morning.

The doctor's observation was vague and not completely reassuring.

"This might be caused by stress... but we will not know for sure now. We can do a conservative treatment, give you some medication and see if your condition improves in a week. Or we can do something more aggressive and do an endoscopy to check for ulcers."

I chose the more conservative option. No need to go batshit crazy with worries just yet. Maybe I shouldn't stress too much (yeah, like that's likely to happen) and see if my condition improves, just like the doctor said. Maybe I don't have cancer after all.

So today, I will rest in my bed, take my medication as prescribed and try to recuperate to the best of my ability. And today, before tomorrow brings whatever it is destined to bring, I will tell at least one person I love them.

It's the least and the most I can do. Today.

Continue reading →

Who Knew

Mr J never said it, though he sure as hell implied it over those 3+ years of our quasi-relationship. I tried to fish it out of him, tried to see if he felt what I was desperately trying to get out of my system but could not say during all that time.

The Banker never said it. It was sort of clinical, in a way. There was some intense affection on the surface but, beyond it, I saw hardly anything deep and lasting. It became very obvious after a while that I was feeling exactly the same way. I was attracted to him, mentally and sexually. Nevertheless, there was something missing... something important that prevented us from going any further and made him break up with me.

And with the 21 Year Old, it's so simple. Sometimes I think, it's almost TOO simple. Isn't there a catch to all of this? But then again.. shouldn't it ALWAYS be this simple when it's right?

11 weeks in, and he said it.

Via a text message but, you know, I'll take it via any form of communication it might come.

Continue reading →

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.

Continue reading →

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.

Continue reading →

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.

Continue reading →