Who's been reading this still?

 Is that you Lindsay?

Living with a Ghost for 105 Days

I’ve been waiting for that familiar ringtone to sound again.

It’s been 105 days now — perhaps longer than our relationship itself. I think that’s reason enough to stop waiting, and to stop harbouring hope.

I used to want to build a life with you. I saw the person you could become. I saw the injured child in you while nursing my own, and I believed I had what it took to help us both heal. I thought love alone was enough. I thought my love was enough.

I imagined a life — maybe in Singapore, maybe wherever it took us. But I see now that this was my wishful thinking. When you pictured your life coming together, I was never truly in it.

I don’t know what made you ask if I wanted to go to Japan with you, or live on a boat with you. I curse my own naivety for believing those words — and at the same time, I am proud that I still had the capacity to trust, despite the magnitude of betrayal I had experienced before you.

I’ve also forgiven you for using what I shared about my mother against me. It hurt deeply, but choosing to remain hurt would only cost me my heart. I couldn’t believe my ears when you said those words, yet I chose to believe you didn’t mean them — that they came from anger, not intention.

Perhaps we don’t function or process pain the same way. But I do know this: I tried to love you with honesty and grace, even when it was difficult. But I can't say the same for you because I know you have been replaying the hurtful words I said so you could justify the disappearance. 

You once said I enjoyed doubting you, that I was suspicious or controlling about the women around you. But when I look back honestly, I know that isn’t true. I never tried to control who you met for lunches or dinners, who you followed, or whose posts you liked. I even told you never to tell me anything about Jo.

That wasn’t distrust. It was trust.

I encouraged you to have a full life and to widen your social circle. Yet you often compared me to your exes, dropping their names as though I had an ideal to live up to. You could tell me about going out of your way to give someone else a handwritten card, while a letter you promised to post to me never arrived — and I was told I had no right to feel hurt.

When I tried to speak about the ways you hurt me, you became defensive, accusing me of discounting you or of victimising myself. But I never tried to make you feel small. I never paraded my past to diminish you. I simply shared my feelings with someone I loved, hoping for reassurance.

Even when I chose to self-soothe and greet you warmly despite my hurt, I was met with a remark that at least I had my favourite music to make myself feel happy.

The truth is, despite every betrayal I had experienced before you, I still chose to trust you. That trust broke on 2 September 2025 — when I never received a text, an email, or a call back after you said you would reply.

Both versions of you — then and now — hurt. And I don’t believe I was wrong to ask, on that final call when you once again compared me to your exes, which version of you they received, and which one I did.

I was never trying to discount you. I was never trying to hurt you because you broke my heart. I hope you know that.

I believed I was who you wanted because you told me so. You hated that I doubted you. You cried at airports, and I thought those tears meant I mattered. I see now that I was wrong.

Sleeping beside the ghost of you in that grey tee for 105 days is enough. I no longer wish to wait, or to hope that you might do better.

I’ve grieved the version of Christian who once made me feel loved and cared for. Thank you for those memories. I don’t hate you. I just hope you understand that you’ve lost someone who truly believed in you — and tried to help you believe in yourself too.

Maybe not now. Maybe someday.

Good luck with love, life, health, and happiness.
Good luck with Hetzer.

“Such wounds to the heart will probably never heal. But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.”
― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

From C to C

Anger is absolutely draining. It consumes you and, more often than not, makes you behave in ways that aren’t really you. If you nurse anger for a long time, you’ll eventually become a nasty, bitter person who treats happiness like a fairytale.

Today I chose to let go of that anger. When I pictured releasing it, what came back was my true core: love. If love begets forgiveness, then I forgive him for everything from the last three weeks. When the anger left, what remained was my love for him — and there was a strange relief in seeing it still there. It meant I do love him.

*

Dear you,

It’s been two months since I last saw you, and 23 days since I last heard your voice. I miss you. I’m no longer angry, and whatever you’re going through that made you ghost me, I understand. I pushed, I chased — but I won’t do that anymore because you’ve made it clear you don’t want me in your life. I don’t hate you. I’m not mad. We all have the freedom to make our own choices.

Knowing you, I picture you caught in a whirlpool with bricks collapsing all around you. You don’t know your place right now, and that alone is painful — so naturally you don’t have the capacity to address things between us. That’s OK. I will remember you as the honest, caring man I’ve always known, and I believe you’ll continue to do right by people and by yourself.

I keep going back to the night you asked me to step on your feet and carried me out to the balcony to look at the moon. I wish I’d stayed in that moment with you a little longer.

You came to our relationship with unresolved emotional issues, and I’m afraid I didn’t fully register the gravity of what you were carrying. You tried — for me, for us — and you apologised when you realised you’d been distant or selfish. If I’d known you at a different time and place, maybe you would have had more to give. Still, I know you gave what you could, even while running on an almost-empty tank.

Thank you, Christian. I saw your tears. I remember how you held me. I know you convinced yourself this was the only way to say goodbye: that you need to find your place in life and focus on it. I believe you will. I sincerely hope you find what you’re looking for — even if it doesn’t include me.

I remain thankful for the times we shared and the love you gave.

Me,

C

100 Dumb Ways to Die

I've always appreciated the portrayal of friendship in The Hangover movie series, and I often fantasized about being able to do the outrageous things the guys did. But, as societal norms dictate, girls and women are typically not expected to visit strip clubs, drink too much, or openly discuss their sexual encounters. This means I often feel confined to nail salons, spa treatments, and sipping overpriced, girly cocktails in my designer heels.

While I don’t mind that lifestyle, I can’t help but envy the freedom that men seem to have to engage in reckless fun—and get away with it. Even when they be wearing bermudas and flip flops and look like Stu. 

So, it’s no surprise that in 2018, I found myself drink driving in Malaysia without a proper license. When the police pulled me over and asked for my ID, I knew I had to think fast.

“How much?” I asked, half-joking.

He laughed and said, “Whoa, wait. Let me talk to my colleague.”

He returned with a straight face. “200.”

“Ringgit? OK.”

And just like that, we were off. This was supposed to be a post about "100 Dumb Ways to Die," but clearly, we survived my reckless driving and blatant bribery. If the officer had been a stickler for the law, I might have ended up in some grim Malaysian prison where, as a friend once told me, everyone shares the same water pitcher. I could have easily succumbed to my fear of bacteria and viruses and died by anxiety attacks in there.

Just the other day, I was out with Pw, and we briefly discussed "100 Dumb Ways to Die."

“Hey, I saw a TikTok that said if you fall out of a plane, aim for the forest or swamps instead of water, since water can be like hitting concrete from that height,” I said.

“Huh, so trees would cushion the fall?” she asked.

“Supposedly. But imagine getting impaled by a thick branch high up in a tree. You’d be stuck, bleeding out slowly, in excruciating pain, and no one would hear your cries for help. HAHAHAHAHA.”

“But don’t worry bruv, if that happens to you, I’ll call the rescue team. I’ll tell them exactly where you are. Just look for the trees near the crash site!”

Just like in The Hangover, with my current placement, I believe I have the ability now to do outrageous things and get away with them. The best part? I have a friend who’s just as cock, ready to join me in all my shenanigans. I'm just not too sure how her husband would feel if he had to come bail us out of jail one day. 

The Day Chrissy Got Too Much In Her Head

Reading back through my past entries, I realized I’m quite a funny person—and not a bad writer, either. I found myself laughing out loud at some parts, feeling a thrill reading the steamy encounters with K, and even tearing up at the little goodbye love letter to Carl. 

Carl. Carl. Carl.

In 2025, it would have been ten years since we parted, yet here I am, still saying his name after all this time. A decade—10 years, 3,650 days—and his name has never left my heart or my lips. To be honest, I was certain no one could ever replace him when he decided to leave. I didn't hold anyone to his standards because what he did for me and how he completed my life back then was unparalleled. No one really wants to know, because those standards were hard to live up to. 

My brother came over earlier to check on me and we ended up watching his church’s sermons together. I am pretty pathetic. I’m 39, and I’ve been using alcohol to numb the pain from this current ordeal I’m facing. I should be popping champagne and celebrating this new milestone at work, but instead, I’m not. I even finished a bottle of Shiraz last night. The evening before that was whiskey and Chianti, and the night before that was three-quarters of a bottle of Chianti. Before that, just more whiskey. This is bad. This is really bad. My liver hates me.

I refuse to write this person's name here (the person who's put me in this current painful situation) because doing so would mean he’s a prominent part of my life. I hate that you can easily Google him and find his search results all over the place. I hate that there are videos of him on YouTube. I’m just not going to engage with that because one thing’s for sure: if I read this entry later, I’d be asking myself, “Who is this person I’m talking about?” And so, I am not allowing myself to remember this person. But it doesn't mean my mind and heart are not screaming his name right now. It will pass. I will heal. I will move on. I must forget that he exists. 

My sex drive is a little all over the place now. I currently own two very expensive sex toys--one which I had ordered a few days ago and requested for same-day delivery. 

"You know it's like when you get so horny and they know that you can't wait to have an orgasm and so they provided the same-day delivery option," I said to PW. 

"Dude, the uncle who delivered it, did he throw you any dirty looks?" she asked. 

"No it was wrapped but he probably went to the sex shop and picked it up so he probably knows what's inside." 

"Wow, imagine he had known that you needed the toy urgently and asked if he could help, 'Xiao mei, uncle dao kar chiu ai mai?'" (Hokkien; translates to "little girl, uncle help you want or not?") 

We then burst into hysterical laughter. I then proceeded to show her the new toy which is a dildo that has a thrusting function. Apart from the Internet and ChatGPT, thrusting dildos might just be the best invention to have come from the tech boom. 

I had opened my bedside table and took the toys out and showed her. 

"Bruv, why do you have Ruyi oil and Yoko Yoko in here as well?" she exclaimed while examining the two bottles of lubes that were beside.  

"You know there was once I was pretty wasted, I wanted to take the Ruyi oil to rub my nose with, then I accidentally took the lube and rubbed it on my nostrils. Fuck, imagine if I had wanted to use the lube instead with my toy, and I had by mistake taken the Yoko Yoko instead and rub it on my pussy!" 

We both laughed so hard that I had forgotten this pain I was nursing inside me for a good one minute.

I still have Bo as my FwB but I think he's a bit pissed off with me now cause the last time when he asked to fuck, I ignored his text. So I texted him yesterday, "Hey, wotcha doing later? Wanna hook up?" 

"I'm not in Singapore, in Dubai." 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Where's a good, reliable fuck when you need one? I’ve never been a fan of having different partners—STDs are a real concern—but I might have come to realize we need more than one FwB! Unfortunately, my expectations for these arrangements mean I can’t just swipe right on Tinder and jump into bed with someone.

So, I thought of K (read my 2017 entries, and you’ll know who he is). He was, without a doubt, the best fuck I ever had, and I hated myself for deleting his number. I don’t even know if he still works for Apple or if he’s still in Singapore. I can still picture his half-naked body in those jogging tights, standing at his bedroom window with a cup of coffee—and that marvelous ass. If he’s nine years younger than me, he must be 30 now. Oh my god, has he gotten married and is he giving some woman the best fucks of her life? I find myself feeling a little jealous; why do all the good things never happen to me?

I used to be someone who was never without a relationship for long but since 2015, I have been very single. Mf was long-distance so it didn't feel like I had a partner as well. Though we've been together for a year, we only saw each other less than 15 times. 

“What do you really want? Don’t you think you’d want someone like Carl—someone who can see you every weekend, celebrate festivities with you, and take vacations overseas together like a proper boyfriend?” my brother asked earlier.

"I don't know," I responded. 

Maybe I don’t even know what I want when it comes to love and relationships. Perhaps I don’t want to be married at all. I kind of think marriages are overrated and a bit too fairytale-like for me. But the idea of having someone to laugh, cry and fuck with remains endearing.

Maybe, just maybe… I’m meant to be a player? The Butterfly was what I read obsessively while I was growing up, and I’m still fascinated by those encounters and stories today. When did I tire of going out on dates and meeting new people? I used to be properly wined and dined all the time. Michelin restaurants, fine dining, wealthy men, celebrities... What the fuck exactly happened to me since COVID-19?

Chrissy's Woes and Rants as a 33yo

They say when you feel like you've hit rock bottom, the only way you can move is 'up'.

When I was younger, I remember I had better resilience dealing with setbacks. When I felt sad, betrayed or unwanted, I'd go into a long slumber. And the next day I'd wake with so much hope and positivity, ready to take on the world again even when I had nothing to my name and was absolutely broke. It turns out, while many out there seem to think that you get stronger as you grow older, it's not the case for me. The damn turn of wheels, I'm the opposite of what everyone is--I get weaker inside with each day I inch toward death. What a pathetic way to morph, if you ask me.

Yes, I'm the one who carved a name for myself even when I am not the most highly educated person around. Yes, I give my all in whatever I do because I'm achievement-hungry. I am motivated and eager to be recognised by those who I think are high up there. The successful people around me think I'm strong, fiercely independent and there's nothing in this world that can take me down.

When old friends ask how I'm doing these days, I'd go about with the answer "Probably successful in career, friends and family but always a big failure in relationships". And they'd respond with "Don't be greedy. You can't have it all in life." Cut the patronising and the sake of saying something when you have nothing better to say. The fact we all know is: you can. There are so many around us who have managed to excel in all these aspects which are fundamental (I say fundamental) to one's over all wellbeing. Puhlease...

They say I'm not whole and this is why I keep scoring a big fat zero in my romance department. Again, if we take a long hard look at everyone around us, the fact remains, there are a lot more people out there who aren't whole who are together with somebody. So where's the argument in this? Let's take a look at my Life Score Card here...

So I know what you're all thinking here. And I can flatly tell you here are what my friends always say to me:

"You fall too fast, too hard."

"You don't hold back when you fall."

"You trust people too easily."

"You need to have better taste in men." 

"You get too intense. People don't like it."

I'm a nice person. I don't outrightly talk back to my friends so whenever I hear someone saying anything along the lines of these here, here's what I'll be saying (screaming) in my head... 

"You fall too fast, too hard." (I'M A DIE HARD ROMANTIC!)

"You don't hold back when you fall." (I'M A DIE HARD ROMANTIC!!!)

"You trust people too easily." (YOU SAID I DON'T TRUST PEOPLE WHICH RESULTED IN THE INSECURITIES I HAVE IN ME. NOW YOU SAID I TRUST PEOPLE TOO EASILY?)

"You need to have better taste in men." (I'VE BEEN SINGLE FOR CLOSE TO 4 YEARS! AND WHY IS THIS SO?)

"You get too intense. People don't like it." (I AM PUMPING WITH BLOOD, ALIVE AND AM PASSIONATE IN THE THINGS I FEEL FOR. I'M A LEO, LEAVE ME ALONE.)

Be thankful for what you got.

August motherfucking 23rd 2017.

The stretch of time that has intervened between then and now, has once again brought forth the light of things. Fighting to swallow the fact that I'm once again on another crossroad, I resisted pouring myself a glass of Malbec to wash it down. I really need to cut back on the drinking.

Life has a way to fuck all of us up. Biding farewell to Kn was hard. Having to think of biding farewell to Cs next week is even harder. I admit, I'll feel alone. Probably feel like the only saint surrounded by a sea of monsters. And the thought of having to dance daily with so many devils just fucking depresses me.

It's ok. Like attracts like. Let's just be positive and have faith that things will take a pivotal turn around toward the light.

I don't remember Carl anymore. Thinking of him now feels different. And looking at his photos certainly does not evoke any emotions. Time has its way to heal every wound. Lesson learnt: when you fucking feel like you're going to die, chant 7577878 times to yourself TIME WILL HEAL. The only downside is, and I am not going to sugarcoat my words here, that you'll find time between now and the future a pain in the ass to live through. You'll bawl, you'll go insane and you'll even do things you won't typically do. And this will just mean, when the future has finally come, you'll be someone different.

"What doesn't kill you won't make you stronger. It just makes you funnier."

Falling in love when you're older is tough. Think about the times where you had easily felt for someone -- exchange looks, smile, BAM. That was easy. When you're older, you exchange death stares, scowl, BAM, "next". I find people a total turn off these days. I don't get excited about people, and neither do I get excited looking at designer shoes and bags anymore. The only excitement I have these days is to see the money rolling in, and knowing I will retire with a million dollars on hand in another 30 years' time. I would however, be thankful, if I don't have to wait thirty years for that to happen. I am officially a rat in the race now. /18 year-old me laughing at 32 year-old me now

People typically whine about the things they don't have. Why can't you just suck it up and work towards that? If you don't like how you look, change it. If you don't like what you do, change it. Happiness is not something that just happen to you. You got to find it. So what makes you happy? Jot them all down and envision that end goal. Then work out a gap analysis that will help you move towards that -- step by step.

I really like how my 2017 is unfolding thus far, though I might want to change up 90% of things. I swear having met Kn and Cs is one of the few good things that have happened to me. And I plan to keep them very close for a long period of time. I am happy too, having met Mikki, cause he made me feel alive for a month. Waking up smiling has been something I hadn't been able to do for two years and a half. And I am thankful for that. He just doesn't know how significant this is to me. But fuck him nonetheless.

So, I'm back to being the girl who goes to work every Monday to Friday, goes for her Muay Thai practice every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, then swim on Sundays.

I guess there's a difference between then and now -- me then and me now. Definitely more independent, stronger, and very possibly kicking more ass in the corporate world.

I ought to feel happy, don't I?

All Hail Chrissy!

Ah, another Monday has ended. Another 19 of June gone just like that -- in a bat of an eye. As much as I had wanted to hold on to time, half of 2017 gone. Just like that.

Time -- since the beginning of my time -- has always been my nemesis. The one which I've been battling with and the only one who I can never defeat (and the weighing scale). We're all victims of Time. Not ageing, not cancer, and not death. These are merely what Time brings forth. Our one true enemy is Time.

Time was the culprit for breaking up your ex lover and you. He was the mastermind behind you saying goodbye to all your friends in school. He also was the cause of you failing your exams. Lastly, he took Brownie and Sparky away, took whoever I cared for away and brought them to a place where I can never be reunited with them again. 

Time, our one true enemy. He steals memories away from you no matter how painstakingly you try to hold on to, past the point of no return. With time, everything eventually fades into nothingness. With time, we will soon too slip into the unknown.

With my 9 month old niece now in this world, I feel myself slipping into the abyssal darkness of the unknown quicker than before. Her innocence reminds me of the times where days were easier -- no love, no sentiments. Just mom and dad, food and exams. Life's simple, we got complicated. 

Half a year gone just like that and I find myself struggling with finding another job again. In less than eight months, I'm once again on the road of doubts and measuring my self worth with the number of phone-calls I get back from the sending of the CVs. I don't want to leave Colin and I don't want him to leave us. Why did Time once again take something so precious away from me? I finally found a boss, a place where I see myself growing professionally with for a good few years. This, is hard to come by because if you look through my CV, you will waste no time to emblazon a CHRONIC JOB-HOPPER label over it.

Fuck. 

I hate having to explain myself to all the recruiters on why I left this job, that job. If I'm unhappy at work, I leave. It's that simple. Why would anyone drag her feet into a cesspit every day? God have mercy on that poor soul who does. Love yourself a little. If you're not happy for 260 days in a year minus the weekends where you don't have to work, you will be in a mental institute eventually. Not to visit but as a patient. Unless you enjoy taking Xanax like Skittles, no one should ever have to work in a place where they are miserable. Period. It's just that fucking simple, why can't hiring managers and recruiters get it? I'm a millennial, duh.

I'm turning 32 in July and I'm very much single. I still enjoy listening to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. I'm doing very well for a high school dropout and I have recently gained 4kg. I guess this is how 2017 unfolds and I am sure it will continue to be this mediocre. 

If you're asking about my sex life, let's just say burning the bridge between K and I has got to be one of the biggest mistakes I've committed in life. He was such a wonderful fuck and how I regret, how I regret now. 

The Ghost

It's been probably a long time since I last saw and spoke to Carl. Yeah, if you've been a friend (don't even need you to be a close one), you WILL definitely know who he is. 

He's after all, my 'the one who got away'. 

Life's mysterious and the world's small. Putting Law of Attraction a case in point, it seems I am still in a world that has him in it. Having moved on from what was the perfect relationship in my opinion, I have learnt to live on my own independently with much effort made in being alone. It was never my forte but I learnt never to settle for less because I know what I truly deserve. 

Coincidentally, my boss was a secondary school mate of his and I learnt this today. What are the odds? There are a ton too many secondary schools in Singapore and both of them just have to be born in the same year, went to the same school, and share a close friend -- Terry Lee. 

I can't comprehend the reasoning behind this arrangement. I cannot keep up with the number of people around me who know him. I got envious of my boss this afternoon upon learning they spent 4 years together in high school though they weren't chummy. I didn't even get four years of his time and very obviously, if my boss was to chance upon him on the streets again, I will definitely be one of the many things they would share. 

I don't even want him to know that I'm doing well. He does not deserve to know. 

I don't want him back, and neither do I want to be someone who he will think of from time to time while looking at his current girlfriend. I don't want him to be reminded of me at all. For he doesn't deserve any bit concerning me -- not even memories. 

So please, let you be the one thing I talk about from time to time, think about sometimes when I can't sleep at night, picture on the punching bag at my Muay Thai training and the one thing I desire which I can never have. Just so I can fully grasp the concept of letting go, and that there are many times in life where things are out of our control and out of reach.

At night before bed

late at night before bed

my soul unrest, I remain wide awake.

fade into an abyss, often my thoughts did,

--my fears, my tears, my solitude years

I miss the presence of love

its warmth and burning hope it unearths 

I miss having someone to hold

to feel complete, hopeful and whole

knowing I'll never settle; 

what I expect is what I deserve.

I can't do grays, I can't do less,

and never second to best

all while knowing too, 

that my wishes are simple
yet akin to a pair of outstretched hands into the horizon of blue

The Final Chapter: Jealousy & Taciturnity

K has a very bad texting habit which he said he is trying to change. He said it is nothing personal but he has been this way all along. It kills me.

"I don't understand why you're not respecting me the way you said you do. Even as a friend, as FwBs, I don't think I deserve to be treated this way." I texted him a long ass text knowing he won't respond and he sure didn't surprise me.

"We shouldn't see each other anymore because I cannot handle the way we are."

I came back home and sulked to the thought of never seeing him again. The lungo he always makes me in the morning, the wine-drinking, the witty conversations we always have, the chats in between sex and the laughter under sheets, how we always smile whenever we kiss, his ridiculously amazing bod and that ass.

9:40pm: I added his number to the Blocked Contacts list.

The next day, I flew to London -- where he grew up in -- for a work trip.

Part Trois: Friends with Benefits

Two weekends have gone by since I last saw (shagged) K. My period has come and left. I've pulled through bridesmaid duties for a weekend and surprisingly took great fun in it. And I've also confessed to K that I might be developing feelings for him. It was difficult containing my feelings for him and when I decided to fess up, a sense of relief swept over me almost instantly.

"Don't tell him you have feelings for him and just enjoy the shag," Lc warned. And I went ahead to do it nonetheless. It was never me to bottle things inside. And honestly speaking, I am not going to deny that I wanted to see if he thinks he might have feelings for me too. Risk-taker as always.

Dealing with his unresponsiveness was hard. It's even more agonising when no text came from him even after a couple of days had passed and especially when I could see that he read my message. Can you imagine how I felt? Just go and take a dump now, stand up without pushing the flush button and look at what you've left behind. Bummed, I decided to move on. The bridesmaid duty last weekend sure did help take things off my mind as I enjoyed attention from the groomsmen. One actually gave me intense eye contact throughout the entire day and another actually asked me out to the after-party which I had politely declined. And just when I was all set to forget K, he sent a long ass text when the newly-weds were busy taking limelight on stage. 

"What happened was we weren't just shagging. We were kissing and cuddling whole night and I was not so sure if I should continue cause I've been so used to being alone for so long. I still do, I enjoy doing my own thing and being alone." 

I got Mai who was seated right next to me at the wedding dinner to analyse the text for me while she was finishing up her soup. 

"Sounds like he has a thing for you and he's chickening out now," she said as she took one last sip. Grinning, I put away my phone and enjoyed having the ball in my court for a good two days. On Tuesday evening, I responded to his lengthy ass message and asked him to go to Zouk with us on the lunar new year weekend. 

"Down. But seriously, we are a little too old for Zouk," he replied. (You're fucking joking, you're 23. Who are you to say 'old'?)

I exploded confetti and saw rainbows in that instance. "Fucking whore Chrissy!" I had screamed at my own reflection in the mirror. But who cares really, I was overjoyed that I was going to see him again. 

Fast forwarding everything, I tried to firm up if he's indeed down for Zouk on Thursday. No response and that's nothing new. I honestly wonder all the time why he even has a phone and contemplated giving him a pigeon carrier for birthday. I am sure he would be thrilled. 

Friday came and no response still and I thought I saw my patience flew out the window. Upset, I asked if he even had the courtesy to respond to texts and once again, he began his preach on how he's not a big texter. "Motherfucker, I can see your 'last seen'," I had thought to myself. I was seriously upset and told him never to look me up again. He replied on Saturday and said how he knew he has ruined something we shouldn't hold on to. What the fuck? It was possibly the best apologetic slap I have ever received in my entire life. Panicking that I wouldn't get to see him, I mellowed down and tried to coax him into heading to Zouk with us after he said he ain't in a right fit to. 

No go.

Feeling extremely bummed, I headed out to Club St to meet up with Y for a pre-party drink. I had prayed to the universe for a miracle. 

A dozen texts and some mini squabble later, he finally said 'yes' to "Can we fuck tonight?" 

At 2am, I was at the foot of the building at 370 Thomson Road. 

"Give me minute. I am walking back now." 

"From where?"

"7-11."

Two agonising minutes later, he walked passed the gate and headed toward my direction.

"Hi Chrissy," he said as he kissed me on both cheeks. 

Back in his room, the courting game began over a glass of wine. I gave him a good lashing and he apologised fervently about his texting habit. I stood up and pranced up and down in his room while he sat on his bed looking at me do so.

"I respect you Chrissy. I never liked many people in my life but I like you. That friend who was over just now? I don't even like him and I can't wait to get him to fuck out of the house."

He grabbed my hand suddenly and pulled me toward him. I fell on him as he dug his face into my cleavage. Then he pinned me down on bed and began kissing my breasts. He stopped, looked at me for a bit and made his way to my lips. We were once again kissing passionately. And I was once again manhandled the way I adore. He just knows it doesn't he?

He held my left leg up and reached for what was underneath the mini shorts I was wearing and found the treasure which he began stroking. His lips never left mine during the process and the next I knew, we were stripping each other with zest. He made his way down south and began licking my clitoris and the opening. It felt so good to be eaten out by him. And I moaned with such pleasure. I pushed him off me and sat him up at the side of the bed. Kneeling on the floor, I began to lick and suck his balls. He moaned and threw his head back in ecstasy. "Who taught you to suck like that?" He moaned harder as I teased his balls with my tongue. 

"Have we got green tea left?" I asked and reached out for the bottle. I then took a gulp of it and began to push his cock into my mouth with the cold green tea still inside. He moaned ever louder. He sat up and said "I want to fuck you now" as he lifted me off the floor and pushed me on to the bed. We kissed with even more passion as he wore the condom and before I realized, his stiffness was inside me and he began to thrust me hard. Ramming his entire cock into me, he grabbed my left boob and asked if it was gentle enough (he had bruised me the previous times when he grabbed my boobs a little too hard). "I love this fuckboy," I thought in my head. 

One fuck later, he got dressed and sat on a chair facing me while I sat naked on the bed. We debated on humanity and shared with each other how we think we are sociopaths. We both seem to take great pride in it and I thanked universe for sending someone like him to me. You don't get a lot of self-proclaiming sociopaths who actually know they are one. I decided to nickname him 'rabbit-killer' after he told me how he used to hunt back then in Europe and actually thought rabbit meat was delicious.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked him.

"You're scary Chrissy," he said when I told him I love reading up on serial killers.

He then went on to share with me how his dad was a sniper during the war and is now an architect and how the mood was always tense when the dad was around. Bad childhood definitely. His mom is now living separately on her own while his sister and father still live together. These are intimate details you share when you start to open up to someone. Yes?

5am struck and he decided we should sleep. With my back facing him, he decided to keep his hand to himself. No spooning. "Are you intentionally not cuddling me?" I asked. And he threw his right hand over to cup my left breast. After some fondling, we started kissing again gently first which shortly went right into the fast lane called 'passionately' and in no time, he was once again on top of me. Pinning me down to the bed, we kissed each other fervently and our hands explored each other's body. I really fucking love his ass. A few minutes later, he was inside of me. "Get up, I want to fuck you from behind," he said and so I did as told. He thrusted and rammed all of him into me as I took pleasure in being manhandled from behind. I held on to the bed stand as he grabbed my left boob and pulled me up close to kiss me. A few minutes of heavy thrusting later, he came and we fell asleep in no time.

We were awaken by some odd noises a few minutes later and the both of us got up together to check out what it was. It turned out, his aircon was dripping water. I told him to place a towel underneath it and come back to bed.

The day broke not long after as the sunlight came beating into his room. I kissed him on his neck and chest and he started grabbing my ass as we laid sideways facing each other. He got up, drew the curtains, pinned me down to the bed, and started stroking my pussy as he sucked on my nipples. He then slipped a finger into me and began working on my G spot. When he slipped two fingers in, I moaned louder as he fucked me with them.

"Someone's in the kitchen," he said as he kissed my neck while I was caught in an euphoric state that he was responsible for sending me to.

"Who cares?" I responded.

He came when he was fucking me sideways with his left hand on my right boob, and gave me a kiss on the forehead as he rolled out of bed. He then got dressed and went out to make coffee for the both of us. Two cigarettes and a lungo later, he told me that he wanted to start his day and I got the not-so-subtle hint and booked myself a car.

"You make me feel like a working girl you know?" This was not a question.

"Do I? I am sorry. I never wanted to. Are you expecting me to kiss and hug you like a girlfriend?

"So are we still going to continue fucking or this is the end of the arrangement?"

"Yeah, we can do that. You know fuck once in a while. Like every weekend kind," he said.

Relieved that it was an every weekend kind of arrangement, I told him to walk me down to the ride and before I got on to the car, he told me to give him a hug.

"I'll talk to you later Chrissy," he said as he put me into the car.

"Bullshit," I thought to myself and threw him a side glare as the car pulled out of the driveway of 370 Thomson Road. 

Part Deux: The Sex Tango

The second weekend of 2017 crept in upon us and left in the good old merciless fashion. Though I for sure wanted the second weekend of 2017 to stay; I wanted it to be on a standstill. The world and what's going on outside The 370 can keep going for all I care. I just wanted everything to remain frozen in time in The 370. 

"Can we spend Saturday night together?" I texted K on Thursday. 

"Yeah, I'm down. Thought it was going to be an ONS but ok, let's do it," said he. 

Thrilled that I was going to shag again for the weekend, I began reshuffling my schedule. Mind you, I had plans. I had to bring forward my day out with So. I had blocked Saturday for him and told Y that I can't commit to a swim. 

Friday came. So and I had agreed to meet at Drinks & Co at Club Street but it was packed to the brim and we detoured to Sugarhall instead. 

Met Jay and struck up a conversation with her before finding out from her that PJs' ex was there drinking alone. Texted Lc and told her how close she was to a bar bitch fight. No drama for the evening. 

10pm came and So left. I proceeded to Clarke Quay to meet up with Don -- someone who I met from Coffee Meet Bagel the day before and we had hit it off so effortlessly. True enough, the drinks date was cool. We had a great conversation but all I could think of was K. 

Sent K a text to confirm our meeting for Saturday. No reply. Played it cool.

Saturday came and texted him again to find out what's wrong. He read but no response and I got pissed. I texted Y right away to tell her that I can make it for a swim. Y flaked out at the last minute and I stayed home. 

Upset that I was going to spend my Saturday evening alone, I went to grab McDonald's. Nothing lifts my spirits up like fries. At McD's, K texted.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I went out for drinks last night and got home real late. I am having a hangover now but if you want to meet up, I'm down." 

Forgave him right away. Or rather, Miss V did. 

"Sure. Let's do it. 10pm your place."

"Let's grab drinks first aye?" 

"Ok, Drinks & Co, Holland V?"

"Aye." 

10pm came. He was there waiting for me as I strolled over. I suspected I was wearing beer googles on NYE where I first met him but with 20/20 vision this time around, I reaffirmed the fact that he indeed was cute.

"Hi," he hugged me and I hugged him back. Wtf, why not a kiss? 

Took our seat and ordered a bottle of gin infused rubharb water (in Ben's words) to share. 

Chatted at lengths and he finally came clean with me about his age. Time check, 12 midnight and we decided to head home. Went to 7-11 to grab condoms and cigarettes and we headed for his place.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked. 

"Sure." He then poured us each a glass. 

We got comfortable on his bed and chatted more. Finishing up my first glass of wine, he suddenly said, "You better put away the glass." 

Before I knew it, he grabbed me, dragged me across and pinned me down to the bed while I was still holding the empty glass. We locked lips passionately (again) and fuck, it felt so good. I didn't know I had yearned for him this bad. He took the empty wine glass, placed it on the floor and came back to kiss me again. Slowly, he made his way down my neck and my chest. He gently pulled my blouse down to expose my chest and slowly kissed them all over. I held his head and ruffled his hair, grabbed him near and moaned softly. "Kelvin." I unbuttoned him, still locked in his embrace and kisses. 

"We're kissing like lovers," he said. 

He took off my shorts and went down on me. His warm and moist tongue touching my hot and wet pussy. He licked the clitoris and inserted a finger into my vagina. I was in heaven. And when he took out his finger, he lowered his tongue to where the moist was. 

With my blouse at my waist, I sat up in my lingerie and told him to take it off. We were still kissing, in fact, we never did stop. And so he did, looked at my exposed breasts and kissed me again passionately. I unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down. Calvin Klein looked good on him. He then propped me up, sat me on his lap and we kissed each other again sitting up. Our skin felt good touching, I could feel his hard-on against my naked pussy. This went on for about a minute before I stood up. I held his hand and pulled him up from bed to where the bedroom door was. I held him close and kissed him again. And he did something which took me by surprise.

Halfway through our kissing whilst standing up, he lifted me up by my both thighs and carried me to the wall. Pinned with my back against the wall, I gave him a clear eye-level view of my exposed breasts and I could see the desire in his eyes. He suckled on my breasts and kissed them with lust so conspicuous to the naked eye. I held him close and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted with me. When he put me down finally, I went down on my knees. Making sure he had a good view of all the action, I slowly licked his balls and teased the tip of his cock with my tongue. When I teabagged him with my hand working on his beautifully salivated cock, he moaned "Where did you learn that from?" 

"Come to Europe," he said. 

As horny as we were, our foreplay lasted a good 30 minutes. When he couldn't handle my blowjob anymore, he pushed me to the bed and started kissing me passionately again. He then reached out for the condom, put it on and put his stiffness in me. I moaned and he started fucking me hard. Throughout the fuck, we never did stop kissing each other if the position allowed that is. At a point where it got a little mellowed down, it felt as we were making love. We kissed, we both smiled as we kissed, we stopped and stared at each other while he was thrusting me, and kissed again, and smiled again. 

He came. One fuck down. 

The hangover got the better of him and he wanted to rest. So we did. And we hugged, kissed some more, smiled at each other while we kissed some more, and slept. 

In the wee hours I woke up because I wanted a shower. I kissed him, his neck, his very defined chest and worked my way down his stomach and to his cock. Kissed his stiffness with the briefs still on and he moaned. I stumbled my way in the dark to the bathroom and took a shower. 

When I got back, I once again marvelled at his body. That ass. 

We fucked again because we kissed again. Our kisses were always this potent and I have no idea why. This time around, the fuck was slow but it felt nice nonetheless. More kisses, more smiling as we kissed and more arms-wrapped-around-each-other. Something under his bed snapped. 

We both said, "What was that?" 

"Should we check it out?" I asked when he was inside me.

"No." And he continued to thrust. 

Two fucks down. 

Then morning came. He woke me up with a kiss. And we started kissing again, or rather, we kept teasing each other with light pecks on the lips. And we kept smiling at each other. He stroke the sides of my face, I stroke his too and we both smiled. I then slithered and wriggled myself under the blankets while kissing him on his neck and chest. Making my way down slowly, I could hear his soft moans of enjoyment. I knew I was sending him to heaven. I pulled his briefs down and teased his hard-on with the tip of my tongue. Slowly, I glided my tongue down to his balls and started to lick them. He moaned louder. "Suck me," he commanded. With no objections, I slowly put the head of his hard-on in my mouth and glided my tongue across the pee-hole. He moaned harder. Slowly and gently, I went down lower. He held the back of my head and put the whole of him in my mouth. 

Flipping me over, he went down licking me again. He inserted two fingers in me and reached for the G-spot. He found it, he played with it and I moaned so hard. I wanted him to fuck me but I wanted to suck him more and so I did. 

"I want to fuck you baby." 

"But I want to suck you."

So I did. And he came and I cleaned him up with my tongue and mouth after. 

Now a lot of people don't really know this but I really do enjoy giving and pleasing in bed. And probably to show off my skills. And I sure as hell bet K met the fuck of his life on the second weekend of 2017. 

He then went to make coffee for the both of us. I had one shot, he had three. We smoked and didn't kiss or hug. We chatted like friends and I think I may have fallen for him. He put on his jogging tights and I couldn't stop looking at his very amazing body, legs and ass. Ever seen anyone looks good in jogging tights? Him. 

"Come to bed," I said after he put on his running tee. He came to bed, kissed me on my right ear and cheek. "I really want to start my day now," he whispered into my ear. Motherfucker.

I got up, got dressed and said "OK, I've overextended my stay it seems and thank you for the evening. Bill me." We both sniggered. I hope he caught my sarcasm but in my heart I was screaming "I think I have fallen for you and I want to spend more time with you!" 

He walked me down and when my car arrived, he hugged me. No kiss again, WTF?

I felt shitty and spent Sunday afternoon swimming, then Monday evening, and then Tuesday evening -- all just I could clear my head and wrap it around things. But at the moment it seems, the only thing I want to wrap around is his cock with my tongue and his body with my arms.

I spent a good three days thinking about the possibility of us being together. Not a slight chance. Why? Basically, even though he said the chemistry we share is scaring him, he started out (or rather both of us) making it explicitly clear that we are just going to be FwBs.

"To be honest, I can't expect something serious from us for now," he had said. 

Oddly enough, when you tell your heart not to fall in love, that's when it does. I have a thing for him and it's perhaps the strongest I've felt in the last two years.

I'm a motherfucking masochist.

Part Un: A Kiss At The Stroke Of 12

I totally don't get my life now.

See I was a wrecked somebody a few years ago. I didn't love myself, I wasn't established in my career, and I sure as hell didn't look as good as I do now. But the funny thing is, I had a lot of luck with men. Like one after another kinda luck. 

Since the beginning of 2016, I had sensed something amiss. Love luck hasn't been on my side. Say, I met a couple who I was remotely interested in to get to know and our first date went well but something would come up (I don't know what?) in the midst and then, end of story. Strangely, the pattern followed through for the entire year and just when I thought 2017 was going to get better, the Universe decided that it is for the better of me that I remain very single. 

Ok, I do admit. I honestly don't have the time/focus to put into a relationship or another person right now. I am dedicating all of me to my career and improving myself both mentally and physically. That means I don't have time for negativity and being in a relationship means there WILL be quarrels and misunderstandings and drama isn't it? Unless it's a relationship akin to the one I had with Carl but what are the chances? Fat. Honestly speaking though, I do miss having someone who I can have earth-shattering sex and cuddle with. And apart from that, I think I would like to feel desired -- which I really am but I just want ONE to desire me. 

***

I went out on NYE to Haji Lane Street party with a vengeance. Haha, the Sex Goddess was pretty upset that she only got laid 3 times in 2016. I can't help it when my expectations are high but I do blame myself for it. "Come on Chrissy, just close your eyes and tell him not to talk. That way you wouldn't have to see his face and body and you don't have to tolerate the broken English and not-so-witty jokes." That didn't work. For I couldn't blind or deafen myself just cause Miss V is in need of some serious action. 

So I went out on NYE knowing I'll get laid. Really, that was how confident I was. Less than half an hour there, an English man came and took a cigarette from me. We spoke a little but nah, no attraction at all. Next please. 

An hour of dancing by myself later, a Israeli man came to chat me up. Cute. He had a septum piercing, lush thick beard and totally looked like your favourite kinda hipster. "What does this person do? And how much does he make," I thought to myself and decided not to have anything to do with him. But it doesn't end there.

"Guess correct where I'm from and I shall give you a kiss," said septum piercing. 

"Israel."

His eyes widened and asked how did I know.

If I had guessed it wrong, you would have said I guessed it right because you want to kiss me. 

Dude.

So he went for it, grabbed me by both cheeks and held me close to him. I pushed him away and told him to come back at 12. No way was I going to kiss someone before 12. 

As the new year drew near, time was ticking, I wasn't panicking if I would go home with somebody or will I have someone to kiss when we usher in 2017. Then came him... 

K came at 11:53pm and took Y's spot. She then screamed at him "Hey, you stole my spot!" He went apologetic and started talking to me. In less than two hours, 3 guys. /pats self on back 

K had this really strong english accent but he totally looked Asian. He reminded me so much of Mark T'wang and it's of little wonder why after I found out what he does for a living. I reminded him to remember to kiss somebody at midnight. 

11:58pm. 

"Hey you wanna get to the middle of the crowd when the countdown begins?" asked K. 

"Sure, let's do it!" 

He grabbed my hand and I then grabbed Y and we pushed our way into the crowd. With a beer in my hand, I ready myself mentally for the new year. 

"Everyone! We're only 20 seconds away from the new year now!" screamed the not-very-good DJ. 

K looked at me. When the countdown began at T-minus 10 seconds, he took me and pressed his lips on mine. I liked the way he smell, taste and kiss. The crowd cheered as the last digit of the year changed. We continued to kiss. We parted our lips and looked at each other and kissed again.

Kiss. Look. Repeat for about 4 times.

"Great start to the fucking year." I thought to myself as Y took me and dragged me out of the place. K didn't chase. 

Ten minutes and silly-dancing by the roadside later, I walked back to where the crowd was and found him. 

"Why didn't you take my number?" I asked him.

He then took out his phone and I gave it to him.

"Are you going to forget who I am tomorrow?" I asked him.

"Yes."

I walked away. Went down to this bar at JE for darts. Didn't enjoy the place but I was too high to be a bitch about it. 

Half an hour later, K texted. 

"Hey, it's K. Why didn't you stay?"

"You didn't ask me to."

"What if I say it now?"

"I'm in the far west now playing darts."

"We should spend the night together. I enjoyed our kiss."

After some deliberation later, I found myself standing at the foot of this condo opposite Thomson Medical Centre. He came to pick me up and spoke to the security guard a little. I like this guy already. 

We didn't waste no time and started making out. To be honest, everything happened in such a blur. I remember admiring the amazing view out his bedroom window and getting naked and stopping midway to chat. We had real good convos and he's a great kisser. I was seriously overjoyed I got myself a cutie. But yes, if he hadn't been cute, I wouldn't have gone home with him. Life is unfair isn't it? 

He took off my shorts and went down on me. Fuck, it felt so good. I love being eaten out. And when he proceeded to eat my ass out, I thank all Gods in heaven for bestowing me such a great fuck. I sucked him, we kissed, he licked me some more, and we began to fuck like rabbits. 

Two shags later, I told him I needed a shower. He got up, threw me a towel and showed me where the bathroom was (fucking huge apartment). "Can I join?" he asked. "Erm, no," 

Having no makeup remover when you go out is a cardinal sin. It means you have to wash your face 54354 times to remove every shit. And having no clue where the facial wash was is another. Because I had to wash my face with body wash. 

I returned to his room and looked at his bod, the defined lines, the tightness of it and began to wonder if he is actually 30 years old like what he had said. He was lying down in bed awake when I entered the room. I started fondling him with my tits and he moaned. 

Two shags later, I decided to sleep to the happy thought of the tightness of his ass. He cuddled me from behind and when I turned to face him, he put his arm around me and held me close to his chest. "Now we're like lovers," he said. 

The next morning, we shagged twice and he made me coffee. We both stood by the window, had our coffee, admired the first daybreak of 2017 and had a few smokes. 

"You're not 30 are you?" I asked

"No, I'm 26." 

Ok, so I slept with someone 5 years my junior? Not that bad, I can live with that.

When I got home, I ran a CSI on him and found out that he's actually turning 23 this year (2017) which means he's 9 years my junior. To give you a better perspective of age difference, he was only 11 when I was 20.

I have officially become a cougar.

This is Me. This is 31.

I have a barrage of thoughts that I could go on visiting in my head again and again but I'm unable to actually write a proper article on them so I'm just going to have to break them up. Which would probably make it easier to read anyway.

2016
Great year indeed. Made a few good friends. Keep having breakthroughs in career (or at least I think), bad dates and reconnections of a couple of people who I had thought were lost. Got crazy, really angry, egged a car (the shame). Called a few people losers, one 'an arrogant prick' and decided to drop people like they are totally invaluable to me. Starting to really love myself a whole damn lot and I think that's what made me the way I am today -- no bullshit.

Sex
Sahara. Oh, but checked out a line item on the bucket list and did it with a local celebrity. A hot one mind you, and no, it's not Gurmit Singh or Mark Lee.

Love
As I've mentioned above, I went out on a few bad dates. And didn't really enjoy myself even when the dates weren't bad. I think 'unavailable' is now a tattoo on my forehead. Funny how it traveled from the back of my mind to be out exposed. Oh wait, but...

I met Benjamin a few nights ago. I think I've grown a helluva lot in the last three years. I've grown to be really different from the person who he fell for -- he doesn't has to say it because I noticed it. Still, there's a little part of me which aches for him (though I don't admit it and though I think he's not exactly the person who I thought I had been madly in love with all these years). Like I keep wondering how it's like to kiss him again. Is it the hormones?

Books
Reading 'Think Rich & Grow Rich' by Napoleon Hill now. Contextually speaking, it's as good as reading 'The Secret' again but it's more long-winded and convincing in a sense, and it's amazing how the great richest people of the world practise the belief unknowingly -- the law of attraction. You know what they say, that like attracts like and you're the person you perceive to be. I'm a sucker for LOA. Everyone knows this. It's probably the reason why I'm this strong these days.

Downed a few books earlier in the year but haven't been able to get started on the fiction that are currently sitting on the shelf. Because in my nature of work where we get to see probably thousands of words every day, you just fucking don't want to see any more of them when you have the time to yourself.

But when I do have time to myself, I lie in bed and surf the web. Dafuq?

Money
Pittance.

Alcohol
When you don't remember a thing, it doesn't count.

Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence

I love this piano piece by Ryuichi Sakamoto. It very well depicts the chaos amidst calm, much like how I'm always inside. Counting down to the big 31, I am beginning to feel I've lost the drive to seek better days for myself. I'm busy devouring whatever there's out there everyday in the digital marketing world. That seems to be the only thing I'm programmed to seek these days.

I no longer feel hyped about anything anymore. I don't remember waking up feeling I'm on top of the world. It seems, as I slowly wither, I lose myself too, bit by bit.

I do admit though, a big part of me is still living in the past. Making believe that I still go to Keppel Club, Sunrise Terrace and Snoop was still around. And when reality sets in, I could only hold all the pain in. I look indifferent on the outside, but little do people know that I'm in pain.

Why does everyone think I'm fine?

I'm not. I'm sad, lonely and most of the time I just feel like crying. But I keep telling myself not to. Because I'm well aware that being miserable isn't going to change anything. Happiness is a state of mind and not something to seek. Crying is only an amplified expression of pain and that the more you cry, the more weight it'd be on you.

She ain't you.

I don't exactly feel anything right now and neither am I occupied by any thoughts but I just really feel like writing. Maybe this will be an entry of pure randomness and it might not make sense to you, but I don't really care if it even make any sense to me at all.

I briefly went through my entries from 09 and I actually discovered something rather disturbing about myself. My writing has deteriorated. Long gone was the florid display of wordplay and that pompous tone. My vocabulary is stuck at where it used to be, if not took a downhill turn. Haven't I been reading? I have been. That's the thing.

Anyhow, I'm so sick of having to deal with men and their desire to try to get to know me. Not because I'm totally frozen inside but I think my bars are rather raised now. And it really takes a lot for me to notice you. I think I AM going to die a spinster. Doesn't really matter. Anyhow, if it's any comfort to myself (and you), I think I have a crush on somebody. Ridiculous it is, unlikely it seemed, but it happened. I am not too sure if I should tell him this? Sorry to disappoint you, it's not a her. But whatever. I just am not too sure if I should do anything at all. Cause I'm not really interested in another failure. Yes, this time around, I'm really scarred. Carl, you happy now? You managed to hurt me to this extent, push me to this far end where I lost all hopes in finding my Mr. Right. And I am not even remotely positive or confident that there is after all a Mr. Right out there for me.

Whenever I hear people say, 'your time will come. You will meet somebody right and meant for you,' I shutter. I tremble at the thought of that somebody being not good enough for me (anyone who knows me well knows that I get bored easily if you're not mentally stimulating enough) and I somewhat know that I could possibly be alone for the rest of my life? I mean, there are people who never got married, who's single and has three cats.

Carl.

Hey,

That was how we first greeted each other. You sent me a long message on OkCupid telling me how you love grooving to Disney tunes in response to what I've written on my profile. And I sent you a message only one month after, telling you to holler at me at my mobile number. Which you did, of course you did.

When we first met, I thought we hit it off well. While I didn't exactly find you attractive on our first date, your charm grew on me like a bud in spring. It was only natural it blossomed. And it sure did. You brought me to my first IMAX movie knowing I've never been to one. You were so thoughtful and kind. You still are.

As time passed, we started seeing each other very regularly and we quietly slipped into dating each other exclusively. We slipped into a relationship in a very subtle, gentle manner which seemed only natural and right. We were like long lost friends who share identical lifestyle, interests and core values. I can't remember when it was exactly but I do know this, that it didn't take long for me to fall in love with you. You're the kindest, most patient and understanding person I've ever known. You always listen to me attentively and you provided me with a support I never had. I felt safe, understood and loved.

On one early morning before dawn breaks, I told you that I love you before we bid each other goodbye. While I stood remained in your embrace, you didn't say you love me back. That's when I felt you struggling inside, trying to find a way to ease yourself out of the situation. You didn't want to lie, yet you couldn't bear to hurt me to tell me the truth. I understood this and I let go of you, bidding you goodbye as I headed home. "Maybe not now but perhaps soon" was all I could tell myself the next day and the following weeks after.

The day came when I asked if you love me. By then, I have fallen for you. I knew if you say 'no', you would have crushed me. You said 'no' but it didn't just crush just me, the both of us were. You cried because you know you really like me and you care a great deal about me. And you know you couldn't let me go because of this. So we established the understanding that we would try. We would try to build this even when we know that it was a one-sided love of mine. I took the risk, I wanted to try working things out with you because you were so dear to me. I didn't want to let you go.

Time passed us by and we built something. We shared memorable times together and took trips overseas. We hopped around town, enjoying each other's company and bringing nothing but joy to each other's life. You treated me well and with utmost respect. I tried my very best to be the best version of myself for you. We were at ease in each other's company as we pushed each other towards our dreams. I wanted us to have a future and I know if you could, you would have wanted that for us too. But the day finally arrived where you realized you couldn't do it anymore. And in order to be fair, you decided to set us free.

We've broken up for more than a year now. And we haven't heard from each other for months. Never had we been away from each other for this long. And I do know, that this void will continue to stretch into the horizon, with no arrangements of an expiry date. We will continue living this way, creating a bigger void that will only stretch further into an abyss. We might one day forget each other. We just might.

While I still remember you vividly at present, I want you to know how thankful I am to have found you; to have spent a considerable amount of time with you. Those days we had were easily the bestof my life. Even at then, I was thanking the universe for having brought you into my life. I still remain grateful today to have met you even though we have gone our separate ways.

I still think about you every day. I still miss you being around. I still miss the in-jokes we have which no one but us will ever get. I miss the chemistry of us finishing each other's sentences. And I miss so dearly, the times we goofed around at all the places we went to. Our carpool karaoke was my favourite and I know there won't be another who I'll do it with.

You mean a lot to me and you still do even after all this time. That is why I am almost certain that I will continue loving you in this quiet fashion, from afar, and in a corner on this great great world where you won't see me. I guess this is the best I can do for you now.

You still visit me in my dreams at night -- most of the times waking me up in tears. But I guess that's how I get to see you now, that's the only way I can ever be close to you again. And I think I have to live with that. I think I can live with that.

You mean so much to me. And I know you wanted so badly to be able to love me and to give me a
future. But you couldn't. Love didn't begin for you and it didn't want to be found despite you having tried for more than a year. It's not your fault. It was never your fault. You did try your best for me -- no one else but me.

I once told you that whoever has your love is one lucky girl. I remember this. And I still stand by it firmly today. Whoever she is, she has the one thing we lacked in us which we tried so painstakingly to find -- that one thing that was missing which was the only thing we ever needed in order for us to keep going.

We tried but we failed. While it's hard to say goodbye to yesterday, we had managed to. And we've come this far without each other. We've grown, aged a little and we're now back to the old days where we're strangers. I hope you'll succeed one day in finding the one for you. I know you will. And I'm happy knowing you will. I'll be happy when you do.

I love you, so very dearly and in ways you will never know. I still say this today and I'm sure I will say the same until I grow old. 98 and 3/4 percent.

You are the best, remember that.

Love, evermore,
Bunneh

The Momentum of Conundrum

I can sum up my life in three words -- no more.

"Work, workout and eat clean."

I've been living the life of an almost-recluse for as long as I remember. This is the story.

Last Christmas eve, I met Calvin. Someone who was really into me and purused me relentlessly. Then on one fine night, he kissed me and I didn't push him away. That was how he started saying we're in a relationship. Seriously.

That week, because my time was pretty much occupied by him, I strayed from Carl for a good while. We didn't talk for days, we didn't even seen each other for a while. For clarification's sake, I was trying to move on and heeding what they say about getting a rebound to do so. It worked! On the surface that is, God knows how much I was beating for Carl deep down in my heart during those times with Calvin.

Calvin and I didn't work out. Turns out he was an arrogant prick who couldn't care more about people around him besides himself. I should have noticed the signs. Who the fuck blew up his own picture in A3 size, framed and hanged it up on the wall? Who the fuck put together a collage of photos of himself on another wall? I was a little taken aback when I first went over to his place but I thought to myself that it's pretty common to love yourself this much especially after you've had all the achievements under your belt. But no. It's fucking not fucking common. Narcissism was what echoes day in and out at his place, bounces off the four walls and onto the windows then ricochet off the door. He took narcissism to a whole new level. And to think I thought I was pretty narcissistic. He put people who love taking selfies to shame.

When I ruminated over this mistake of mine, I understand why the Universe has planned for Calvin's existence in my life. He was here to help Carl and I move on. What was I thinking? Carl and I broke up a year ago and for the entire year, I had the both of us stuck at the same spot. It wasn't working out. He just wants out and I kept him around in hope that he'd change his mind. Which he never did. I imprisoned the both of us for a year. On a selfish note, I had successfully plonked a huge boulder on my life path.

You know, I miss Carl a damn lot but at the same time, I am fucking mad at him for having me replaced. The story goes... he met someone new and he's interested to know her better. They even went out on a date! But who am I to interfere? We're no longer in a relationship and I slept with Calvin and I dated Calvin for a month! So it's only fair right?

In my previous entry, I had mentioned that I haven't been single for 13 years. Which is very true. I was never single for too long and this time around, I think I'm ready to discover the true meaning of being alone. I'm just going to focus on my career, my weight loss plan and my ageing face. I will casually date men without any expectations that I'll find my happily-ever-after. I'll read a lot of books, compose poetry and learn coding. I'll spend less time on social media, the internet and cut back on drinks. I should quit smoking too.

Yup, that has been a real bad habit that I've been trying to kick for almost two decades. I think I could have lived till 80. But I think I'm going to be dead by 75.

We don't live forever do we? Thirty years later, where will we be?

The Honest Truth About Love

Today is the 15th of February of the year 2016. Exactly two years ago, Carl and I were at Sentosa. We celebrated our first Valentine's Day together at Movenpick Heritage Hotel. He had made the trip down to Lauren Bernard to get me a box of expensive chocolates. Exactly one year ago, this time I was having dinner with him at Coastes. He had arranged for this surprise dinner one week after we returned from Bali. He did it because he knows I love the sea. He knows I love Bali. Twelve days later after the Valentine Dinner by the sea, he left me.

If time is the only instrument to measure everything, if there's an unknown dimension it brings, then we're still living out our known history despite this current point of consciousness. Just that we no longer feel what we used to feel. And we no longer see what we used to see.

I read that love is a verb and it involves conscious effort from two parties so that it could live. I read that what will bring two strangers together is a perfect marriage of mutual physical, emotional and mental attraction. Love will then develop between the two as time proves. Time will measure the depth of feelings. It will take into consideration the number of breaths you two share, the number of times you fall asleep in each other's arms and all the laughter and tears. Love will find its way if the three aspects of attraction come together. 

The writer was wrong. 

When time travel in a linear fashion, love doesn't. It implodes within one then engulfs two. For Carl and I, it never imploded within him at all even when the three aspects of attraction were perfectly in place. After this whole time of trying and the number of breaths and secrets we share, I was greeted by a strange yet familiar sense of loneliness. I am now, once again, without him. I'm back to where I began initially before I met him. If we take Benjamin into count, I had Benjamin before I met Carl. And I had to leave Benjamin because 'we' were killing us both. 

And before Benjamin there was Mairah. And before Mairah there was Simon. And before Simon, there was Andy. And before Andy, there was Desmond. Going way back, I realized an honest piece of truth about myself. That is, I haven't been alone since the age of 18. 13 years in the making and I found myself sniggering at my dependency for a presence in my life. Whether having someone in my life makes me feel wanted and validate my need to feel it, or whether having someone in my life helps bring excitement into what I regard as conundrum, it all doesn't matter. It just means I need someone in my life to feel alive. Which is pretty shitty if you ask me. 

You need to love yourself in order to love someone else. If this is true, then maybe Carl doesn't love himself. 

I cannot remember when was the last time my heart aches this way. Probably when Bennett and I parted ways. If Bennett was my first true love, then Carl is the second. I guess. 

"How about Carl & You 2016," asked A. 

"It will not happen. We're off. He doesn't love me, remember?" I responded with clearly audible shattering noise of my heart and soul. 

Carl was my best friend, my partner in crime and we share the same jokes. He clearly doesn't think much of this but I think a great deal of this. I know, that it's near impossible to find someone who shares the same sense of humour. I just know this. But he's more into the new chick he met and probably he could adapt to whatever sense of humour she has and make it theirs. He's adaptive, he's a Libra. 

With tears in my eyes as I write, I can literally hear the sound of silence engulfing me with no mercy. Like a blanket, it wraps me up in the coldest fashion I've ever known and chill me down to bones. For once in my heart, there is no joy, rapture or conviviality. The dancer in me broke her legs. The singer in me got throat cancer. And the funambulist fell off the tightrope finally. Therefore, it brought out the poet and writer in me. If you've been following me for years, you would have known this about me, that I happen to have the most tragically beautiful poems and an endless stream of words whenever I'm down at the bottom. 

Fate always likes to throw me to the bottom of the dried up well. And with compliments without fail, she will always throw in a notebook and a pencil. That's how she starves me for all she ever wanted was my words of sorrow. That's how she gets her satisfaction.

I wonder what of me I will find

if I just try to,

all in the absence of you.

Oh wait... Isn't it?

I give birth to many thoughts in the wee hours. And most of these thoughts are plain horrifyingly regretful ones. I kinda am feeling pretty awesome yet shitty about myself these days. You know, takin yet another downtime from work, twice in a year is a luxury not a lot of people wish to claim their own. No Monday blues, just Mom's stares. All good and cruising.

I really HATE the initial phase of dating, getting to know someone, wanting to plunge soul deep into the person yet having to keep constantly reminding myself to hit the brakes. But wait... Am I not a strong independent woman of the 21st century who obviously can hold her ground? So why should I be holding back like a little coy peasant girl and not make any bold move at all?

"No darling, that's not how it works", said all the single women who call themselves love gurus. The other night I wailed to a friend, "I am so tired of having to have a relationship. I am so tired of games, guessing what he's thinking and all. I OBVIOUSLY want to have an earth shattering relationship and tower shaking sex (not forgetting trippy morning kisses and kitchen sex yup) all at full throttle but that's not how the game is played. I have to wear the shrimp costume and beautifully position myself at the end of the fishing line, waiting for him to come take a bite --- and mind you, one bite at a time! Don't we all live in the digital age now? This is WHY I'm so tired! I am so tired of being scared that I'll scare him away, I am so tired of having to pull the brakes. And most of the time, that just makes me feel I'm better off having a toy boy. No relationship, no love, no inordinate fascination of marriage, and hallucinations of us exchanging wedding vows."

Oh, but an honest piece of truth here: I didn't pull the brakes this time when it comes to sex. Maybe it's because of the 10-month celibacy I had, having someone desires me this way was such a big turn on. And so I couldn't keep my panties on. What a shame. Built up sexual tension is so sexy and I think I just heard you say you forgive me.

So I slept with Calvin on our sixth date. Statistically speaking, in the eyes of everyone, six dates sounds about right. But hang on, we had our six dates all in a week -- how's that? He was so into me that he had to see me every day. And I guess that did the trick for me. I got more and more into him (boy knows what he's doing oh yeah) and wanted to see him too. So before we even did the act, I pranced up and down in his living room for a good five minutes while he's in the shower (his neighbours prolly thought I was working out), recalling every dating tips and articles I have ever read on the Internet and kept questioning if I should sleep with him or not. 

"Yo, you only knew him on the 7th Dec. You first met him on the 24th Dec. Today is the 1st Jan 2016. Isn't it a little too soon? But we already had six dates! And it's perfectly fine if I check if he's a girl in disguise or not! If he's not, it's perfectly fine for me to check his package too!" 

In the end, I succumbed to my raging hormones and blamed it on New Year's Day. On a consolation note, at least, it's special. It happened on New Year's Day. And we first met on Christmas Eve. THESE must mean SOMETHING right?

And I think I am in love. 

P/S I so don't want yet another failure. 

My Epiphany

Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the time of the year. I had a sudden realization as I walked down busy streets all by myself with a haversack on my back and converse sneakers on my feet.

I realized I have been living my life wrong. Maybe not wrong but not in the way my heart tells me to.

All along I had thought I wanted fame, sense of importance and everything else that comes with having a rather reputable job. The corporate ladder is not for me, I don't wear heels. And I'm not for earning the riches and driving fast cars. I want to create and make something that will change the world. I want to save something. I want to help.

So last evening before bed, I made myself promise that I will never buy another leather bag or purse. I told myself I will cut down on my meat intake and I will try to be a vegetarian. I told myself that no animal have to die just so I could enjoy its meat. (Carl and my mom are going to be rather sad over this)

I saw yet another article on sport hunting of the largest elephant in Africa killed. I saw its lifeless body, its long white beautiful tusks. Then I saw a disgusting human being squatting next to it, posing for the camera. With a smile so wide that I just feel like giving him the Joker's scars.

I realized I have a vigilante in me. I can't stand watching the helpless being bullied. I can't stand not helping anyone.

So I promised myself that I will give unconditionally from today onwards. Do my best to protect those who can't protect themselves and help whenever I could. I will save the animals. I will.

I will even speak up for the rape victims in India. I will and I will.

I will be the voice for those who can't speak or tell a story. I will and I will.

I will save the world. Even if it means me being murdered. I will not live and die like this. I will live a true life, a meaningful one. I will not leave this world without contributing anything to it.

P/S Tony, if you're reading this, please lend me one of your suits?

Closure of Cs

I left Carl today. 

Left whatever we have built over the last two years. Left Keppel Club, Snoop, Sunrise Terrace and all the feeling of him being around, the memories and his smile. 

Love is a choice. Leaving is also a choice. 

I did my best. I really did this time. 

29th September 2015

On this fateful day, something rather big happened.

It is to me.

I had duly gone to the Superdry store at VivoCity to meet up with Alicia for a product sponsorship. Before that, I had gone to La Senza to check on the new arrivals and returned the goods I had previously loaned. Met up with Alicia at about 5:05pm and spoke with her a little on what our requirements are. Managed to catch up a little on our common friends and went on to talk about Yoga Movement.

Then the phone ranged, ding ding.

I had to look at it again. For a good 10 seconds I couldn't believe my eyes.

"[WhatsApp] B K. Siew Hi, xxxxxxxxxx"

I took the SuperdrySport collection I've picked out for Alicia and told her to go try them out. Spoke with her a little while my brain was racing up and down, to and back. And I said bye to her.

But I didn't leave the store. I had to breathe.

I hid in the storeroom and reread the message a good ten times. I was panting very heavily and for a moment I thought I was going to faint. If I were to faint there, I am sure my colleagues would have sent me to the hospital. And they will notify my boss in the office. Which will then be ridiculous so I tried hard not to pass out.

Thank god I didn't.

So it finally happened. The day I always somewhat knew would come.

He had dreamt about us the night about, about our quarrels and fights that were surely, unforgettable in his words. To me, I had let go of the unpleasant times and remembered the good ones for these two years.

Glad he remembers it's been more than two years since we last spoke. Not pleased to know that he has only been able to think about the bad times we've had for the past couple of years.

If fate has a nickname, let's dub it wicked OK? Let's agree on the existence of sheer coincidence as well because two nights before, I had dreamt about him vividly.

If I had subconsciously been practising LOA on him, and even in my dreams, I've manifested him back into my life again. Not trying to sound arrogant or cocky here, but I've always known that Thor Tan Tui and Mrs Thor will always find their way back to each other somehow. Maybe not in the romantic way, maybe not even on friendship basis. But maybe for a closure.

And this is our closure.

He had decided to let go of all the resentment and anger that he has been keeping for two years.

"Are you serious? For two years, he's only been able to think about the anger?" asked Tracy.

Later that day, I went home and had a good long stare at the diary he had previously gotten for me when he went to Germany for some military training exchange. I took it out from the box that usually sits at this corner on my bookshelf. Inside were his photos, our photos, air tickets, receipts, a couple of letters, a card and March 2013 tore off from the calendar. I am a sentimental freak.

I opened the diary and skimped through some of its pages. The last entry was dated 28th September 2015. The day after I had dreamt about him.

Through the years, there were a few entries written. Sporadically.

"Wow, I was so childish," I felt disgusted with myself.

For the next three days, I contemplated whether to return everything to him which I had meant to for the past two years. Imagine if I had given the diary back to him in 2013, there would never have been entries dated 2014. There wouldn't have been entries written just because I had wanted so much to talk to him.

You see, we did really talk a lot when we first met each other and when we're not fighting. We usually talk to each other as soon as we wake to when we sleep. Never for more than an hour did we not text each other. We have endless subjects to talk about, ideas to share and identical habits to discover in each other. That was us. We're almost like best friends. Or I would like to think now, we used to be best friends in our past life. But not this life. The Universe had decided that this is the end of this arrangement which has spanned across a few lifetimes.

On 3 October when Carl left for LA, I picked up my phone and told Benjamin I have something for him. I have my closure and that was it. I want to return everything to him, the piece of him that he had given me. And if by reading all the entries I've written him all these years could give him the bit of solace he's been seeking for for years, then please let him read it. Please let him know how I felt, how I used to think and perhaps, allow him to understand why I reacted the way I did, which resulted him in not being able to let go of the resentment and hatred he has been habouring for two years.

I wanted us to say goodbye. I know we can never live with each other. Have we been thoroughly happy for the last couple of years? At least, I would like to think so. Even though Carl and I aren't officially back together, I know and hope we will one day be able to commit to spending the rest of my life together. Whether will I be thinking about Benjamin on my deathbed when I'm 85, I don't know.

***
14th March 2013 Thursday

It was a warm night. We took off to Sentosa after our dinner at Piedra Negra. You had a beer and I had a sangria. We sat by the beach and listened to the waves. For a good moment, we both kept quiet and allowed ourselves to be, to just be in the presence of the moment, right next to each other.

"When I went to the states for this military training, Schofield Barracks to be exact, we had potatoes for meals all the time. But the food was good, they were good."