Tell me the truth boy am I losing you for good…

Freaking cool Graffiti in Poho

Well, after my epic moan nearly 5 weeks ago, I had very little to write about and very little time to write. My little brother came to visit me for a week, upon my own insistence. He’s off to do his MBA and settling in well in a European city as we speak. I am proud of him in a sense and while I am a little bit worried that this is his first real foray into the big bad world out there (he’s lived at home till now), I think he will be okay. I asked him to stay with me a week so we could talk about things, MBA-things, living alone things, long-distance relationship things. I taught him how to poach eggs (he loves them as much as I) and how to do dishes. I ordered him to do our laundry and make the bed. Important things as I don’t want him to live in squalor and disarray.

My one-third life crisis

Warning: This is one hell of a white whine. I know I have a lot to be grateful for and my life is far from miserable. Sorry if this made you tweak your nose in disgust. Leo, sorry, this is a repeat-rant of our phone conversation minus the white noise.

It has been a tough couple of weeks, or even month if you’re really keeping track. There was the excruciating bout of tonsilitis and then Sam dropped off the face of the earth. The trip to beautiful Myanmar gave me some respite but right after I came home to a shit-ton of work during what is doubtless one of the most stressful periods in the year (budget season) which in turn has been exacerbated by the fact that I sit ten feet away from the douchebag who dumped me using the “it’s not you, it’s me” excuse. I work till midnight and am convinced I look like shit so I try to dress better to make up for it. He seems to look better, more muscular with each passing day. Why is he at the gym when he should be bench-pressing me? And here’s the kicker – I have dated other bald guys in the past but I might officially like bald guys from this guy on. Barftastic.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.*

Dear Sam,

You wanted me since the day you set your eyes on me.  I could see it in them. You chased me with kisses and invitations to dates. You pursued as much as you had to, only just as much as you had to and when you had me, you stopped. Much to my disappointment. The last couple of weeks, while I missed you, I wondered if you missed me, sometimes I was sure you did but you didn’t show it. I wish you had because the only thing I filled with that void was doubt. I was out having a blast in Spain with friends I have loved for decades and yet I made time and space in my heart for you. But you couldn’t even peel yourself away from a football game long enough to call me and say hello. That hurt but I tried not to make much of it.

don’t rain on my parade

What should have been pure giddy joy and exhilaration at clearing all three CFA exams in the minimum possible time soon turned into a crying/shouting match with my parents because somehow they thought it was okay to bring up marriage and matches in the very same breath, in the very same sentence as the one congratulating me for my success. My father was telling me about some guy they had found who had also just taken his level 3 exam. He said I should “consider”. That I should think about marriage now and that I may not get someone with everything – looks, brains, jobs.

to those who wait…

I spend a lot of time obsessing over what I want to make sure I really want it. For me, I find that nothing ever comes easy. For anything and everything I’ve achieved, I have had to give my blood, sweat and tears. And sleep. So much sleep – either through insomnia in the case of bad relationships and bad jobs or through actual toil when it comes to exams and projects.

something’s missing

Yesterday was an odd day and didn’t end on a happy note; in fact it ended in tears. At least for me it did. I am not sure if Leonard cried, he seems like the type that would but aren’t the people that seem weak the strongest?

I broke up with Leonard yesterday and it was one of the hardest things I have done in a long while at least in an emotional sense. I was deeply sorry for having to do it, I lost count of how many times I apologised to him. But I did it and I did it on decent terms. He was a decent guy. With anyone else, I may taken an easier route like ignoring future correspondence, pretending to be busy or send an email or text even, like my own indecent ex did. But I don’t want to be that gutless even in my worst hour.

You will meet a tall, dark stranger…(a very short love story)

Friday, November 9

Boy meets girl. Boy charms the pants off her. Then he asks her out to lunch.

Monday, November 12

“Now I’m worried”
“Why”
“because he’s in another continent”
“Don’t worry. I think some experiences are meant to be short and sweet and perfect. One must not ask for more”
I say sagely. Meanwhile my heart is beating like those big round things at the Beijing drum tower. Deja vu? Of course, and yet it always feels new, brand new, like my love life is permanent new-car-smell. I long for more, of course I do, but for now, I sincerely appreciate the butterflies. They make me feel alive. Especially today, after an absolutely perfect lunch date with an absolutely perfect man. I know I know, how predictable, I say that every week. Well bite me. I daresay he was different, very very different, not just from me, but from every Tom, Dick and Harry I have had the pleasure or displeasure of dating.

I know what I felt was different because somewhere between the salad and the main course, it hit me. I felt a world of respect for this lovely man. That has not happened in a while. At least once during every date, I think to myself that the guy is spoilt, or arrogant, or even damaged, but on this date, not with this man. He had lofty goals and plenty of ambition, he had worked so very hard to get to where he was and he knew there was a long road ahead. And he was so modest. Most of what I knew of him, I knew through Shimpy – he didn’t tell me much about how awesome he was! (Plus he wasn’t dim, he got my jokes).

And yet he couldn’t be further from my ideal guy. A soft-spoken well-tattooed professional sportsman years younger than me? Talk about Stella getting her groove back. Even I can’t help but raise my eyebrow at how preposterous this is. We met at Shimpy’s party on Friday and he had zeroed in on me the second I walked in. Kept flirting, right in front of his own dad, who was at the party too, didn’t let me leave to meet my friends, “No, stay, come with me”. Who could refuse?

We have pretty much nothing in common except a positive demeanour, a mad passion (albeit for totally different things) and I’m going out on a limb here, an inability to play mind games (judging by the several text messages he sent replete with x’s and other sweetness-es and the promptness of replies to mine).

So is it any wonder that my heart skipped a beat, or ten, when he sent me this text on Monday night “I am at the airport now…why am I missing you so much?…” Was this unexpected? Yes. A bit forward? Definitely. Was it refreshing like a popsicle on a sultry afternoon? Undoubtedly.

Tuesday, November 13

I spend pretty much the whole morning and afternoon daydreaming and hoping to hear from the Mr.Right-kind-of-wrong but predictably, I don’t. I figure the long flight to London landing in the wee hours of the morning must have done him in.

But reality is a little bit different because Shimpy informs me (and bless her for it) that he never left Hong Kong. Yes, you heard that right. He never left. Airport my ass.

The thing that bothers me isn’t that he didn’t want to see me again because I’m thick-skinned enough to know that one date does not equal ten future dates, especially not with someone passing through the city. What bothers me is that fucking message – it is not one but two bold, unnecessary lies. This guy must be a Proust scholar in the field of douchebaggery because he had me hook, line and sinker with his charming lines so kudoes to him for that. And maybe I should have expected that from a guy that plays league rugby in the UK. Player, in every sense of the word.

And I don’t even have that much against players. I am not bitter, I play guys sometimes, sometimes I get played – I think it’s the inevitable outcome of the endless dating game that we play in supercities. But I definitely have something against this sort of mindless dishonesty. Well, I don’t know if it’s mindless or malicious, it feels like the latter. Did I expect him to miss a random girl he met at a party? No, but I believed him and for that, I feel like a prize idiot.

I don’t expect to hold on this incident for too long nor do I have an ounce of regret. I know that if he’d left HK and I had never seen him again (I know now that I won’t), I would still hold on to that moment of tremulous thrill I experienced on Shimpy’s rooftop when I read that unexpected message while love songs played in the background. As I keep telling you, that moment made me feel alive.

I really wish he had not taken that away from me. Or maybe he hasn’t. I still don’t know because the anger is too raw at the moment.

Diwali night was already unpleasant thanks to this news and the fact that I had to be home alone waiting for someone to fix my internet. Then somehow it felt like the whole place was falling apart – the machine machine wouldn’t wash, the fridge leaked, the bathroom shelf came unhinged, the shower leaked. So I quit. I ran out to the Sun Yat Sen promenade right outside my place and ran with the sea by my side. I did some 30/40 crunches (shocking!). It didn’t help but somehow it did. And when I finished, I took out my phone and deleted most of the numbers of most of the boys I had had the displeasure of dating recently. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was cathartic but it was a first step towards self-preservation.

And the second step is my upcoming trip to India and Sri Lanka where I hope to sleep a little easier and longer (because insomnia has resurfaced of late) and cure myself of stress and sore limbs and sunken eyes and even my relentless naivety. Maybe that last one’s a stretch.

never say never

Some things we don’t talk about
Rather do without
And just hold the smile
Falling in and out of love
Ashamed and proud of
Together all the while

I owe you an update on the perfect guy situation given you all pitched in so sweetly and entertained by giddy notions. Not so perfect as it turns out.

He booty-texted me on Friday night and luckily I didn’t see the text until 2.45 am because I was out with friends and entertaining Leo and his wife who were visiting (more later). So no, I did not play into that but we exchanged a few texts and then I went to bed.

The next day I texted him and we chatted a bit on whatsapp. We were both at beaches and he even asked me to send him a picture of my beach. I did. Encouraged by the pleasantries, I told him wakeboarding was cancelled and asked if he wanted to meet up on Sunday evening.

And he disappeared. He simply stopped replying. End of chat. Here are some possible explanations.

1. His iphone fell in the sea.
2. He fell in the sea.
3. He was engrossed in typing me an elaborate and enthusiastic response and was hit by a bus just as he was hitting Send.
4. He tried to upgrade his whatsapp (like I did yesterday) and it cocked up (like mine did yesterday)
5. He’s a self-indulgent A-grade douche who thinks the world of himself and is therefore beyond common courtesies such as replying (even if it were in the negative) to a nice message in a nice manner.

Well done me on building this up in my head the way I did. I deleted his number that very evening. In my measly defence, they did say the Titanic was unsinkable.

On the brighter side of things, the weekend past was absolutely wonderful and there was great food and heaps of alcohol and uber pleasant company and gorgeous beaches and hiking and swim lessons and loads of boy action including an unexpected Sunday night date with a charming, cheerful boy that treated me really really well and showered me with compliments. So really, I didn’t have half a minute to dwell on the poor loser who lost out on the very awesome position of being my boyfriend.

Scream

Job Hunting.

It is so hard. It is the hardest thing I have ever done and will ever do. It is the third time I’ve done it since 2008. Twice with geographical restrictions, Thrice within the same industry, an industry plagued with problems. Once for a man who turned out to not give a damn, once that ended badly. At least this time, I feel like I am free to apply to any job anywhere but it doesn’t seem to have opened too many avenues. It is your self-esteem getting raped by inferior individuals.
It hurts a little to know that he who shall not be named has not only changed jobs from awesome company to even more awesome company (in my fucking industry no less) but he also continues to stay in Singapore when he should have already moved to India with his equally abhorrent family like he claimed to want to before. I should feel bitter, I think I do, just a wee bit.

Sidebar: Last week, another friend called me up and deliberately went into great detail about how he had found out where that human compost pile worked and what he did. I tiredly said “I know, I know” till he got the message. This is despite my having told him repeatedly that I really really did not want to know anything about he who shall not be named not even if he is dead or alive.

Comparisons are odious. This is about me.

2012 is going to be fucking hard. Nobody is here for me to talk to. Nobody seems to relate. Nobody says it’s going to be okay. Why, it’s worse than being single because as misguided as the sentiment is, someone always seems to “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone great because you deserve nothing less”. Why can’t someone just swap out one word in that sentence? Yesterday someone emailed me “Jupiter, I hope you find a handsome and caring man in 2012”. Sweet, I thought. Unlikely, but sweet.

Everyone just reaffirms your worst fears. The market is always bad and noone is ever hiring. The notion that you could soon be unemployed seems to bring out the worst in everyone you know – enemies, friends and worst of all, family. From being wished ill “you will never get a visa” to being outright cursed out, I have seen and heard it all. And my dears, it is hard to forgive, to not hold a grudge.

I would like to think that it does not break me. But maybe it does, little by little, maybe for a minute, a day, a week? Don’t get me wrong. I am so grateful for everything I have and I do have an overall happy life.

But I am long overdue for a happy dance. I need some fucking tubthumping here.

house of cards

Technically it’s autumn and October in Hong Kong… there are no leaves falling or turning red in this concrete jungle that I’ve called home for over a year now and it’s certainly not cool enough to break out the trenches.

I am so afraid. I can’t escape it anymore. Maybe afraid isn’t the right word because whatever is causing all these upheavals and downheavals (new word # 345) is not related to death and disease or frogs or lizards. No, it’s this overwhelming sense of uncertainty that never seems to go away.

They always say you should be careful what you wish for. They couldn’t be more right. A long long time ago, I was stuck in boring Singapore in a dead end job that bored me to tears. I then wished for a job that would take me around the world, make me change locations, let me live in supercities like Sydney or London (yes in those days, I didn’t care for the US). I didn’t get that job then. But I did get into business school. And some three years later I got that job. It didn’t pay very much. But I also got a boyfriend, nay, fiancé and I didn’t want that job anymore. It was a veritable crossroads, a catch-22 if you will and contrary to what people say about it always working out in the end, it did not.

So here I am in one heck of a supercity, living life on steroids. It has been utterly amazing so far despite again, ending up in a dead end job. I don’t think I want to leave. Unless leaving and moving to New York are in the same sentence. And even then, I am not entirely convinced because my closest friends have either moved or gotten married or some such.

In a few hours, I have an important meeting that might change the course of my life. Again. But it doesn’t seem like it will change for the better. No, in fact I am expecting one of two pretty rotten choices – unemployment or a rotten job in some rotten city like Madrid that pays literally half of what I make right now.

To be perfectly honest, I really don’t know what I prefer. On the one hand, I owe it to myself and my broken ego to take a fantastic risk, go for broke (no fucking pun intended there) and stay in Hong Kong with the soaring hope that come 1Q12, something wonderful will happen. And I’ll still get to keep all my lovely friends here. On the other, money is better than no money and job is better than no job. Then again, if the meeting goes pear-shaped, I am end up jobless anyway and my ego has all the time in the world to pick itself up from the gutter and reinvent itself.

My attempts at finding a job in New York have been in vain, as have been my attempts at contacting headhunters who are only keen on placing D and MD level people. Life, my dears, is tough. The credit card bill this month is astronomical thanks to all the drinking and eating out. Maybe it’s time to cut back big time. I went to a warehouse sale yesterday that was choc full of gorgeous Alexander McQueen shoes that called to me and I didn’t answer back. Over 250$ even after discount – that might pay a month’s worth of groceries for an unemployed girl, nay?

I keep telling myself that I’ve been through much worse with fewer resources, the only difference being that before I had the support of a then-loving boyfriend and somehow it seemed to make everything better. But that is not to say that mountains cannot be moved by almost-30 single girls. I could easily move all my stuff into storage, move to a pint-sized apartment in the new territories for a mere fraction of my current rent. I reckon my savings could sustain me for 3-6 months. Maybe I could do some odd jobs as well. You know I almost gave English tuitions to Japanese housewives when I lived in Singapore? Who is to say that I can’t find vocations like that here in Honkers?

I guess my point is that when the going gets tough…. The tough write lofty blog posts to psyche themselves into believing that nothing is impossible.