Boyfriend / Boyfiend - The Tinder Times realises having a Boyfriend doesn't make life perfect

attempting to pen my thoughts down (and vehemently ejected out of my mind) before i go back to my corporate job and tasks

today N and i had a rollercoaster-y morning 

it started with him joking that he might have to sail for another month before coming home 

i was barely awake, slowly coming back to reality after having a dream about N 

i was in a Grab car and the Grab driver somehow knew N, he said, "oh you're N's girlfriend? look i just got this letter from him!"

my first thought wasn't, "why are N and this random Grab driver friends", it was "what the fuck, N has time to write letters to THIS fella and NOT me?" i text him, and he replies that it's too hard to write a letter to me, too emotionally hard 

how apt that this dream was followed by a conversation about his dreams, in the literal sense - his aspirations and life goals

N wants to move overseas 

my first thought: let's not go anywhere where i have a history with a man 

in Singapore, when things get hard, i dont feel compelled to run to any other man - obviously no one compares to him, no connection i've had has come close 

but across Europe (i say across, but really its just 2 places), i've left unfinished business - a passionate 1 month affair abruptly and prematurely ended because of COVID, and a strange but intense textual relationship with a random psychology student - of course only in a pandemic era would these connections have been possible, propelled by a profound sense of isolation, texting under your blanket before you go to sleep, after an uneventful but also content day of watching Better Call Saul and making eggs for breakfast - these men served as my little windows of escape, my shot of adrenaline as the days bled into each other, as the months go past without being named or marked or acknowledged

im not proud of this, but i take a tiny bit of solace knowing i'm probably not alone - the allure of a foreign stranger in your pocket 

"if things get hard because of the distance, i don't want these men to be around me, like a convenient option"

"ill have no support network, no family or friends, ill need to be so strong"

my initial excitement of moving overseas with N were undercut by these fears (i have to remind myself that they are valid.. they are right?)

with N, i cant just dream of the idyllic, picturesque sights or the aimless walking down European cobbley pavements or the fully stocked supermarkets filled with endless combinations of ham and cheese sandwiches dying to be made in our kitchen 

instead i have to think of stark loneliness, i have to think of zero support, i have to think of embodying some kind of strength which i fear i don't have - physical, mental, emotional

no one tells you that lost girl + very not-lost boy = even more lost girl

N has goals - concrete, realistic, achievable, you-can-almost-smell-them type goals 

i have lofty thoughts, an inkling here and there, the draw of comfort and familiarity, the small desire to thrive in a foreign land 

i dont know when it started, i think the last time i made a good, concrete life goal decision, was when i was 12 

ever since then, its been "i-dont-know"s, "what-if"s and "if-they-can-why-cant-i"s

at the same time.. 

i can also imagine riding comfortably on the coat tails of his dreams, free-loading off of his uncertainty, basking in his love, and finding myself and my answers in the process, with a more pleasant view, cool weather, and slightly more cost-friendly oat milk coffee... that could be nice too right?

for now, i wait 

for N to come back

for us to create more memories together

for us to get to know each other on a deeper level

for us to grow our love with deep, deep roots 

because this is my first boyfriend, but part of me also hopes its my last 

The Tinder Times finds Love (... but alas... it is cruel)

i just got off the phone with my boyfriend (after slightly more than 2 months, i'm finally able to say/type the word without feeling like an imposter), and he said he might need to extend his contract by a month. i've known this before - about the volatility of his industry and the changing schedules, but hearing it again tonight, on the cusp of the most emotional few days of the month, filled me with a deep sadness. 

N works in an industry that requires the following:

• 5 or more months away from friends and family, travelling to various countries
• Vulnerability to bad weather which can result in the following:
• Not being in the physical state to call your girlfriend
• WiFi connection cutting out entirely
• A limit of 600MB of WiFi/data a day (we've estimated that a 45min video call wipes out 400MB)
• Regular shift work which means no phone use
• A job that makes you tired enough to want to nap during your free hours 

right before i fell silent on the call, thinking about the added months away from him, i made N recall our first staycation together. it was a beautiful night. if ever i were to capture every aspect of a memory in our relationship - the tastes, the smells, the sounds, the touches, the temperatures - it would be this moment. it was on this night that N went from being that mildly-SIMPy-dude-that-i-might-be-spending-too-much-time-with to something more. 

we realised that there wasn't an awkward moment between us - from the first message on Hinge to the first date - it's always been unusually effortless with N and i. 

maybe that's why i was so sad (and am always so sad) that we are so far apart for so long. the one time this relationship requires effort, and it requires ALL of it. it feels like, i've been tasked with putting on a production. i'm in charge, i can talk to other people about how hard it is, but ultimately, im in charge. we dont have budget for a script or for lights or for sound or for anything at all really, but what we have is an audience and the sense of responsibility that a director is expected to have over their production. i am so earnest about this task. i want to put on the best show possible - and it has nothing to do with the audience but has everything to do with me wanting this more than ever, dreaming about this opportunity, and being in love with the production (this analogy is strange... is N supposed to be the production?)

it's not to say our relationship is performative - believe me, i am self-aware and overthink-y enough to have ensured that i feel 100% sincere about my feelings. but now that hes gone, i do feel a bit like the relationship has been stripped of the fanfare and reduced to its most essential bits - 2 sentient beings and some feelings. 

i hold on to the memory of our relationship more so than the relationship itself in its current state (i.e. 2 pixelated faces on 10-minute WhatsApp calls) i find myself having to recall conversations where i felt a deep connection with him, or to look back on videos of us having sex, ignoring the sex itself and focusing on the way to touches my face tenderly, or scroll all the way up to our first conversations about having feelings for each other. sometimes, we can re-capture this feeling on calls together, and ultimately, i do love him enough without empirical reinforcement, but it makes me feel just a tad bit existential about what we have. 

but whats the alternative? a chaotic single life which includes prematurely sleeping with the right people and having dinner & drinks with the wrong people - coupled with the nagging feeling of, "is there something wrong with me?" but its not fair to think of what i have with N as the antithesis to singlehood. it doesnt feel fair, no... it feels too sacred to compare what we have to my past or to singlehood, or to think of the absence of a relationship with N at all - i just want to think of it within the universe of our relationship. 

so let's recap:

• I can't not be with N
• N can't not be apart from me for at least 5 months twice a year
• N's WiFi can't not be shitty and limited 
• My memory cant not be shitty 

whats a girl to do... 

ode to d___: remembering and forgetting

d and i matched roughly 5 years ago when i was 18 - i was in the thick of IB and i downloaded bumble after seeing my best friend use it. it was a fun distraction from the hullabaloo of studying. the details are kinda murky but d and i began chatting and there was an instant comfort - maybe because he wasnt trying to gEt in my pants like the other guys. d taught me SO much. initially, i thought i was the better looking one and the laws of physics meant that HE would fall for ME. but i was soon proven wrong. i think i started to develop some sort of feeling toward d - how could i not, we were chatting, sharing music, bantering on a daily basis. on the night before my ib exams, i couldnt sleep and somehow he ended up calling me up at like 2/3am and talking to me, calming me down. the perfect recipe to fall for someone! when i finally told d i liked (i would come to do this multiple times over the course of our friendship). once again im a lil iffy on the timelines but i soon came to know that he was in ABSOLUTE LOVE WITH SOMEONE. he tells me her name, i search her up and begin to think of her as my competitor - my beautiful competitor. i made myself feel bad over this, agonised over the fact that i wasnt pretty or interesting enough for this fella. over the years of our friendship, i would attempt to break it off because i was having a hard time trying to hold up my platonic end of the bargain (at one point, i had resorted to changing his contact name to: D___ (PLATONIC), hoping that the visual association would translate into an emotional and cerebral one). throughout all of this, it was always so hard for me to identify if i really liked d, if i liked the idea of him, if i was just attracted to what i couldnt have - i couldnt really resolve any of this even if i superficially thought so. then, something happened. d and i started fooling around and my 18-year old self felt so redeemed, validated and affirmed. i always took issue with the fact that he didnt like me - it didnt make sense that he didnt feel anything but a desire for friendship - throughout the years whenever i attempted to dissolve the friendship, he would come back and resurrect it. so finally, finally i got my 4 year delayed redemption - he AT LEAST found me physically attractive. it was also the first time i was actually friends with a sexual-ish partner. credit where credit is due, d thought me (maybe not intentionally) that someone could respect me as a person, appreciate my personality, AND be attracted to me. before this, all these things were affirmed in compartmentalised ways - manifesting in deep platonic friendships and the most superficial physical-based casual flings. d also inculcated in me a desire for a softer, gentler approach to the ~sexual~. so here we were, having our little trysts and maintaining our friendship (with bouts of flirtation). i knew d had feelings for someone, so i told him, i think i need you to tell me when those feelings get strong, break it to me in a gentle way and we can end things. credit where credit is due again, d did this after a few months and he DID do it in a respectful and gentle manner. so the question is, why did i feel bad, go to counselling, talk about it there, feel shitty and not reply / reciprocate his request to call and talk about it? here is a conversation between d, myself, my lower order self and my higher order self that i think encapsulates this - 

myself: me like u

d: ok but i dont like u, friends?

myself: ok i try 

lower order self: he doesnt like me wtf? am i not hot? arent i hotter than him? why is this happening?

- friendship on and off over 4 years -

myself: ok i can do this, we can be friends, ill stop being crazy 

d: youre not crazy but yay ok friends! 

- sudden flirtation on his part - 

lower order self / myself: what is going on... why is he giving me these signals 

d: *being cheeky*

myself: ok do u wanna make out or what

d: okie 

- we do ~stuff~ - 

d: i like someone but dw nothings gonna happen 

myself: can can, tell me when u wanna end this and go pursue something with her

higher order self: good job, you made the boundaries and u protect yourself. love u, get that booty. 

d: u sure u dont wanna stop now?

myself: nope lets keep going

- time passes - 

d: i like that girl can we end things (he says it in a nicer way than this haha)

myself: oh

lower order self: oh 

higher order self: oh 

lower order self: you have broken the association i have developed - d + me = me = validated sexually / physically 

myself: can i have some time

d: ok take time

- time passes -

d: talk?

myself: im busy 

- time passes - 

myself: talk?

d: its okay im over it 

- time passes - 

myself: sorry i ruined things 

d: its okay i have some opinions, ill reserve them so as to not hurt you

myself: okie thank u for the friendship over the years, bye

- friendship ends -

ok readers, can u see what i did?

in reality, d didnt do anything wrong. but i had an entire subtext playing in my head where d's actions were attached to how attractive i thought i was / what i conceived my worth to be. 

this realisation hit me like a TRUCK - i knew this on some level but for the first time i FELT it more palpably. ultimately, i did d dirty. i told him one thing and acted the other way. i blame myself but i also empathise and feel bad for myself and my misguided actions. 

i dont want to repeat what i did with d... or even b... and especially v (those who know, know)

i want my actions to be compatible with reality and cohere with the actions of someone who loves themselves

godspeed to me

An Evaluation of My Dates

my first date with V came at an opportune time - D and i had just ended our arrangement and i was feeling unwanted. it's not that i wanted to have something with D, on some level i was jealous that he had the ability to develop feelings for people and i wanted in on that wholesome shit, i was also just said that he took my cookie away (the cookie in question = making out). 

my counsellor said that it also sounded like the decision to end things was made by D - hes not wrong, i told D, if your feelings for her get intense, we'll call it off. this was my effort to exert control over a situation i didnt have control over. i didnt expect to be so upset, i told D i needed some time - i felt very much like an uncool, overemotional, irrational person. my middle name is anything but "chill". 

during the date with V, i tried my best to put anything regarding sex out of mind. i focused on getting to know him, talking about myself etc. we ended up talking a lot about his work, which i found very interesting - he kept pausing to ask me if i was bored by the topic. but no, i loved it, i ate up this mundane chit-chat shit! we sampled some beers, rated them and gawked at people who ordered the beers we hated. 

it was such a great date - super refreshing! i even felt a ~semblance~ of a connection, which i never do. then came, part 2, the main act, the part that always comes. 

he was walking me back to my dorm, after joking about being drunk, he went in for a kiss, and i froze. this was the antithesis to the nice-chill-good-girl-date i was seeking. immediately, my mind went to that place, that comfortable little nook, "he just wants you for your body sis". 

i was visibly kind of shaken up and he knew something was up. he kept trying to placate me with "its okay" and "dont overthink". was he being nice, was he missing the point or was he just trying to calm me down so we could continue on our kiss-walk??? the rest of the night was tainted by this. after rejecting his many advances, i eventually gave in - both because i was drunk and because i'd convinced myself that it was okay, and it was still possible to have a nice-chill-good-girl-date in spite of this.

ok date 2! lets try this again! clean slate! i had a long lunch with J, debating how this second date should be carried out. 

a combination of things i said and things he suggested culminated in our second date taking place at his apartment with gin and tonics. a mIsTAKE! i needed to take this date into the outside world. J made me realise that if i want to give this a real shot, these horn dogs need to be out in the open, out in the wild! but alas, my efforts to transport the date outside failed, "i thought i was making you GnTs at my place 😃",  he said, and the deal was sealed. i was afraid of coming across crazy. 

so we met up at Buona Vista MRT. i wont lie, i was really excited for the date, and i havent been excited about many boy things lately. we had some chit chat about school and work on the train, i almost fell and we decided to sit our asses down, we talked about accents - see? still some good girl date shit. then we got some food, and watched music videos on his TV. ok im not trying to racial profile but this other indian guy did the EXACT same thing, he pulled up his laptop and we watched a thousand MVs. 

eventually we settled on watching FRIENDS and doing some small cuddles on the couch. ok fine, thats okay, cuddles are still in the good girl territory. but soon his hands was plastered to my breasts. in my mind: "ok this is exactly what i thought would happen. what do i do? do i want this? am i fighting it because im trying to enact some idealised version of a date thats not realistic?".

honestly, our conversation prior to this wasnt going great. im not sure why. maybe we were both tired, maybe we got too comfortable and both werent making the kind of effort youre supposed to make on a date. and honestly, i suddenly had trouble understanding him, did his accent get thicker?! soon it was become pretty obvious how different we were. he talked about tomorrowland and some EDM concert thingy and i was like 👀ok that's not my jam, but i dont have to love everything he loves. so maybe it was the bland conversation that led me to think, ok at the very least i can get some physical affection out of this night. 

but ofc, cuddles dont end at cuddles. V is generally a sweet guy but when he's horny and lustful, he gets a little scary. he got on top of me and i was like no, no, no i dont want this. then he pulled back. he just kept switching on and off like that. 

we retreated to his bedroom cos his roommate was back. while i was changing into a big shirt of his, his switch flipped again. eventually we nestled into bed and watched FRIENDS again (yes, this is what i signed up for). we even talked about our impressions of each other. unlike the other people i meet, he didnt think i seemed mature beyond my age, he didnt mean that i was immature either, but just regular mature. i could believe this. i really didnt try to make myself seem better than i was. on our hangs, ive been quite candid and transparent. i said he seemed confident but also nervous, and then at one point i had nothing else to say about him, "you know, you seem, nice". 

he got handsy again, and i just gave in (i know how this sounds, it wasnt as bad as im portraying it, i couldve got up and left, and he did stop when i asked him to, but yes, it did seem like he was half listening to me). he touched me like a virgin - inexperienced hands wandering around the wrong areas and exerting too much force to give any sense of pleasure. i tried my best not to sound like a bitch but eventually i asked if he was a virgin. he said he wasnt but hadnt had much sex because he was in a long LDR (i didnt ask more). i was trying to avoid talking about our respective pasts, his romantic and mine sexual. he briefly mentioned going through a tough time at one point, and when i asked what happened he just sort of got awkward and shrugged it off. i said he didnt seem very comfortable at emotional things, and he kind of agreed. he fell asleep really fast but i laid awake, eyes wide open. ive always had trouble sleeping with someone else, sleeping in someone else's bed. when i eventually did get some shut eye, i had a strange dream - in my dream, he was in love with his roommate's girlfriend, and i was confused and hurt, and wanted to leave. 

we woke up, had awkward sexual activity, at one point i took his hand and told him step by step, what to do with my vagina. at another point, he secretly and very quietly jerked off. 

he made me a delicious breakfast and then walked me down to wait for my grab. 

i wanted to turn to him and ask, "didnt it seem like we connected more on our first date? do you feel like we have nothing to talk about? do you feel like we dont vibe at all?" but instead, i quietly and wordlessly held his hand and waited for SGT181C (i think). 

after that, he texted that he had a great time and told me to kill my essay so we could hang out again. 

should we go out again? i have no clue. part of me wants to attempt to reignite whatever semblance of connection we had the first time and go out in a very public place (i suggested the zoo and he didnt seem too keen). i have a tendency to write people off very fast, too fast, and regret it a little bit later when we become friends. i really dont know. i definitely dont want to be sexual with him again, but at the same time, i dont want to end things just yet? because maybe if i dig a little deeper and have more good girl dates with him, we could have something?

but then what? we have something but we still have this massive sexual incompatibility? 

i know im trying to prove something to myself. that im capable of being known and knowing someone else in a romantic context. i think im in search for this, and i want this more than i want an actual relationship. but, i cant have this without an actual relationship?

i feel like anyone who reads this would tell me not to see him again. i tried, i dug, but im digging a hole. move on? take another man break? try the same principle with other suitors and eventually see if something works out? focus on more important things like my career / my future? 

Breaking Point

Today, I had to sit and wonder once again, why doesn't this man respect me?

I am tired. I am done. 

I feel like I am screaming at men to respect me and I am so so tired. 

Somehow, respect for the sexual woman is such a struggle. 

Why does it feel like respect comes so much more easily for other women?

I had to lie down on my bed, between e-lectures, covering my eyes with my forearms and chanting, "you deserve to be respected, you deserve dignity, you do so much". I had to come out of that and realise I was wasting time. Time that could be spent feeling good about myself and continuing to do everything I need to do. 

On Loving Someone You Barely Know

R messaged with some bad news and i havent been able to get it out of my head.

so he hasnt been replying much lately, with other guys my defence mechanisms wouldve kicked in - okay dont look too eager, it seems like hes pulling away, time to play the game who have can act cooler; colder. but lets be real.. anyone who knows me knows i suck at being cold. and if he did pull away, it would absolute sense. we couldnt be physically further apart, and he has a full life with children and a job. out of everyone, all the other men ive encountered, he has the most legitimate reason to essentially... ignore me...

its funny. J has told me before: you should expect more, you shouldnt let them treat you like that, cut him off he sounds nasty.

my resistance to cutting these guys off at the first sign of aforementioned nasty behaviour was a mixture of wanting to believe in the good of people + being in denial that i wasnt being treated with respect.

where does this come from? how can i begin to unpack this? is it just something you learn with experience?

i feel so much love for R (i guess im not exactly in love with him). and i felt like that was wrong. i felt like i simply loved him for being kind to me. its honestly tiring to continuously question your feelings: are you only in love with the idea of him? is this just a case ~daddy issues~? is it because hes the first guy you feel secure with?

i honestly feel a lil crazy haha. ive been thinking about him and this bad incident of his the whole morning. the man doesnt like much in this world, i cant imagine what effect this would have on him. im touched that he let me in like this? maybe im blowing it out of proportion but he's only let me in on his emotions in the tiniest drips and drabs - can i blame him though. im just a young punk making a cameo appearance in the third act of his life hahah.

ive been thinking how i can get myself back to the Netherlands. is there an expiration date to this, or can we pick up from where we left off even years down the road? would he really be okay with him living with him for awhile or was that just something he said in the moment?

one little fantasy ive been holding onto is heading down there for a short stint - a job or internship or something - staying with him, getting domestic, cooking and watching things together, making myself scarce when his kids come to visit, popping over to Denmark to see my darling M or to London to see my beautiful aunt and cousins.

i feel like its such a waste that we had planned all these things to do together, and never got around to it. ofc i'd need some excuse (the internship/job) to underplay how crazy it'd be for me to fly 17 hours for a man i kinda barely know.

i keep saying "youre so beautiful" in my head. which is such a cheesy thing to think, but i feel that a lot about him?

okay so ultimately, this post is for anyone who feels crazy for loving someone they barely know. as with all things crazy, dont worry im one step ahead of you.

to R, with love

i was a casualty in the recent premature termination of exchange - the forceful eviction from a foreign land back to the home land.

why does it feel like the opposite?

right now i feel hopeless - i know this is a crazy, temporary, all-consuming feeling - i feel hopeless that i will ever love Singapore like i did before, now that ive had a taste of something so different.

ive had a taste of picturesque blue skies, alongside glistening canals, amongst the flurry of disgruntled bikers; ive had to fight against the cold harsh winds, unpredictable Parisian streets, gushes of rain blurring my vision.

ive been to a land where i dont feel different, out of the norm, ugly, even.

and R, of course no post would be complete without a guest appearance by a man who plays a part in my narrative.

A and I spoke a lot about how our fathers failed us, we constantly saw touching scenes of father and child, welling up at the loss of our own such innocence.

i dont want to think that this has anything to do wth R. i really hope not.

but if im forcing a narrative or a story arc out of this, this is the only way it makes sense for me?

why else would the universe send me into the comforting arms of a man twice my age?

i felt so safe with him, close to no second-guessing, for the first time, a man's words were not lines to be read in between, they were simply words.

"there were so many things i wanted to do with you" - was simply that.

its easy to romanticise the time we had together, it was too early for things to go shit as they routinely did. but part of me cant help but wonder, could it have just gotten better with time?

i think im done. im done looking for the hidden life lessons behind every male encounter. R makes me want to believe that sometimes good things can come to me, for no reason in particular.

i think i know how to be myself now, more importantly, i think ive learnt how to be enough for myself.

rushing home to cook a dish id been fantasising about earlier in the day, and settling down with my laptop to rewatch old shows that have a special place in my heart - ultimately, this was my favourite thing to do, miles away from home.


this was my first piece of writing about R:

ive taken a lover - sounds dramatic right.

JK.

so i started hanging out/having sex with this 43 year old guy. our first hang was very pleasant, we felt comfortable with each other very fast (the boredom and utter lack of connection with my previous date still looming over). but i feel a bit weird after having sex so im trying to make sense of it here. do my impulses reflect my true intentions? barely 20 minutes in we were seated, watching a random flock of flamingoes, and i initiate the physical with a "are you gonna kiss me?" - do i regret starting too soon? i feel more vulnerable with clothes on, where all we will have are our words and thoughts, not caresses and touches. have i grown so comfortable with communicating with men in this manner that i have lost my voice? or, does that just reflect my true intentions - maybe my mind doesn't want to engage with him? it doesn't see it is as worthwhile investment? why then, do i agonise over my inability to communicate. he said something strange about gender equality/feminism and i didn't know how to respond.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

im glad to have proven myself wrong. im glad he turned out to be a source of happy, of comfort. i will never forget him. i have the wrappers from our juice bottles. i dont want to forget what it was like being in his arms, his overwhelming scent, his forceful touch. but time will catch up with me, no matter how much i fight it. and soon this post will read as melodrama to me. but thats okay.

when things dont go your way for the 700th time

the universe has taken upon itself to ensure that i cease online dating
for the umpteenth time, something has not gone my way. i finally realise why this was is and continues to be so upsetting. it is a cognitive dissonance of sorts. when what you imagine and what happens in reality completely mismatch - like a mini shock to your system.

my butt is a blessing and a curse, but mostly a curse
i feel like a pornstar who's trying to break out of the scene and change her line of work. there is for sure an element of self sabotage and lack of control on my part. perhaps the ideal hang/bang situation i envision is not something that can even happen - for anyone.

having sex does not mean i deserve less respect  
i fear that i have grown accustom to inherently distrusting men. recently after sexting, a guy said he had a family emergency, wasnt in a good place and didnt want to meet anymore. my deep distrust led me to actually entertain the thought that he could be lying, and even im being honest, 5% of me still thinks that. which makes me ugly honestly. this distrust can manifest in a self-centeredness that i resent.

i am running out of lessons to learn 
i feel like ive learnt every lesson out there. ive nursed the hurt from being ghosted, from him liking someone else and from a simple lack of reciprocity.

the. irony. of. just. wanting. to. have. sex. with. someone. i. vibe. with. 
what does this connote? hassle free, problem free, light, easy.
what does this entail? uncertainty, lack of closure, ambiguity.

stop having sex?
starting to believe that this is the answer. perhaps, yes, it does feed into the madonna-whore complex. but i am also just utterly tired. so maybe i stop fighting, stop trying to defy the norm.

why online dating makes me wanna cry

WAIT, I THOUGHT THIS BITCH WAS ON A HIATUS? WHAT SHE DOIN BACK ONLINE?

i shall begin with a small story time (i wish i had the balls to actually do videos and post them online but the possibility of working in government/as a teacher looms over me).

after a 9/10 month dating app hiatus (except for that one time i had a mini breakdown while studying for finals and used tinder web for a few minutes), i finally found myself typing up "bumble.com" in my search bar one fateful afternoon (after promising my lunch buddy "ya ok what you say makes sense, i wont go back to the apps"). what possessed me to do this? most likely a combination of boredom and desire for male attention. i selected my pictures - picture 1: cute picture of me in sunlight taken by D, picture 2: a quirky picture of me laughing and showing off me b00ty taken by B and picture 3: a simple cute smiley photo of me against some foliage (lets see if you can already spot my rookie mistake).

after swiping right on every guy for awhile (i was trying to leave it up to fate rather than choice) bumble finally stopped me with its right-swiping-limit and i went to bed. the next day i woke to a bunch of matches and naturally, felt validated - they like me !

but then came scrolling through and deciding who to actually talk to (still prefer this to being bombarded with 50 "hi how are you"s - 50? i exaggerate, im cute but not 50-messages-on-tinder-cute).

so look, im not trying to be racist or xenophobic, but i was trying to sieve out the guys who might be from india. as someone who likes brown dudes, i have not-so-unintentionally gone out with AND slept with more men from india than i have from singapore. tried and tested, i havent exactly gotten along with them - we always reach a wall, especially when it comes to humour. i dont have much luck in dating as it is so i just wanted increase probability of vibing by talking to sinGaporean men. so that was my little prelude, please dont get me wrong dear readers.

WHO AM I?

so i deliver some quality bantery messages to a handful of guys - top notch stuff. but then i realise, i've forgotten how to talk to boys. sending the first message is like composing a tweet, one-way, quippy, funny, more so for your entertainment. but once they reply, it becomes a two-way thing.

suddenly im stuck.

stumped.

to the guy with the bio "the best indian you'll ever takeaway" do i say, "yeah i love eating indian food if you know what i mean ;)" - because thats my default! innuendo-riddled sexy fun timez messages! but no, thats not what we're doing anymore. we're trying to nOT have meaningless sex with strangers remember. so... what do i do, what do i say? i went on a date with a guy (with whom i am now pals with, shout out to you D!), and he told me i was coming off too strong with the whole "tell me how you REALLY feel, who are you REALLY", so i was trying not to veer into that either. avoid the extremes! so this was obstacle number 1: how the fuck am i supposed to be my authentic self...

i decided: dont put so much pressure on what youre saying exactly, just have the right intentions

the right intentions being: get to know him, not bone him

and with that i merrily chatted with a few suitors

WHO ARE THEY AND WHAT THE HELL DO THEY WANT FROM ME? 

one guy in particular catches my attention. our conversation flows really easily (its indian takeaway man). we move to telegram real fast (i was hesitant but i was also trying not to second guess things too much, "go with the flow" as the kids say). i made it a point to not explicitly say, "oh im looking to vibe with someone and then possibly have sex with them" - in the past ive been very upfront with my intentions, but ive learnt that this kind of robs the connection of genuinely developing. instead of actually engaging with them, i have an internal checklist of what should/shouldnt happen. so this time, im free and easy (not like THAT).

after a few messages, i realise he's being a bit overtly flirty with the "hey sexy"s and "is that ass real", but okay, i excuse it because he also asks more innocuous questions like, "what do you look for in a guy" and "what're you up to". i dont encourage the flirty messages, i deflect them by asking more questions instead (nice one girl, there was a time when you wouldve jumped on the opportunity to send someone a naked picture). i pat myself on the back for being a good converser with this man. eventually we decide to meet and THAT'S when things get hella confusing.

firstly, he refuses to pick me up even though its along the way. is this a red flag? am i asking for too much? should i insist on it to make a statement about what kind of girl i am?

secondly, upon meeting he cannot. shut. up. about how pretty i am. yall, im not trying to be self-deprecating, i know i am pretty and hot and all, but no one has gone on and on about it like him. it confused me more so than validated me.

thirdly, all this below:
so after grabbing my hand a few times in the car and interlocking his with mine, we get to mount faber. i think to myself: great, we can walk and talk, and attempt to get to know each other. but then, all hell breaks loose. fella keeps touching my ass, says weird things like "do you know how many other girls i cancelled on to meet you, i wanted to see if that ass was real". i thoroughly regretted my cheeky (pun always intended) ass pic immediately.

the thing is, i really wouldnt mind something casual. i would just like to talk first and establish some vibing before getting into that. at this point, i was sick of being sexualised, i dont need it no more! but, he's hella cute and very attractive despite all this, and i proceed to engage in risque activity with him. i apologise to my country for soiling mount faber like this!

some particularly weird moments during said activity:
- him grabbing my neck and pulling me into his face to kiss him, ignoring my "your hurting me"s
- him kissing me while i was mid-sentence
- him talking a lot about himself (this one i didnt hate, but i'd like to be asked questions too)
- his dogged insistence on fixing my jaw even though i said no multiple times (he proceeded to semi-erotically coerce me into opening and closing my mouth while he pressed on my jaw. only a man has the confidence to play doctor amirite)
- him doing other stuff despite me saying no multiple times

to his credit: maybe i wasnt saying no convincingly enough. maybe i did actually want it? maybe i was distracted because he was cute. i really dont know.

even though i didnt want to, i launched into a small monologue about how i was trying to change my ways, but it was met with indifference.

okay so thats all he wanted, to have sex with me. noted.

THE AMBIGUITY, THE FUCKING AMBIGUITY 

okay so the next day, fully aware of what he wants, i think to myself, "maybe having a fk buddy before i fly off isnt such a bad thing". i ask him if he wants to meet up and im met with a cold, disinterested message.

i shouldnt let this get to me right? but i did. not because he "rejected" me, but because i was upset with myself.

had i undone my 9-10 months of work? all the growing i was trying to do? 10 months later and i end up in the exact position that prompted me to go on a hiatus in the first place.

my mini spiral leads me to question, am i even capable of letting a man get to know me and getting to know a man (in a non-platonic capacity ofc, shout out to my male friends reading this, love yall boos)?

i am fed up with being in these positions. the grayest of gray situationships where being treated like a human being is a delightful surprise more so than the status quo and where i am always in a state of confusion as to who i am or what i want.

THE END 

so i go home. delete his messages and telegram contact. delete my bumble.com account. and meet my friend for gengki sushi to nurse my sadness.

and folks, this is why dating apps make me wanna cry.

why i stopped having sex with men i did not know

my earliest memory of romantic love (in relation to me) is this vivid dream i used to have - a man was on the brink of death, an apparition appears illuminated by my night light, she tells me that this man will die unless i love him, i agree to love him immediately, to save him. why do i agree to marry and love him so easily? why was my first conception of romantic love so linked with death?

if this is indicative of how i first became acquainted with love, then what was my first perception of sex?

when i was 13/14, i accidentally sexted a boy i met from this religious thing i used to go to. i was in my living room, sleeping on the couch (even though i had a perfectly good bed a few steps away), on my little Nokia phone, a luxury i was still getting used to, i was engaging in one of my first real "sms conversations". me and A were secret friends. at the religious place, we barely spoke, but for some reason, we texted a lot. it was odd. i didnt like being associated with him in real life. but the secrecy, the clandestine texts, reeled me in. A wanted to be a fashion designer. i knew he had to be gay. but he here he was texting me about some other girl he liked. we started playing an sms-text game of would you rather - we slowly transitioned from "would you rather nipples on your eyelashes or eyelashes on your nipple?", to "would you rather big boobs or small boobs?"

we both started feeling tingly - for me it was a tingly characterised by wetness, for him it was a tingly characterised by hardness.

my first brush with sex. post would-you-rather-sexting, my proverbial dry spell would go on to last about 5 years. until i actively sought it out.

it'd be reductive to say it was peer pressure. on C's bed, during one of our many sleepovers, she was telling me about the recent sex she had with her then boyfriend when i suddenly blurted out, "it feels like you've all been invited to a party and im the only one who hasnt been invited". (i always did like a party heheh). but it wasnt the act of "sex" that i felt like i was missing out on, it was the act of "feeling sexually desired".

ive always a sort of disjuncture between thinking i was pretty but realising that other people didnt think the same way. i used to think i had an actual shot with my childhood crush J, until i dug up an old photo of us in kindergarten and realised i was thrice his size. maybe not so much pretty, but attractive - i've always thought i was attractive because attraction (in my head) takes into account the person's personality. i think i have a nice personality. but, bit by bit, little me realised people werent always going to see it. what did they see was an obese little girl, red from running (mostly walking) around the netball court in TAF club. boys did not give me the time of day. i thought my neighbourhood-pal was cute but when i tried playing badminton, i distinctly remember him laughing at me and calling me some sort of fat-related insult. i think i skipped ahead to sex to compensate for all the years of feeling undesired - to me, sex was the most powerful indication of attraction, an attraction so alluring that it coerced someone into action, to act on it. having sex was a big fuck you to the boys i used to play with on the playground. 

i can separate the physical act from emotion, yes. but what i didnt foresee was that it'd be disappointing to skip ahead to attraction-affirming-sex. because it skipped past a part of myself that i love: my personality. my approach was disaggregated - i tried to neatly segregate parts of myself and affirm what i thought i lacked affirmation in. i'm not gonna lie, it did work. knowing and experiencing that there were people in the world who were attracted to me and wanted to have sex with me did have a profound impact on how i saw myself. to an extent, it un-did the years of feeling undesired, feeling neglected or looked pass, but i would be constantly disappointed (to different extents) when these men didnt fall in love with who i was. a weirdly inflated ego i have. i'd unconsciously make myself extra charming, extra understanding, extra funny, extra articulate, and yet, all these men wanted to do was to spank my ass. my new conundrum: why were they not falling in love with me? is my personality not as amazing as i thought? do i have to fix this now?

so i lost myself a little bit. it's not that i didnt know who i was. i did, i really did and do. i just struggle to show it on dates(?) and ambiguous interactions with men(?). i could easily be a body to them but i didnt know how to be a person. D kind of shared this sentiment, she wrote a poem about how out of body it felt to have sex. not because the sex was gREAT. out of body in the literal sense, like we literally felt like we were outside of our body, riding a random bearded indian fella we met online a few hours ago. subconsciously, i yearned for them to know me.

i only became cognisant of this when i had a brief encounter with someone who somewhat married "knowing me" and "fucking me". it gave me soOoo much satisfaction that he could say things like he liked that i was independent, out-going, confident, and not just that he liked my ass, breasts, soft hands. i became even more cognisant of it when this was abruptly taken away from me. this man became a ghost (geddit, cos he ghosted me) but more importantly, this unity of my physical attraction and personality, ghosted off with him. my tiny brush with a more holistic sense of affirmation.

ok this is why i stopped having (a lot) of sex with (strangers). for one, i didnt want this to happen to me again because it was so hard to recover from. my friends and i almost got in am accident and my first thought was that my last thought was being sad over a man i barely truly knew and who barely truly knew me. for awhile i didnt trust myself to make correct decisions about boys.

"youre going to get yourself into this situation again, because you've programmed yourself to expect the bare minimum and be happy with the bare minimum. so you're going to do this again because you cant fathom how to expect more".

okay something about that little sentence makes my uncomfortable but i wont delete it. its not that these men were monsters, they entered into something purely physical, its just that they werent the nicest about it + i had some weird expectation that they would be so enamoured by me. so its not their faults, no.

my little break has served me well. in this time ive voiced out when i wanted to stop having sex with a man because i realised i wasnt attracted to him, had sex with a complete stranger and left immediately after because i realised i didnt particularly enjoy it or his company and had actual good sex where i had the space to voice out what i wanted.

baby steps.

i still like having sex and i dont think i can get used to a life where i go cold-turkey. but im appreciating it now for other reasons: no more rhetoric about affirmation - the only thing these men need to give me are orgasms and some kindness. they dont need to be fixing my years of insecurities.

now in my second attempt, i want to have sex with people that i attempt to get to know first. i want us both to make an earnest attempt at getting to know each other so the sex feel fuller, more whole. im still not out there tryna look for loVe or a reLationship. its taken me awhile but i truly dont want those things anymore. i like being a little free. ok some people have laughed and said that sex + vibing is basically a relationship with no commitment. but i think its different. (ok i could be wrong, like ive said before, i am not to be trusted). but it feels different??

who knows honestly. maybe the true secret to my happiness is celibacy.

thank you for reading this incoherent blabber. i will revisit this in my dark times, when i forget who i am. (or maybe when im in bed once more with a stranger)

Playing Boyfriend with my Boy Friends

I'm not sure how this started, but somewhere along the way, I started confiding in boys who were virtually strangers. Every time I started a "texting relationship" with a guy I matched with, it didn't take much for me to start pouring out my deepest secrets and feelings. I think, in my innocent young mind, I thought that the more open I was with them, the higher the likelihood that they'd fall in love with me. Maybe, if I try to psychoanalyse myself, this is a result of all the media that I consumed as an impressionable girl that fed me the narrative (that I consumed without resistance): pretty girls get the guys, fat girls were fun sidekicks at best.

I sincerely thought, I needed to lose weight in order for anyone to fall in love with me.

Something else has been happening these days. It's a bit more ambiguous, a bit more insidious, I'm not sure if its as "bad". I've gotten into the habit of assessing my male friends, assessing whether they can be something more, more than friendship. Friendship and more-than-friendship suddenly become permeable spaces. Maybe this only happens with a few guys right? That wouldn't be so bad? Not like EVERY male friend. Whatever it is, it's fucking irritating!

The last time this happened, I acted on the instinct that the boy must like me (he said my earrings were nice, he said he can see why guys would like me more when they're older, he said its unusual that he talks so much around me because he usually doesn't). Why do I value these comments more when I interpret them as romantic statements? What does it mean to receive validation, care or support from a platonic male friend? I don't know A evaded this process - I guess because he was attached when we met or because there was just an instant sibling-like connection.

Getting closer to R happened in admittedly romantic settings - long walks at night, swinging in a park. The setting doesn't help. At first I was just happy I had a neighbourhood pal to walk with. Now I'm looking at his tagged photos going, "aww he looks so cute", thinking about him before I go to sleep sometimes, itching to text him.

What is the value of a platonic male friend to me? Do men just have a romantic expiry date for me? Am I in a bit to prove to my young self that I am worthy of love? Does that discount the love that R had for me? Is it reciprocal love I'm looking for?

I'm afraid that I'm getting in the way of organic things - of the natural growth and decay. I disrupt these processes with my questions, asked in earnest, in search of clarification. Maybe it's not always good to be clear. When you ask someone to be clear, you put the pressure on them to have an answer, to wade amongst the weeds of uncertainty and emerge with a substantial answer. It could be a premature no, or a premature yes. I have to learn to bite my tongue, especially on the words, "are you attracted to me?".

This used to be my favourite question. If I were.a character in a video game, the answer "yeah I'm attracted to you" was what made my life bar full, filled to the brim.

When did I make these synaptic connections?

Boy nice to me = Boy like me
Boy say nice thing to me = Boy want to have sex with me
Boy nice to me = I want to have sex with Boy
Boy and I vibe = Boy and I should have sex

Who snuck into my brain and embedded this into it? Un-embed it please, I am tired of wondering, I am tired of shooting myself down, I am tired of having mind sex with these boys. These nice boys, who just want to be my friend. For reasons. These nice boys who make the effort to get to know me, something my 15-year old self thought was impossible. Boys who laugh at my jokes. Boys whose jokes I laugh at. To whom I can admit openly when I don't understand an economics terms, or with whom I can candidly admit I know jack shit about stocks.

Now when one of these boys gets in a relationship, I develop a relationship too, with a pit in my stomach. But they were never mine to begin with. And they aren't mine to end with.

The Long Line Of Men Who Have Treated Me Badly And Why I Had Let Them (or maybe I'll just talk about the one that hurt me the most)

There comes a time during your (somewhat) dating life, that you start to discover a pattern. The pattern being that every male encounter that you've had has ended badly. I need to clarify that badly does not equate heartbreak. There are times where I yearn for the simplicity and beauty of heartbreak. No. This "badly" is a combination of a lot of emotional labour on your part and a lack on theirs, it is a disjunct in expectations, it is a sudden cold response - simply put, it is the beginning of the end that you are not ready to face. The last straw for me was my most recent bad ending.

I was bored one night and he messaged. His bio was kinda funny - something about shuffling between the courts of law and basketball. I think he suggested coming over after barely a few days. I remember being super hesitant. I didn't want another situation where I meet with someone with the intention of hooking up, but then simply changed my mind or realised I wasn't attracted to them. So I made it clear: can we walk around and talk a bit first before we decide? And he was completely amenable and said something to the effect of, "I wouldn't wanna do anything you wouldn't wanna do."

It's a bit of a blur now, but it was such a nice night. He tried to act cool and aloof at first, but somewhere along the way we broke the ice. I brought him to the Berlin Wall with the intention of him making a move on me (I came to learn that he hated PDA). I made a shoddy excuse about being too tired to climb all the way, and sat (seductively) on a bench. He said ok I'm gonna go see the wall, and left me. Which I find/found hilarious. Eventually we found ourselves in my room. I let my candle burn the whole night, while we caressed each other in its warm light. I felt like he was touching every part of me at the same time, tenderly. I remember laughing. It was purely sexual. It was purely hot and heavy. It was funny. It was fumble-y. I honestly don't even remember if we had sex. I just remember waking up in the morning and both of us not wanting to part. We got Starbucks and talked a little bit more about our lives, near the Utown bus stop, in broad daylight. Usually I never wanna be seen in public with any of my "conquests". He showed me his ID and sometimes I wonder if I should've memorised his address so I could've mailed him a letter when things went to shit - a letter he wouldn't have been able to ignore.

We had 3 months of bliss. Of seeing each other 3, 4, 5 times a week. Having sex. Eating breakfast. Making chai. Cleaning. Packing. Watching old British comedies. Watching some trashy Youtube comedy. Watching Brad Pitt scale mountains. Almost watching a Hindi movie (thank god it was buffering too much). Watching a film about basketball.

I still think about one night in particular.

He had just come for my theatre show the evening before. I was out with C and A. I was going on and on about missing him. Suddenly, we see him. I remember being so happy in that moment, my heart was floating. We gave him a ride back (he was drunk and made some weird Indian humour jokes, telling A to go "left-uh, left-uh"). I cringed, apologised for his behaviour and went upstairs with him. Bear in mind I was wearing a leotard and fuzzy sleep shorts. We were both so tired. He just finished a game and I just ended a show. He sat on the big armchair, I sat on top of him straddling him, my head buried in his neck and chest.

"I'm so happy I bumped into you tonight."

"Me too."

Then we talked about death. I talked about how I was sad that G couldn't watch me. He talked about someone he knew who died at a college party, I think he fell off the building.

This was our most tender moment. It was pieta-like. Frozen and slumped into each others' bodies. I'm almost tempted to end here, on this tender moment. But that wouldn't be representative of what followed, it wouldn't be an accurate story.

Contrary to the title of this post, this was the only time I felt that I hadn't done anything wrong. I was on the right page this time. I don't know where he was, or where he went.

Maybe I should sidetrack and talk about my past encounters.

We love a good listicle right, so here's a list of the mistakes I'd made in the past:

- rushed to try and define what the relationship was
- hyped the relationship up in my head during the texting phase
- settled because he loved me
- ignored the fact that we didn't vibe
- hoped that he was in love with me (even though I wasn't in love with him)
- passive aggressively texted
- ignored the fact that they were in love with someone else
- continued having sex even though there was a lack of chemistry
- travelled all the way to his house on his birthday, only for him to ignore me and play LoL
- didn't say "no" convincingly enough
- settled for less, while expecting more
- tried to find reason or rationale where it didn't exist

With V, I did what I wanted and received the respect and attention I've always wanted to expect so easily. If I ignore how things ended, this was the most healing relationship I've had with a man. It was the one that matched my mind and expectations the most. I finally let myself get comfortable. Because this man wasn't hurting me and so in my eyes, he wasn't capable of hurting me.

Okay but, the reality is that, he did hurt me. And because I didn't see it coming, this one hurt the most, it hurt the most deeply.

He brought the blissful 3 months to an end. Out of all things, he ghosted me. Something you expect from a tinder chat. Something you don't expect from someone you have been intimate and vulnerable with for 3 months. He finally did some half-assed explaining when I couldn't take it one night, and told him he was affecting my mental health. He was stressed out, having panic attacks about his masters program. I needed more of an explanation. Icing me out couldn't just be a result of academic pressure and stress. I couldn't just be reduced to a factor. But I never got an explanation beyond something to the effect of, "it's not you, it's me".

I begged for closure. I begged him for an explanation. I didn't even care what it was, I just wanted to know. In that moment, I understood fully and empathetically why people do crazy things - why they wait beneath houses, why they reach out to someone's siblings, why they want to pin someone down, why they want to scream at someone.

When someone denies you hope of closure by denying you an explanation, denying you the simple favour of explaining their feelings, it's enough to make someone simultaneously depressed and furious.

So ironically, the only man who treated me with respect, hurt me by not honouring that expectation of respect that I had come to associate with him.

Nothing I write about/to him does justice to the intensity of what I felt. The intense security and happiness I felt with him, and the intense depression and pit in my stomach that I felt at the end.

I, equal parts, am grateful for meeting him and also wish I never had. 

I Wanna Know What Love Is, I Want Me To Show Me

I'm probably not the first one to ask this, but really, what the fuck is love?

We all want it? Teenage fantasy? Maybe Jorja Smith was right.

I used to have DREAMS about love. I had this recurring dream of a man who would DIE unless I promised to marry him. I don't doubt it exists, love and all. I'm just doubting its quality. Maybe I've experienced too much second-hand romantic love already and I'm burnt out? My best friends have been in loving relationships, and I've been at the front lines. I don't say this with jealousy, once upon a time I'd have said it with jealousy, but now I say it from a comfortably numb distance.

Maybe I've also second-experienced too many breakups to actually believe that love is amazing?

I'm "seeing" this guy right now. A more accurate term would be, I am hooking up/hanging out with this guy right now. Sometimes while I'm laying next to him or staring into his eyes as we're having sex, I wonder, so how would "love" make this arrangement different?

People who engage in hook up culture are all too familiar with the performance - the heart and mind tricking performance of a relationship without the substance. Here's where I go on a tangent to elaborate on the performance - what my friend aptly terms "body canvas friction".

Today I spent almost the whole day at his place, longer than I usually stay with someone. Usually I wouldn't even be acquaintances with the men I have sex with. Here are generalised reductive one-word descriptions of the men I've hooked up with in the past (I'm actually referring to a list of their names and giving each a descriptor): confusing/mean, strange/odd, VERY odd/immoral, loving (anomaly), paranoid, odd, aggressive, inconsiderate, inexperienced, unassuming, emotionally-unavailable, confusing, nice, empty, poser-y, inexperienced.

That was actually quite fun hahah. Don't get me wrong, I'm not shitting on any of them, I was (almost) fully aware of what I was getting myself into. I had set my expectations extremely low because I realised we don't get what we imagine, even when we try to settled for second best.

Time spent with these men exists in another dimension. They are not productive hours, they are not accountable hours, they are (arguably) not meaningful hours. For some reason, memory fails you. What was the colour of the pillow you were lying down on as you so "lovingly" caressed unfamiliar nooks and bends of skin as if they were your own. Hooking up is not as wham-bam-thank you-ma'am as it is purported to be. It can be so tender and it can be so loving. But you must remind yourself that it is not real - which is often very easy to do, because once they open their mouths, the illusion is usually shattered.

What I have now is definitely an anomaly. A glitch in my sex matrix.

A man who's company I enjoy, with and without sex. An example: today I pretended to be a chaiwala with him. Not trying to immortalise this as some tender, perfect moment. Just elaborating on the glitchiness.

So how would love make this any different? How would love make this feel better? Would it offer me some unshakeable security and comfort? I can't fathom it.

For now, at this point of my life, I am content. It's like going over to a friend's house and playing with their pet, but never actually buying your own pet. You don't have to deal with cleaning shit and pee (except for the occasional accidents - yeah that's right, this analogy is getting even more real). I get to play relationship and then I get my alone time - time that I use to figure myself out, chat up other random fellas, hang out with pals, or make things.

It's so weird. I feel like I spent too much time at his place. As if there is a precise amount of time I can spend there before things start to get murky, confusing - I start to question an apathetic touch or a disinterested stare.

So yeah, what is love? Is it better than oscillating between single and performative sex/relationship?

Or am I just getting too used to this.

On Disappointing Your Friends (and Family), Amongst Other Things

This is a public declaration that I have not been a good friend (and arguably, person) this 2019. In a mere month, I have hurt (or at least pissed off/annoyed/irritated) 4 people who are close to me. If there are more, please don't come forward, I don't think I can handle it.

I don't hold myself to impossible standards. Bad grades are reasoned away with the logic that the module was bad or the professor was terrible or I wasn't in the right headspace. If I'm in a rush, you will catch me in a substandard outfit. I don't pride myself on being the most eloquent person in the room. We are all supposed to be our own worst critics. I've never entirely related to that saying. I give myself a lot of leeway and let myself make mistakes - mostly the administrative kind. Recently a friend of mine pointed out that I wasn't as caught up in the "rat race" as everyone else is in school.

But if there is one aspect in which I do conform to this saying, it is in my relationships.

I first discovered the power of friendship when I met my best friend at 14. Up till then, I always assumed family came first and then friends were temporary guests in the living room of my life. But this friend taught me that friends can be family, and that relationships can be so fulfilling. I haven't looked back since. I subtly inspect other people's friendships - I sit on my high horse of healthy relationships and superb open communication, and dispense unsolicited advice.

But when that bedrock is gone, when my relationships develop friction, I feel like I lose all legitimacy. Worse than that, I feel like I've lost myself.

My first instinct is always to get defensive. "I didn't mean it that way", "You're reading too much into it", "That wasn't my intention" but all these attempts at defending myself are instantly negated, instantly undermined, when I realise I've hurt someone I love. Nothing is more depressing.

Kinda hard to think of a silver lining, happy ending. Even as I write this in retrospect, it makes me sad. Seeing a counsellor in a few weeks, let's see if that helps. 

An Open Letter To My Beautiful Best Friend

Can I just point out that as I was writing this post, I clicked on a random playlist on Spotify and halfway through writing, I realised it was my best friend's current boyfriend's playlist. The irony am I right. 

It was a regular afternoon at the cafe I was working at. The initial anxiety that I felt at the beginning of each shift had subsided and I was looking forward to my best friend dropping - having a friendly face in a (mildly) hostile workplace.

As soon as she walked into the cafe with her boyfriend and exchanged excited smiles with me, my mildly inappropriate manager asked, as he usually did when my friends popped by, "is that your friend?".

"Yes", proud that I could show the people I worked with that I had a lot of friends and wasn't just the submissive, subservient, apologetic waitress that the FnB industry had demanded I be.

"She's beautiful."

And my heart sank.

I always knew she was beautiful. People in school who didn't really know her but were friends with me never failed to go on (to me or otherwise) about her "hot body", "great hair" and whatever other synonym for beautiful that you could think of.

In school it didn't really bother me. The multiple boys that were interested in her were never my type, and we were clad in unflattering combinations of our school uniform, so I knew my true potential wasn't being unleashed.

Okay I am literally lying to you guys. It fucking bothered me. And made me feel invisible on multiple occasions.

We are/were so close, I knew people associated us with each other and because of that, I felt like everyone was constantly drawing comparisons between our beauty (her abundance and my lack thereof).

There were times I thought it was just in my head, that people weren't that superficial, but then there was, let's call him, T.

This was maybe the first of many instances that I would later use in my head as empirical evidence that the world favoured the beautiful.

T was a cool dude - sporty, good looking, aloof enough that you'd feel honoured that he paid you any attention. We were in the same class and I guess he realised that I was pretty funny and smart. He started picking on the small things I said in class, and making fun of me - the kind of thing that makes you feel noticed. Don't get me wrong, I was very noticed in school, but male attention (I think you'll start to notice a pattern here) was different. It was a whole new level of empowering. I could get good grades, I could be the funniest person in class, occupy several leadership positions, but the one thing that always gets me is attention from the male species.

And I wasn't the only one who noticed this budding, unlikely friendship. People I barely knew would come up to me and ask my about my friendship with him, I could feel my social capital increasing.

But this wasn't just a shiny friendship that I could show off to people. This was the first time I had made a close, heterosexual male friend. A substantial friendship. I remember that this was around the time that my family was starting to become dysfunctional. One day, I was clearing our class recycling bin, trying to occupy and distract myself during a free period. I think he sensed that I was troubled, so he ran up behind me as I went downstairs to the recycling bin. I was 15 then but I can honestly say that it was one of the first genuine conversations I had had with a guy. I told him about my problems and he was sufficiently reassuring and nice.

It's possible that I'm looking at this with severely rose-tinted glasses but this is what my adolescent self felt.

Before this friendship could flourish into something more, things got complicated.

Me, T and my best friend started hanging out together. I realised that he was gradually paying more attention to her. Suddenly she was not just prettier than me but also funnier, more engaging, more interesting, more fun. Soon, they were hanging out without me. I'd like to emphasise that she is in no way evil. He was the one who was instigating everything and she was just reciprocating. But in my fragile state, I blamed her. I remember thinking, "If you care about me so much, why would you do this? Why can't you just not hang out with him?"

These are feelings from almost half a decade ago, but as much as I hate to admit it, I think I still carry a semblance of it with me. For a long time I couldn't shake the thought that guys only wanted to be friends with girls that they were attracted to. I only learnt otherwise in my first year of University where I met my now closest male friend who I love so so much.

My best friend and I got over the incident with T. One morning, when I sad in bed, she and another friend came over to my house with packets of Nasi Lemak and talked things out. We had honest and difficult conversations. I forgot why but her friendship with T fizzled out - partly due to me and partly due to the fact that he wasn't actually that great.

I know this whole post feels like I'm victimising myself. I can't apologise for that because this is how I earnestly felt.

If I'm being honest (trick statement, I'm always honest y'all), I don't think I can ever get rid of the feeling. Being jealous that every dude she comes into contact with ends up liking her to some extent, comparing my experiences against hers, trivialising her issues just a little bit because at the end of the day, hey at least you're pretty. I acknowledge that this is terrible with a capital T (pun not intended... or was it?).

At my worst, I shouted at her "what is it like to be so beautiful?" - an honest plea, genuinely wanting to know how it felt, but also wanting her to feel bad about it.

It sounds cliched but it is so easy to focus on the bad things. To let these feelings of inadequacy eclipse everything else, to let it gnaw at you, to let it corrode a wonderful friendship that has shaped me into the person that I am.

This poetically structured conclusion may sound cursory in comparison to the detailed anecdote I've penned above, but I think it captures how simple things really are when your vision is less myopic and you do not fixate on beauty:

My best friend is beautiful. She is objectively more beautiful than me. This is a fact. 

My best friend is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I cannot live without her. This is a fact.

My best friend is my family. I would not be the person I am today without her. This is a fact. 

My best friend is incredibly kind and generous to me. We will continue to be best friends until death do us part. This is a fact. 

My best friend is beautiful. I am beautiful. This is a fact. 

An Open Letter To The First Boy I (properly) Sexted

This is something I wrote about the first boy that I properly matched with on Tinder, sexted and met up to fool around on a roof with. He would also be the one to teach me that you can't always get what you want and that sometimes, people can be absolutely terrible to you, while loving the way your ass looked.

He was my first encounter with anything sexual. What started out as an innuendo-ladened chat exchange turned into my first ever steamy, sexy, sext session.

I learnt what angles made my breasts look bigger, my stomach smaller; I learnt that some men absolutely loved pubic hair and I learnt that I could derive pleasure from someone else's pleasure.

I learnt that I could be desired, sexually desired.

Me. The goofy, chubby, loud, self-deprecating, constantly red from the slightest physical exhaustion, un-lady-like, jokester. 

Then we met in real life and the sexy fantasy that we had created with our phones came to an abrupt holt.

Before that, post sexual revelation and newfound confidence in my body, I was excited to meet you. But I was also terrified that in the real world, with lighting and angles that I had no control over me, your attraction to me would disappear like every nude we had exchanged (or so we think...)

Was I attracted to him? Well, that didn't really matter did it. Because he was attracted to me, and he made it very known to me that my body made him feel things.

Problematic, twisted, indicative of some latent self-esteem issues - probably, yes. But I didn't have time to think about that, I was still trying to decide what I should wear. He lived all the way in the -insert a location in Singapore- and it just so happened that I was going to be in that area to visit my best friend in the hospital. She had just gotten out of life threatening surgery (destiny? fate? serendipity?). She fought for her life and I was picking out a thong.

I made up a half-ass excuse and left my dear, almost-dying friend to meet this lanky Indian man at -insert name of mall in Singapore-. We very covertly took the lift up to the rooftop, because apparently, living in that area meant that everyone in said area knew who he was and would tell all his friends that they saw him with a beautiful (ok, ethnically ambiguous) girl.

I later told said dying friend about this incident and we had a laugh because you could see the rooftop from her hospital room.

So, finally some alone time with my sext buddy. My tinder match. Some random dude who liked my ass. Where do we start? I'm assuming he has more experience (because... he told me he did). We have some casual but stranger banter, he proceeds to address and poke my vaginal area (boy does this guy have moves or what?). We begin kissing, or what I can only assume is kissing, and doing some of that heavy petting that they warn us about in primary school Sex Education.

I didn't feel much. I didn't feel anything. I had much more fun sexting. All those times I had wished that I had someone there to curb my sexual frustration with a cup of the breast, caress of the thigh, finger in the vagina, but no, nothing. It wasn't at all what I had built up in my head.

I would later realise that this would be somewhat recurring theme in my sexual and dating life: disappointment.

It was all (somewhat) fun and game until I realised that he was literally in love with someone. Information that I became privy to after following him on his private Instagram, something that he had insisted that I do. I had zero feelings for this man (man-boy may be a more accurate term). Okay fine, yes, I had entertained the thought of being something more for like 5 minutes, but I thought it'd be better for him, and better for me in the long run, if he just sticked to courting this girl he was so absolutely in love with. I didn't want to be forced into the undesirable position as "the other girl".

Not the girl he was in love with, but the girl whose ass he liked.

I Had You At Hello

Hello readers (which at this point, mostly consist of my close friends)

I am starting this blog because I have things to say and I need somewhere to put them, and I feel like other people want to say similar things, but don't.

I have to remain anonymous (not usually my style because I am very open) because one day I might be a teacher on this sunny island and I don't want a parent whipping out this blog (which is sure to contain lascivious content, knowing me) and using it as blackmail against me to ensure that their child is a prefect.

Now, what will this blog contain?

You can expect me to cover the following topics:

• Beauty in Singapore 
• Singlehood 
• Relationships (or lack thereof)
• Friendships 
• (online) DATING
• Sex (a lot of it) 
• Masturbation 
• Female-related products (e.g. menstrual cups)
• Insecurities 
• Jealousy 
• Academics 
• Family 
• Books 
• Films 
• Sexting
• Art 

In no way am I obliged to stick with this, and since you don't know me, you cannot hold it against me. That being said, the ONE thing I can promise you is that I will always be honest. 

Love, 

Me