Of Soliloquy

I haven't come to terms with how we ended our relationship.

I am often reminded of that night when everything crumbles. When i left the house, he didn't stop me at all. He just sat in the car with only the intention of watching me leave. 

He didn't care. And for months, i just went on and on, needing to know if he ever really cared, or loved me, even.

I wondered how many women out there will put up with this shit.

At the end of the day, there is this little bastard called Hope. But hope works both ways.

I no longer hope that he comes back.

Without wanting to sound like a damsel in distress, i now hope that there's someone who will make me feel deserving of my heart.

Of late, he did try to keep in touch. Just today he texted me pictures of our cats and make little conversation. His actions, though, speaks otherwise. I know he wants to find his way back, but he's out there, still getting sucked into the materialism vortex.

I have walked down this path halfway. How can i look back?

He's not mine to save.

He will find his happiness and i will find mine someday.

Of Bravery

Those who know of my break up asked me why I put a six-month time frame to my recovery. 

Six months of being in limbo, of not dating, of sitting and waiting.

They asked what happens if the one i should be with came along, but I was blinded to him?

Recovery is a process. Slow but surely.

Someone reckoned that if i were to sleep next to someone, skin to skin, but nothing else happened, that's real strength  But if i build my wall high up and not letting anyone in, that's fake courage. Because there is no risk and danger.

One of the many reasons why I don't share my story with the masses is this experience is too painful to talk about. And many inputs from various sources clouds my judgment even more. Sometimes the fog is so thick, I can't even see past my own nose!

I am determined to heal properly. Minimize mistakes. I don't want to be rash. I want to be 100% certain of my decision. I don't want to leave any open doors.

I will know when i'm brave enough to love again.

Of Goodbye to Fred

I made the mistake of sharing a few really personal relationship details with Fred when I thought he was safe.

He told my ex that we've been in contact. 

I am not bothered to question his motive. All i know is, it serves no purpose.

So, why was i pissed? Because my trust was breached. I shared certain information about my relationship because i trusted him. 

I can't take back what has been said. I am trying to regain a little self control today.

However, the thing about defense mechanism is, it leaves you feeling like a bitch.

I spoke to Fred after avoiding him for a couple of days. He explained that he felt the need to tell my ex that we have been keeping in touch because another friend (and a known male gossip) saw him chatting with me and started to tease him about it.

"Your ex will know soon, and I rather he hear it from me and not from other people". He justified.

True, i had issue with the entire I-Told-Your-Ex-We've-Been-In-Contact bit. But after sitting on it for the past couple of days, I think the root cause all these bad feelings is this: Me and him being in contact.

"I'm not putting any blame on you. This is not your problem to begin with. Don't make it yours." I said.

"I'm not talking about you and your ex's problem. I am talking about you and I. I feel like i'm losing a friend".

Calmly, I told him that we need to take a step back and do some damage control. We need to accept that we should not be in contact. I take the blame. I should have just confided in my own circle of friend. 

However, what was shared was shared. I cannot take it back. I've lost control of it. 

"Moving forward, let's minimize contact. Nothing good will come out of this. You feeling paranoid and feeling the need to come clean were just the tip of the iceberg. Bigger problem awaits if we don't address the root cause of the problem. Soon your friends will gossip, and no matter how you try to explain it, people have the tendency to believe in gossips. And then you'll find yourself losing your friends because people sided with him." I explained.

I know i'm acting way ahead of myself, but i have to protect my heart. 

No one will rain on my parade.

On a lighter note, my ex wanted to meet up to return my watch yesterday. 

I didn't think i was ready to meet him.

Of All the Wrong Boys

Chinese New Year was bearable, thank you very much. 

Two men offered their time by way of massage. They didn't say it, but i can sense that clothing is optional.

I got weary of men and their intention. I love to indulged in harmless flirting, but i used to have my ex to fall back on whenever it gets too dangerous.

But now, getting out of this murky sex invitations is hard work. Telling these men that i have hope for my ex to return makes me sound like a loser.

Buses are definitely coming, but they're all the wrong buses.

Of Rolling with the Punches

I found out that one of our mutual friend is getting married this coming weekend.

I was not invited.

I think the inevitable is happening. It's time for friendship custody.

Whenever two people fall apart, friends take sides, whether you like it or not. This sucks because between my and I, I've known the groom first.

Dude from Work asked me a loaded question, "Would you go if you were invited?"

I would not, of course. I can dine in restaurants all by my lonesome, but attending wedding without a plus one? I might as well show up with a donkey if i'm gonna stick out like a sore thumb!

This news got me down in the gutter today. I know i'm way ahead of myself, but it sucks when you don't get invited anymore.

And then you have people avoiding talking about the wedding around you because they know you're not invited.

I am very determined to get out of this break up alive, but emotions fail me sometimes. I feel like most days i just roll with the punches.

Of Conflicting Self

I needed to make friends, quickly. 

That's when i met my ex's close friend, Fred.

I didn't know what happened, but one thing led to another and i can't help but to feel that i am being pursued.

A lot has changed since, for me, especially. I didn't mind going thru thick and thin with my ex, because i loved him unconditionally and we were together for more than a decade.

But now that i get to choose, i'd rather not live life the hard way.

A few months ago, a friend said that the problem with women is, we are high maintenance.

I was offended! I am self-sustaining, thank you very much.

But now, a list or a prerequisite doesn't sound too bad. I just think it's stupid to settle for someone now. Sure, you think im materialistic, but hey, I wasted 13 years not being one! 

Is it worth it?

I don't know.

So, I am conflicted. While i hate being materialistic and high maintenance  I really want to look out for number one now; Me.

And so, i moved on, with only myself in my head.

Of Singapore Part 2

It occurs to me in Singapore, you are not to smoke in any shaded area. This means that if you look up and you see the sky, then it's OK to smoke. If there's a roof over you, then you're not supposed to.

I was smoking at a shaded area on the eve of my ex's birthday when the Cute Receptionist, came down for a puff as well. I made way for him when he said "You can't smoke here in the five foot way. Come, let's smoke on the street."

A tad on the skinny side, Cute Receptionist has an arresting hair style. It's long but short at certain sides, I can't really explain in words. It's suffice to say that it suits him well, lending him a rugged edge. Standing in front of one another, we lit our cigarettes. "Which room are you in?" He asked.

Wow. Is he self inviting himself to warm my sheets? "Room 4", i answered. For added measure, i added "Bunk number 3".

Just so he won't jump into Andrea's bed instead.

He nodded and asked, "When are you checking out?"

I cleared my throat, "Tomorrow!"

He was only 20. Fresh off the national army and will be traveling to India in March. 

We spent the night talking, the conversation surrounds his romantic traveling ideas. He was so young. When he talked about his traveling dreams, i could see the youth in his eyes.

Harmless flirting was in progress. By midnight, it turned into sensual undressing (mentally). It's not so bad to be a cougar. I could move on using this man boy's body!

Snap out of it! You're not supposed to use anyone's body for six months! Two months into the break up and you're mentally raping Cute Receptionist!

I know, but i'm not even sure if his entertaining me is a form of good customer's service, or he's into me! Let's wait until he asked for my whatsapp.

And he did. After i told him that he reminds me of Chris McCandless.

And then he mentioned he is dating a 33 year old.

And then i told him I'm going to bed.

Of Singapore

I packed my bags and traveled to Singapore for the weekend. Singapore is notorious for  being unforgiving; they fined you for chewing gums, littering, and every other sins. I thought they'd welcome another sinner who needs some sort of punishment, like me.

Singapore is also hectic, even the clouds seemed to be moving a little faster. I could hear the clouds mocking, "Why are you sitting on your ass, you bum? Do something! Move!"

How can anyone keep up with a constantly mocking cloud, i'll never know.

I stayed in a darling new hostel, sharing my room with 5 other unknowns. Most of the occupants are Europeans, I can tell from the several bottles of body wash left behind in the shower. It was nice of these people to leave their toilettries for others to use. Even if they left it there without the intention of sharing two dots of body wash with the rest, how can i resist the urge to try out the 3-in-1 Nivea Shampoo, Body and Shave cream? It's not like they install a camera in each shower room.

One thing notable about Singapore is the lifestyle. I am drawn to it. You see people cycling, running, or walking their dogs, and then they enjoy their coffee in one of the many sidewalk cafes.

It's the Singaporean dream, where you cycle, run, walk your dog, and drink coffee in Starbucks in the morning and read the newspaper, preferably the New Straits Times.

I made a mental note: This lifestyle is very appealing.

I took the Original Duck Tour, on a Duck Boat. The duck boat is an amphibious remodeled Vietnamese World War II war craft that can move on land and then, ploop, straight into the water. It was really pretty cool.  

Oddly, the tour guides and the bus drivers are mostly Filipinos. While my tour guide, Marianne, gave a rather interesting narration about the Fountain of Wealth (accorded as the "World's Largest Fountain" in Guinness Book of Record, the water flowing from the fountain is a symbol of wealth and the essence of life), i thought of a career change.

Maybe i can be a tour guide in Singapore. I can be lively. And i surely can engage a sleeping crowd. And I scored A in history so i can definitely narrate better with my natural passion for history, right?

And then i factored in the fact that most of the time, i walk around with a dark cloud. Little things could irk me. When Marianne was conducting the tour, an Indian man kept signaling her to take photographs of him.

I need to appear cheerful even when i feel like stabbing that Indian man!

I mentally resigned as soon as i disembarked the boat.

While waiting for the next bus to take me on a heritage tour, a Turk sat next to me and surreptitiously asked his friend to take a picture of him, with me in it.

The problem? The friend is so much more hotter! He was wearing a red polo shirt and a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses. And when he lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, i could see an arabic passage tattoo on the inside of his bicep!

I can sense that he was very proud of his tattoos.

The bus took us past St. Andrew's Cathedral (no sight of the one-handsome-and-the-other-ugly turks in the tour bus though). One interesting fact about this cathedral is that it was struck by lighting, twice! I stared at this neo-gothic cathedral and I could see myself. 

Two major boyfriends and then I am rebuilding my life again.

One day I'll stand as mighty as St. Andrew's cathedral.