WHO AM I, REALLY? (PART II)

Weeks before that, I received an SMS from Philip that he recognised the darn Fox shirt I was wearing, and asked if it was me on a placard outside Far East Guardian.

I didn’t get to see it until much later, when I was out shopping.

And I saw it littered across the shelves, cos all the packaging came along with it.

Now you know why I have no choice but to use Organics. Cos I had wanted the wrapper that came along.

The horror came one day when I checked my tag board and realised a few anonymous people recognised me from it.

*GASP IN ABSOLUTE HORROR*

Then, one night, when I went to Attica, I walked past this:

Kenny Sia said he saw it all over when he was in town for a visit back then.

Truth is, it doesn’t look like me, since my eyes were closed. Still, I didn’t want people to see it.

So I can only blog about it after they were all taken down.

***

Spent my entire National Day at home, recuperating.

Reading, surfing, yet too tired to blog.

So whatever that I wanted to say, was left till now.

Tired, you know?

***

Monday. National Day’s eve(8th).

Spent my entire day at home.

SBB got home around late noon, and called. Whilst on the phone, the doorbell rang.

Philip dropped by to loan my pair of Alpinestars racing boots, with a pack of chicken rice(not from his stall though) in tow. He had gave in reluctantly when I pleaded with him to help me buy lunch before he came over.

He had wanted to wear the white, flashy boots to track the next day.

Hence, he left his shoes at my place, and strutted away in my boots.

No, we don’t wear shoes of the same size, but I had made do with the large size since it is almost impossible for me to find boots of my size.

4 and half.

***

I don’t know if it was a beautiful coincidence or haunting reminder when I was walking on the lonely streets on late Monday night.

It was 1.20am.

I realised I was donning the exact scarlet top I had slipped on for my baptism exactly a year ago.

Wasn’t planned, definitely.

Yes, Manchester United is THE team. Okay, the point of this post is not about Manchester United, so keep your rude comments within your pea brains.

It was the day of my baptism.

I walked on.

It was a pretty night. The air was cooling.

It didn’t chill. Nor was it dense with moisture.

I didn’t sweat a bit.

The only human soul I felt and saw, was that of my own for the 30 minutes walk, as I sashayed down the deserted stretch of road from Jurong East MRT, to Science Centre, down to Chinese Garden MRT.

The night was pretty mundane, but interesting for me.

I spent quite a bit of quality time with myself, and was set into a reflective mode.

Now, that explains the cryptic entry that came from me, doesn’t it?

There was invitation to chill over beer.

There was invitation to club the house down till dawn.

There was invitation for mahjong.

Somehow, I was too tired for any of them.

Yet, bored enough to venture out of the house at 11pm, to head to the theatre.

Bewitched, I watched.

Nicole Kidman is sparklingly ravishing.

The show is only okay in my opinion.

Not one I would rave about.

I should have gone for Willy Wonka instead.

I sat in one lonely corner of the cinema, and was the first to stand up when the credit rolled.

I like watching movies alone, actually.

It was something I had no choice, but grew to like.

It was my 3rd movie of the year.

***

I strutted down the cockroach infested pavement after the midnight screening was over, and I awed myself with my ability to cope with my fear.

I browsed the quiet neighbourhood, and felt not an ounce of intimidation.

Nevermind that it was supposed to be the spooky month or what so ever.

I felt light-hearted.

I thought about a lot of things.

I also gave a lot of people a thought.

Claris, Gracie, Lisha, Filicia, Janice, Wanyi, or even, Sandra.

People in church, too.

Or some of you people who read me.

I wondered if being honest, but yet putting myself under the risk of losing friends, is well worth it.

I have been to the stage that I compromised my beliefs, and created some form of immense disappointment in people whom I once held, and still hold closest to my heart.

I think if she is reading this, she knows I am talking about her.

Would it be better that I come clean, or that I hide a part of me that people will never get to see, and hence, never know what is my problem?

I don’t know, really.

And how do I club, bitch, speak my mind, blog provocatively without being judged, preached to, criticised, and hated?

Especially from people who share the same faith and look at me as the one who fallen badly?

I mean seriously, who can take that dark part of me that I hid away so some of you won’t feel scared, freaked out, and see me without a hint of disgust?

And not to mention that I knew many you youths out there are reading my blog.

I am not a good example, I concede.

Do not be like me, really.

I know there are many Christian youths reading me too. I am touched when I read how some of you teared recently over my past entries. The guilt overwhelmed me too.

Don’t ever compromise your faith like I did.

Many inner battles I fought, which I encrypted.

***

Remember this post here?

What I had really meant, was:

And I fell, when I got home.

No, I didn’t trip physically.

Spiritually, and perhaps, figuratively, I fell back into the black well of destruction, again.

Just this patch of loneliness that further sucked me into this surreal realm of emptiness, leading to the silly deeds.

I still couldn’t cry.

I still couldn’t release my emotions with a good bawl.

I was in a daze.

I vaguely remember how I felt like a hollow shell when I walked into the other bathroom.

Straight for the blade.

Painless.

Tried again.

Numbed.

Tried again.

Nothing.

Would it be scary to say I stared at the bottle of cough syrup and rows of leftover medication right in front of me, just wanting to finish them so I could sleep?

I didn’t.

I just wanted to stay up.

Staring at my monitor.

Finally, I could feel again.

I felt some spark reignited my system, and I could feel the pain within.

I started bawling.

It felt blardy good.

At if something that was built up for a long while is finally released.

2 times.

Great relief.

It was as if I came to terms to that soft side of me, after burying it deep down for the past 5 months.

How I had cruelly denied the rights for me to admit I am, still, weak.

Eileen commented she didn’t understand my post.

Yah, I didn’t want people to know, anyway.

The hyped up conversations, endless mentions of guys here and there, blogging of parties I didn’t enjoy are no doubt funny.

Taking a mockery of my life sometimes make me feel better.

It makes me feel like a 3rd party without any attachment to the subjects, and myself, in question.

She feels I am not happy.

Yah, when am I ever?

So sad, huh.

I am alright.

I am sorry Gracie, I know I broke 2 promises in a night.

Not to fag as a way for self-abuse. Not to hurt myself.

I struggled to blog this. Yet I thought I already avoided such topics in my blog, and I don’t know where else I could hide.

Funnily, I thought of you and Clar when I broke them.

I woke up, as if unaware of what happened last night.

Only with the grazes that reminded me of the temporary insanity before.

I hope this is not the only way to remind myself I am still alive.

I am alright, don’t worry.

Breathe.

That was May. Not now. So, don’t worry.

See?

I am not the wholesome, nice girl people perceive me to be.

I ain’t lovely.

But am ugly.

To the core.

***

Typing that out doesn’t mean that I am depressed right now.

Funny thing is, I don’t feel depressed.

I feel pretty good, in a way, like as if I came to terms this part of me I so long to deny.

Or afraid to show because of what people would take me as, or how people in church would raise their brows so much that I am a condemned sinner even before I could confess it, and the incessant guilt-inducing talks that would pour my way.

***

The walk was halted when I stopped by the coffeeshop for supper.

I tucked myself away into a comfortable corner, where I know the ah bengs and the auntie would not notice me.

I took a slow, short walk around the neighbourhood, cutting across the quiet lanes, lifeless shops and stopped by the ceaseless petrol kiosk for some chocolate to perk my solo holiday eve.

***

I lost a bet.

I won a bet.

Then I lost a bet again.

Then I won a bet again.

Lost to Finicky Feline over SBB. We bet nothing will happen between SBB and I.

Won Sandra, after she insisted on a bet on SBB. She had wanted to ‘challenge’ to see who would get snogged by a guy first.

And freak.

I lost to SBB too.

That I would not succumbed to his teasings.

Blardy hell.

Still lose 2 bucks.

But, SBB chickened out from leaving a tag/comment on my blog as SBB, and that levels out my loss.

*Smirk*

That coward.

***

SBB once declared how he would never date a blogger.

He is afraid that his puny *cough* inability to last OMM-ism unflattering pictures kinky quirks weird habits clumsiness privacy would be invaded, and information of himself would leak out to the public.

Especially after reading how I had splashed my ex-boyfriend’s pictures all over the site.

Hence, he firmly sneered when we discussed about the Bloggers’ Convention, and which blogger he would shag date.

‘Date a blogger? Don’t want! Wait she blog everything about me on her blog, I jia lut.‘

Really huh? *Throws dagger stares at SBB*

Shoot yourself in the foot? Pain or not? Maybe you should stuff your foot into your mouth.

*Evil laughs*

Now, he says he should consider becoming a blogger, too. I will be his gossip fodders.

I doubt he could string together a proper sentence though.

Then again, whatever happen to my ‘I want to date a man, not a boy’ policy?

Oops.

***

SBB protested over the entry written on Sunday.

Which I wrote, ‘Now, how many of you genuinely do think that there are people, who are non-malesluts, wanting to shag me?’

He went, ‘*Cough* What are you trying to say here, HUH?‘

He asked if I meant he is a maleslut.

*Cough*

I asked if he meant he had wanted to shag me.

Cannot be.

He told a mutual friend he would not want to.

No bloggers policy too, remember?

***

Sunday was, nice.

Was going out of home when Dad dropped by for a visit.

Hence, I got a free lift to town.

Was supposed to meet Sandra for some production thingy.

Dad picked her up from a nearby bus stop and sent both of us down to Mohammed Sultan, where the production was taking place.

My past outings with Sandra had caused some to ask me why the sudden closeness between the 2 of us, especially when it is no open secret that I had reservations about her right from the beginning.

‘Wah. You guys become buddies already huh?’

Not without a hint of mocked sarcasm wrapped within.

Actually, in my honest opinion, we both are not close pals who would hang out often together.

Not in a group, definitely.

These encounters were solely for the purpose of the production, and yes, that includes the party we attended the other day.

Am I being hypocritical here? Or am I hanging out with one of the most talked-about blogger so I could earn some fame myself?

Think whatever you want.

Seriously, we do talk a little and I feel she has some serious issues to deal with, which of course, I would love to tell her if there is a chance to.

She is someone a lot of people would love to bitch about with her attention seeking ways constant exposure.

Observations that I made for the few encounters we met.

There wasn’t hostility when we met in person, probably because it was one-to-one and I respond better that way.

In fact, I still am very much myself when I am with her.

Should she trust me as a friend?

I don’t deny that sometimes, I am pretty intrigued with the way she reacts to people and stuffs, and her certain idiosyncrasies were sometimes bitching fodders between me and closer friends.

Things I would tell to her face, too.

Who is she, really?

I have no idea.

Not that I think that she is unreal, but I feel she has yet to come to terms with who she really is, and doesn’t know what role she wants to take on.

I think she is somehow lost? Confused?

I may be wrong, really.

Don’t take it the wrong way.

I don’t mean to say that she is not a nice person.

In fact, let me illustrate a few incidents.

As she hopped on the car, she very generously offered me chocolates.

You guys may argue it was her ploy to get me fat, fair enough.

But then again, for my case, I would rather offer oily fastfood and lardy fried food, and keep the chocolate to myself.

I was told to choose 2 bars out of the 4 bars of sweets.

I then absent-mindedly left my handphone in my dad’s car.

When dad was dropping my handphone off, I was occupied and couldn’t leave to get my phone from him.

She ventured out of the lounge and get it for me instead.

Over dinner, when I clumsily(what’s new?) splashed gravy onto my face(duh!), she stood up immediately and went to the coffee shop’s counter to buy me a pack of tissues.

Whilst sitting around waiting in the cold lounge, she had a message which came in with a beep on her phone.

In the heat of her excitement, she leaned her head on my shoulder, and suddenly gave me a peck on the cheek to express her elation.

Erm, cool.

Quite interesting for an impulsive action.

I am not a lesbian and not exactly close to her, but I thought it was innocently sweet, and a very direct expression which wasn’t used for any kind of publicity or dare.

So, yup. Whole point to this?

Nothing. Just some thoughts that came to my mind, that’s all.

I did say I will try to blog without a care, and whatever that comes to mind, didn’t I?

***

Speaking of chocolate, I have been indulging in too much of the sinful snack.

4 x 3 Rochers, 4 Kit Kat Chunky bars, 2 Kit Kat x 4 sticks, 2 Milo bars.

In 4 days.

And that’s chocolate alone.

Did I mention I never quite like Kit Kats? Until they came up with the Chunky bars which totally blew me away.

I feel like stripping the giant bar of Cadbury’s Fruits and Nuts.

I can’t imagine the next week when PMS will come knocking.

Somebody stop me, please.

***

The production went on pretty okay.

I had people addressing me as ‘nurse’ after gaining the nickname from the silly costume I donned for the party.

Made a new pal out of… er.. Mr Anonymous, whom we shall address as Blueman for his role in the production.

Gee, all these people are making my blog filled with silly codenames.

Well Blueman has his reasons.

He is a to-be-doctor, and would like to remain low profile for the embarrassing role in the production.

Janice(no, not my Sassyjan) brought along her dog which is such a majestic beauty.

Alas, one of the crew accidentally deleted the picture I took with Prince, a huge golden retriever.

I emailed her some of the pictures we took at the theme party, and she gave a very interesting reply.

She asked if any sparks flew between me and Dr Blueman.

I think my fetish for doctors is very much visible on my face, eh?

No, SBB is not a doctor.

I wonder if he would mind dressing up as one though. *cough*

Coincidentally, Marcus was working, and he was there too.

The whole thing ended around 11pm, before we finally could make a move.

***

Know what’s funny?

I had more make up on me than on Saturday, and I was wearing a black sheer top and a skirt as contrast to the jeans and tank top I had on Saturday when I turned up for the gathering.

I was talking to Janice when she asked what I do in my free time.

I mentioned something along the line that I seldom club these days, and it was more frequent in the past.

She looked at me and told me she’s surprised that I party cos I don’t look the sort to party, and look more like the homely sort.

What a surprise!

Dr Blueman then thought I look like those stern and ultra-fierce teacher when he knew I used to be a teacher.

The normal reaction from people is generally that they could not imagine me to be a fierce teacher.

Truth is, I was a blardy freaking fierce teacher, alright?

Don’t doubt me.

So, he was right.

I think I am having an identity crisis here.

So who am I?

***

It is storming.

Again.

I don’t like.

Feeling snappish over the incessantly flashing skies. Thunders unnerve me.

SBB is now in the shower(it’s 4am) and when I went to the loo, the sturdy winds hit against the panels, making awful, eerie noises.

The down side of living solo is that loneliness seems more apparent when it rains.

Now, he’s calling as he stepped out of the shower, staying on the phone, trying to divert my attention away from the howling winds, flickering lightnings, and husky growls.

Now, it sounds like live commentary, doesn’t it?

***

Time is 9.30am, and I just got off the phone with SBB.

8 hours of conversation. And the equal amount of time is taken off from my blogging.

Argh.

Interesting conversation as we dreamt up several hypothesis.

We even called a friend at 6.30am to join in for a 3-way chat.

The last few lines are pretty cringe-worthy.

‘What are you gonna do? Under your duvet? Sleeping soon? You should get some rest.’

‘Okay, will do. You sleep well, too. So, anything else you would want me to know?’

‘I wish I am right beside you now. Then I can cuddle you to sleep.’

*Grins* ‘Wah. That’s a surprise. So sweet? Er, I mean, so sweet.‘

I wonder when he is gonna get bored of me.

I give it another 2 weeks.

Hurhurhur.

***

After the production thingy on Sunday, I went for a slow walk and made my way to Orchard by bus.

Stopped by the cybercafe as I waited for SBB to meet up in town.

I am such an addict, I needed to check my blog and email.

As I sashayed down the pretty, glittery streets, a companion with a cute voice was on the other line, keeping me company.

Her baby voice is tremendously…. erm, babyish.

Imagine the insult when she said, ‘Wah! I finally found someone with a cute baby voice like mine.‘

HELLO DARLING?!

Which part of me, or my voice appears babyish to you? HUH! *Glares*

That little darling stayed on the phone with me for a little while before I finally reached Coffee Club where I was supposed to meet SBB.

It was a quaint coincidence that Shivonne was right there at Coffee Club that very Sunday night, with a cute friend in tow whom I didn’t get to see.

I heard he’s tall, cute and has a nice dimple to decorate the already charming face.

Shivonne had messaged me on MSN, I think with the intention of introducing him to me.

Muahahaha.

***
The above that I typed was about self-mutilation, not suicide. I don’t believe in suicide, but I used to succumb to self abuse to feel alive. Anyone who is going through it, please seek professional help, and take note that it is an irresponsible thing to do. We tend to magnify our problems infinitely till it clouds our judgment, blocks our senses. Live on, well. I am still trying.

– Friday, 11.07am Aug 12 2005

***

Continuing on..

PART II - Things you might, or might not want to know.

It was a pretty weird Sunday for me.

I have no idea why, but a message from a pal from the past came in.

Mr BR.

He asked if it was a surprise, and indeed it was.

He just wished me well and everything would be okay for me.

As long as I am surviving, it would be okay, right?

Passably okay.

Still, something from the past, stirred me.

***

And, another rare message came in on the phone.

Let’s codename(aw, not again) him, AD.

AD is a nice, down-to-earth pal whom I forged some form of friendship with due to his amicable, soft nature.

His messages are rare.

Very rare.

And his quiet ways meant that he is someone who doesn’t quite write his emotions blatantly on his outer self.

AD asked how have I been doing, and it was a tirade of messages that came in swift.

Until the last message that came in, which is along the line of, ‘Long time never see you already. What are you busy with? Kinda miss you.‘

Erm. Hmm.

And I had a private message in my friendster, with those forwarded post from him that goes something along the line of ‘Missing you…’

From someone who is of such quiet nature, it’s odd.

And, his ‘In a Relationship‘ status, had became ‘Single‘.

Ah, I see.

It’s odd receiving from 2 unexpected people in a single night.

Oh, did I mention how I like their new option of ‘It’s complicated‘?

***

Sunday night.

I ended the call with April with a click of my thumb, as I heard the roars from a familiar bike model.

The street next to the pavement was blurred by a flash.

The rider’s threw me a glance, and I recognised it immediately. He swerved into the carpark, and indeed, it was him.

Yet, I almost didn’t recognise the figure who dismounted his machine.

Crisp long-sleeved, buttoned shirt clothed his lean body, his feet clad in sleek work-shoes, cropped hair neatly gelled, and, and, and… oh my freaking gosh, the metallic frame that boxed up his mesmerising eyes sat comfortably on his perky nose bridge.

*Slurp* *Bites lower lip* *Wipes sweat* *Fans myself furiously* *ROAR!*

Oooo, I like.

I giggled at the amusing sight, glued my gaze to the fresh image, as his arm wrung round my midriff, pulling me close to him.

‘Hello.‘ He grinned impishly, as he greeted me with that uplifting drawl.

‘Hello, there.‘ I gave a cryptic, sheepish smile in respond, locking his gaze, as my arms circled his waist.

The slight whiff of perfume tingled my senses. I lowered my focus for a quick browse.

‘Interesting, you’re in shirt. Look, glasses, too.‘

‘Interesting, you’re in skirt.‘

A different side of each other, we never quite seen. It was a pretty lustful endearing sight of the man right before me.

I had a silly grin of satisfaction as I inspected his sharp dress sense.

I had briefly mentioned about shirts and glasses, and certainly didn’t expect the *cough* fantasy to become a reality.

All these for just, erm, an hour of brief meet up.

It seemed only natural for us to indulge in a snug embrace.

Basking in the orangey street lights, he gave a light peck on my cheeks, then.. the lips.

The sweet, roasted taste of tobacco lingered.

I didn’t think I would like it, but strangely, I did.

It’s pretty addiction, actually.

Awww…

Sandra lost a bet to me, there and then.

SBB had to spoil the moment at the end of it with, ‘Darn, now I have red lips!‘ before rubbing the gloss off his lips.

*Roll eyes*

***

His hand made a grab, and enveloped mine.

I froze for a moment.

The centre of my palm felt his warm touch as we strolled pompously down the quiet streets, heading for Coffee Club.

We decided it was a tad too warm, and set our sights on Swensen’s which is further down the streets.

Or else we could have bumped into Shivonne and her cute friend instead.

Good, I still stand a chance. Phew.

His fingers intertwined with mine as we crossed 2 traffic lights to the street diagonally opposite us.

For a slight while, I was reluctant, or rather embarrassed to look up. A little flustered, I was.

Did I ever mention how knitted palms is much more pressurising to me than anything else?

Once, there was this guy who held my hand without permission and I never did dare to meet him again. *shudders*

It was a pretty awkward, but sweet and tender moment, though.

The broad street leading down to Swensen’s was soul-less as we sliced through it on a Sunday night, and it was the usual bickers, jibes and giggles that littered the conversation.

Nothing seemed to have changed, except that we are more intimate than before.

And that er, he is more *ahem* babyish and surprisingly, sweeter than before.

It was quite hilarious that 2 of us were meticulously dressed for.. supper.

I have an excuse. I was out prior to that.

What’s his?

As usual, he sat there quietly as he watched me down the waffle.

I feel like a glutton around him.

I stole a peek of his studious look once in a while, breaking into girlish giggles whenever I set my sight on him.

However finely dressed I was, my clumsy self still took over when food was falling out of my mouth, and all over the place.

Chocolate fudge on my chin? Erm, not very slick, I know.

We chit-chatted for a bit before leaving, taking a quiet path back to where we first came from.

As we halted right before the junction by the red lights again, it was green lights for a smooch, and a cuddle.

He took my hand, crossed it before me, and twirled me around.

Once, and twice. Like how you would, to a dance partner.

Passing traffic must have thought that was mad.

***

I am not sure if clumsiness is contagious.

SBB is becoming a doofus these days too.

I can’t remember the number of silly stuffs he did on Sunday.

He forgot to bring this, he forgot to bring that.

But I remember that he gave me…. one painful chipped toenail when he stomped on my left big toe.

I shall not mention how romantic it was when we were trying to smooch and we hit our heads against each other.

Oooooooops.

But, you know what is the definition of instant karma when you were laughing at someone over his clumsiness when you were opening the door, and the moment was continued by a loud ‘thud’.

I walked into something and kicked a bottle down.

What’s the story between the pot and kettle again?

I am glad I am not a man, cos I mock at OMM jokes ever so often.

I think SBB did laugh at OMM jokes before…. so does that mean something?

Hmmm..

*Raise brows*

***

Pillion riding on a bike in skirt is a bitch.

At least I have my jacket over me.

Pillion riding with the rider playing with your fingers is not.

Pillion riding with the rider patting your knee and thigh at the traffic light is not, either.

Quite sweet actually.

I realised how tempting it was to be pillioned by someone wearing shirt.

To resist the temptation to unbuttoning the shirt is a challenge.

What’s with shirt and skirt, really?

Buttons-playing seem pretty fun.

Must try next time.

Muahahaha.

***

There was a parked car in the basement carpark, with 2 girls sitting within, chatting.

We got off from the bike, and he pulled me closer by the waist, and we snogged.

Very affectionate, I thought.

Until he stepped me on my toes, that is.

So, it was cuddle, smooch, cuddle, smooch.

Then again, he twirled me around as if we were dancing.

He pinned me to the pillar, out of sight of the ladies, and we snogged.

Passionately, emotions raging.

His ran his hand over my ears, neck and down my back, embraced me close.

Darn. That felt blardy good.

***

I frowned slightly when the skies cracked up when I was showering.

It sounded distant, but near enough.

I could hear the sudden heavy downpour out there.

Heartbeat accelerated, discomfort grew, and I wore a constant sulk as I blew dry my shampoo-scented hair.

I grew snappish.

I realised how much I missed having someone close by my side when the skies tease me the way it did.

Thankfully, SBB was by my side that very morning, and the fear seemed easier to deal with.

A hug can do so much.

I ruffled his damp hair as I shared the heat from the hair-dryer.

***

How comfortable can you grow with a person?

I shed that self-consciousness and giggled nervously when I donned the nerdy pair of frames, freshed-face and slipped on my retainers(*gasp in horror*).

Did I mention the darn zit on my face?

Now that he had seen my worst, I must silence him and eliminate him from the surface of earth.

Wait a minute, I don’t have to.

He has more reasons to butcher me after seeing him equally dowdy and casual.

Dishevelled hair and glasses. No longer the sleek, polished him I met earlier.

Different ends of the spectrum in one single night.

Nice.

Both are equally sexy somehow.

To me, that is.

To 2 self-conscious individuals, to break out of the comfort zone, may not be a bad thing after all.

Letting our guards down.

I like it.

What I didn’t like is, how the glasses would engage in a war, before our tongues did.

***

I dwelled in the cosiness of his sweet embrace when I snuggled up close to him, burrowing my head into his neck.

I nestled snugly right between his shoulders and chin, basking in the traces of security within.

The arms around me tightened.

The soft touch of his bare skin next to mine was warm, creating a fuzzy feeling within.

I distant my face from him, enough for me to have a good focus on his smiling eyes.

We already spent a great deal of the night staring into each other’s eyes.

Animated bickerings, babyish banters, and witty jibes gave way to soft, gentle whispers of good night.

Pecks were planted on my forehead, nose and lips, before they were returned.

It is a bliss, to be cuddled to sleep.

Something I have been greatly deprived of, for a long, long while.

Such bliss that had absent from my life for a great deal of time.

Sheer indulgence.

***

He’s nice to hug.

And it’s nice to be hug by him.

Top 4 sentences he repeated that evening:

‘I like your skirt.‘

I am suspicious of what he was thinking.

‘I like your lips.‘

I really am suspicious of what he was thinking.

‘I like your eyes.‘

No, they are not to fuel the innocent doe-eyed look fetish.

‘You know, you’re really nice to hug.‘
Yes, I know. I am just fat. Top 4 sentences I repeated that evening:

‘I really like you in your glasses.’ ‘I really like you in shirt.’ ‘I really like you in your glasses.’ ‘I really like you in shirt.’

Darn kinky, I know.

I did not think of unbuttoning the shirt and pull him close to me by the shirt with brute force, really.

Really.

*cough*
Really.

I won’t swear on it though.

I did manage to get a couple of shots of him in glasses and shirt.

Yummy.

***

Waking up with bad breath, and seeing the one next to me deep in his sleep with his mouth gaping is a sweet thing.

I did forewarn him that I do snore, but I doubt that did much to disturb his seemingly deep slumber.

I did not stir enough to wake him completely, but the movements prompted him to slit open his eyes slightly, and he leaned in closer to peck me the lips.

I irritated the hell outta him by pecking him on the lips, and for every peck, I would attach ‘wake up’, and it became a tedious peck-wakeup-peck-wake up-peck-wake up morning call.

I wonder how he managed, but he cuddled the hyperactive mass and slept on in peace.

I spent an hour, before I finally managed to drag him out of bed.

***

He left in the noon, and it was a great deal of affectionate kisses and hugs before we finally bade goodbye.

We spent another couple of hours on the phone when he got home, and called.

Perhaps, that’s my Piscean trait acting up.

I am pretty much an affectionate person, as much as I am a stone-cold person to some.

I bet some of my closer girl pals would know how affectionate I could get… with girls.

Ooo.. closeted lesbian?

Having said that, who knows, SBB might be a girl and not a guy.

Er, he would murder me for that.

So, SBB is a 100% hot-blooded male.

***

FF is curious how ‘teyh‘ nad purr-ish I could get when SBB is around.

I have to rebutt that.

He is equally teyh and babyish, alright?

I never thought of him this way, and it is pretty odd to be saying this, but, he is blardy. freaking sweet.

How so?

I don’t know.

But it certainly is strange to think so, of someone who is a platonic good friend to start with.

***

Wednesday(10th) was pretty mundane, and we took a long rest after the intensive 5-hour phone conversation that very afternoon that disrupted my blogging plans.

Was feeling pretty hungry that night, and he fetched me down to Fong Seng for Nasi Lemak dinner.

It perked me up when I saw him at the lobby carpark, when he greeted me with a kiss and a firm cuddle.

Wheeeeeee. Nice.

Fong Seng. Once again, I was the glutton, whilst he watched.

Whilst we were chatting, he pulled my chair closer to his, and we spoke of tales of our own.

Our fingers twirled and swirled round each other’s.

I bumped into 2 familiar faces.

Those of Hwachong 99s22 guys. Xianhong and.. er… pal.

Surprisingly, they managed to recognise me, unlike Alex, who failed to when we were at Wenmei’s birthday chalet.

Okay, it took them a while to figure out who I really am, though.

It was a brief chat, and isn’t it swift?

They are all out of NS, back to hit the books and mug for a degree.

We headed back to Jurong, to Jurong Point where we met up with a friend of his who lives nearby.

It was what bikers always do, to hang out at coffeeshops, and we rode down to the coffee shop near my place.

When I realised my visor from the AGV helmet had came loose, I made the wrong decision of bearing with it for the rest of the journey since it wasn’t too much of a distance.

Wrong, wrong move!

SBB cheekily played pick-up with his friend on the straight stretches, and I was left one handed on the tank, while fixing my left hand on the visor that came loose.

The inertia from the accelerating bike was great and I clung on to my visor as I grabbed his midriff.

*Curse curse swear swear*

His friend is an interesting character.

Easy going, and seems like a really nice person.

It was the usual bike talks, while I watched on.

Finger-playing once in a while, or when SBB displayed splurts of affection here and there, right before his pal.

Like the time he decided to dip me into his bosom, cuddling me, planting a peck on the forehead or the lips occasionally.

Or the time he raised my hand to his lips, to plant smacker on it.

Or placing my head on his shoulders, with arms round my waist.

Or the occasional longing gazes and winks he threw my way.

Hmmm. Nice.

Got home pretty late after taking some pictures for his friend, and came back to load them the minute we reached back.

***

Was feeling slightly hungry.

We ventured out of the house for some breakfast at the nearby hawker centre.

The air was particularly fresh, and it was interesting to see how the day is picking up with people leaving for work, walking to school.

Wrong move.

It was the worst carrot cake either of us ever tried.

Still, I enjoyed the early morning stroll, with his hand holding on to mine.

***

We finally fell asleep together at 7, in the luxury of his cuddle, once again.

Woke up late in the afternoon, and despite waking earlier than he did, he would sit up groggily to drag me back in bed, and pin me in his arms for a cuddle once I sat up to use the computer.

It seemed easier to wake him up this time round.

Well, it could be pretty easy, once you know each other better, and know exactly what irritates him enough to get him out of bed.

*Evil laughs*

***

So that pretty much sums up what I had wanted to say.

Now, wait a minute.

Do you guys think I am attached or some sort?

Some said I sounded smitten, or rather, in love.

Pisceans are romantic creatures by nature, and they romanticise everything.

And I might be blogging it in a way that you might, or might not know what is real.

I may sound in love, but I might be basking in that identical feeling, without necessarily immerse in it.

I don’t know how many people are gonna arch your brows upon reading this, but no, SBB and I are not exactly together.

Dating, yes. And I mean, yeah, we are seeing a bit of each other.

Er, in a commited relationship, not really.

I know it sounds like a pretty warped friendship there, isn’t it?

Actually, I don’t know what’s my take on this entire episode either.

Hmm… I guess we are both pretty much commitment-phobes, and are pretty comfortable of having no expectations or whatsoever to each other.

I still can meet other people in my life, whom I can share very openly with him, and things we could be very honest with each other.

After the breakup, I spent many solitude days, and I clammed up to a lot of emotions.

Was wary of people, generally.

It was pretty nice to meet someone whom I can talk openly to.

He reminded me of a close friend, I lost last year.

Someone whom I can feel comfortable with, and let my guard down.

I am not sure if it’s a good thing that I could share my darkest secrets, without feeling too exposed, too naked.

Someone, who is tuned to the same frequency, same lame sense of humour, and dealing issues which I can empathise with.

It quaint, but sometimes he could complete my sentences.

Yet, we are very different people, too.

I see part of myself in him, and learn things absent from myself, from him.

Apparently, part of me which intrigues him, is the fact that he finds me similar to him.

‘So, why? Is it the fact that you lust for me?‘ I joked.

In all seriously, he frankly replied, ‘Partly yes, but it’s more of I like you as a person.‘

Or that I reminded him of someone from his past, like how he reminded me people(yes, even the very first puppy love in my late teens) from my past.

‘Actually come to think of it, seriously, I think the reason is….‘

Before he could complete, I retorted, ‘Wait. That’s an absolutely narcissistic reason. Oops. Sorry for interrupting. Was it something else?‘

‘Nope, yah, that was what I was going to say.‘

‘I can’t believe that. You must be gay.‘

So yup, he thought I was like him, and thus, so.

Which part, I wonder? Insecurity? Muahahahaha. Must be the intelligence. *Cough*

But no, I am not as narcissistic as he is.

‘I don’t know why, but I realise one thing. I feel very comfortable around you. It’s weird cos I don’t usually open up to people. Not someone I know so briefly.‘

‘Uh-huh. I don’t either. I can be very open with who I am, but people can never seem to grasp who I really am, cos I would appear to be very honest with them, yet there is a barrier they can’t cross.‘

It’s true that I barricade myself. It seems like a lot of people can know a lot of things about me, but yet they could feel as if they know me, yet at the same time, still very distant from me.

Some kind of connection is lacking.

‘I let down my guard when I am with you.‘

Does it really matter that a relationship is that I need to feel belong to, and having a person to claim territorial over?

I used to think so.

I would think so, too.

I had many MSN messages asking me ‘So how? Are you attached now?’ which tickled me, and yet unable to give a definite answer.

No, actually.

And not necessarily looking.

Oh talking about MSN, my list is approaching 250.

And some of which, I am not even sure who. Woops.

Ivan was trying to snoop for SBB’s identity when he asked, ‘But doesn’t exclusiveness give you security?‘

To which I reply, ‘But doesn’t exclusiveness build more insecurity?’

Seriously, I had never thought of taking a take on relationships the way I do right now.

It is not my intention to blur a friendship with the intimacy, but things just seem comfortable enough for us to head this way.

SBB asked if I felt any difference or difficulty after taking the leap, and I could honestly say that yeah, indeed, there was a difference.

A slight difficulty, even.

That words might be taken the wrong way, and become a liability.

He admitted there’s a difference on his part, too.

He said he talks like a babychild now.

*Chokes*

Muahahahaha.

Apparently, Finicky Feline complained that she faces the same problem when talking to me.

She had inevitably picked up my ‘baby voice’ whenever I am around.

I do enjoy his company and conversation. Very much, I might add.

The way he makes me laugh with his goofiness and the tinge of depth.

Can I honestly say that I don’t feel anything for him?

No, I can’t.

Truth is(yes you SBB, don’t take it wrong way), I do fancy him, and I do like him.

Or that I yearn to see him when he is not around. Or in a politically correct way, I do miss him…

(Nahbeh, I am compromising my dignity here)

But at the same time, I can cope when he is not around.

That is after seeing another side of him that’s hard to penetrate(no sleazy thoughts, please).

Look at us individually, it doesn’t seem like he is the sort I would go for, and neither do I seem to fit into his harsh requirements of a partner.

Sheesh, and such things said here, are often left unspoken, so if he does read it, somehow, it would be the first time he will be reading it.

Thats why I said, it’s quaint.

And not many might take it well, cos they might think this is not right.

But all I can say, I am enjoying my moments with him, and I am happy.

Urm, yeah.

I am.

Since a long while.

I can be who I am.

Well, I mean I am still self-conscious with him around, and that I still have yet to fart right before him, but still…

You know what I mean right?

So that’s all that matters, for now.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I know no matter what, I will still be keen to keep him as a friend.

*Beams*

So what? Those who silently detest me, are you gonna call me a slut now?

Or are you shaking your head in disapproval?

Don’t stop recommending cute guys to me, alright?

Whee. What a dose of SBBism.

Almost 9, 500 words, ya know?