Drugged

Your love, my Dear is like a drug.
Sweet, syrupy, sometimes abrupt.
Dark with meaning, Light with candour.

The companionable silences,
comfortable counterparts to the exuberant exchanges that follow.

Like butter on toast, a rose to my nose.
Tell me darling whenceforth I should go.
For your arms my love, are inviting me so.

It Must have been Love.

How does one dismiss six years of relationship? With a wave of the hand? Writing down those years and memories to just a passing whim? You don't. You can't. Not if there's a shred of humanity left in you. For convenient as it may sound, turning your feelings and emotions on and off like a switch is impossible. So you remember and accept that those memories, those emotions, those experiences, will always be a part of your life, bittersweet though they may be.

6 Years 1 Month 14 Days ago, the first time I met Sean, after a month of conversing on the phone, I always knew I wanted him. As a 'BF' preferably (because at that stage, getting attached, to me at least, wasn't something that I agonised over), failing which, 'a friend' with an option for more. Having just broken up recently, he was understandably reluctant. However, neither that nor the daunting task of convincing him to be able to trust and take that leap of faith again were sufficient to deter me. There certainly was a healthy dose of lust but lust was a cruel master I was familiar with; one that promises much but delivers little and this was different. The feelings and attraction were mutual and with gusto and great determination I pursued, that one goal in mind.

What happened next as they say is history. The first six months were blissful. I was happy and truly truly in love. In fact as I told Sean, if during those first six months I had to die for him, I would have had done so willingly without a moment's hesitation. Cheesy or corny as it may sound now, the intentions and feelings were genuine, that was how unshakeable and concrete my love for him was.

Then somewhere, somehow along the way, the love that I'd once so unflinchingly stood by petered out. It's always sad when love dies, doubly so when it occurs inspite of the lack of any extraneous factors or fault of either party. And much as I tried, my subsequent efforts to resurrect it in its original form never really succeeded. I don't know, I'm so drained. Even typing this entry took a little over 6 hours after incorporating work.

It must have been love. But it's over now..

It must have been Love - Roxette.

Lay a whisper on my pillow
Leave the winter on the ground
I wake up lonely, is there a silence
In the bedroom and all around

Touch me now, I close my eyes
And dream away...

It must have been love, but it's over now
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow
It must have been love, but it's over now
From the moment we touched till the time had run out

Make believing we're together
That I'm sheltered by your heart
But in and outside I turn to water
Like a teardrop in your palm

And it's a hard winter's day
I dream away...

It must have been love, but it's over now
It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without
It must have been love, but it's over now
It's where the water flows, it's where the wind blows

It must have been love, but it's over now
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow
It must have been love, but it's over now
From the moment we touched till the time had run out.

Melange.

Everyone knows that the best way of dealing with a mish mash of relatively unrelated issues is to checklist them and address it in point form. If you didn't, shame on you. It's certainly the best way if one is feeling/is lazy and not in the mood to write in coherent prose. As yours truly currently is.

Happy 6th Anniversary.

1. Even though, it's three days past now, the actual day went by with nary a whimper due to the fact we both had work and I failed to call him before midnight on the actual day.
   
2. Sean's still a real chum, thanks for having endured (and still enduring) my shit these past six years. I honestly doubt if it were anyone else, I'd still be attached. Play hard, work hard, love hard.
   
3. In my defense to the seemingly callous behaviour in point 1, I did sms him in the morning on the way to work, though I realise it does not detract from the fact that I didn't call. Yes yes, I suck.

Saturdays

1. Are bloody precious now.

2. Ironically, we seem to spend the major part of it engaging in our favourite S activities: sex and sleep. But I have no qualms sleeping for three hours plus after sex. Come on afternoon naps are a luxury now.
   
3. Also mean there's just one more day before Monday.

Donuts

1. Alright I still have a sweet tooth. I've had it ever since young when having dinner/lunch was often viewed as an annoying necessity but had no problems polishing off an entire box of after eight mints with great gusto. If I were a girl, I'd probably starve myself and stuff my self with salads just to spend those dreaded calories on desserts or anything sweet. Like the Sister does. But I'm not, so I still enjoy my meals with great gusto AND my desserts/sweets.

2. D is for Desserts. D is also for Donuts. Which may or may not be a subset of desserts. You can have a donut anytime of the day. But then again I've never been particularly constrained by the societal restrictions of having desserts after a meal or for tea. I could have them for breakfast if I felt like it. Which I do. Well, sometimes.
   
3. So anyway, I'd always seen/ heard about the horrendous queues which form for donuts, particularly those made by Donut Factory at Raffles City Shopping Center and decided to get some myself after a double scoop of New Zealand's Natural Ice Cream's very yummy Honey Hokey Pokey ice cream, just to see if it was really like all it was hyped up to be.

4. I'd never really been one for fancy donuts when I was a kid. The plain old sugared donut was more than enough to keep me satisfied and for some strange peculiar reason I never ever ate one of those chocolate rice sprinkled donuts. For one, the chocolate looked cheap (more butter than actual chocolate) and second, I just like the crunch of the sugar crystals when biting into a good old fashioned donut.
   
   
5. I bought a box of 12 donuts on impulse. Which like Sean commented loudly, is probably quite crazy considering there' s just my Dad and I left at home, the Sister and Mother having a whale of a time somewhere in Vietnam. And unlike me, my Dad doesn't have a sweet tooth. "At the rate you're eating, you're going to turn into a lard ball soon." The amicable Other Half pointed out. Which has some merit to it I guess, thin genes and a healthy metabolic rate won't last forever. But when the sweet tooth acts up, it must be satisfied. At all costs.

Reached home. Dad had 1. I polished off 4. I have to admit these donuts are addictive.

Triptych.

Watching. Waiting. Falling.


The roiling clouds billowing across the mental landscape.
Omnious, petulant, strident cracks of protest.
Tongues of light stabbing the horizon.
A pack of horses galloping across the dusty plains.
Hooves thundering, eddies of dust twirling in their wake.


And the raging stops, the sudden silence deafening.
Swirled patterns of sand etched into the barren landscape
Radiating out before melding into the cloudless sky.
A triptych of self, silvered sand and clear cerulean sky.

Then we meet. And we touch.


A myriad explosion of colour erupts.
Coruscating flashes of carmine, indigo, magenta.
Sand, sky, self blend into a seamless tapestry of motion and coloured light.
Gripped by a maelstorm of madness, a raucous riot of sensations and emotions.
Lulled into serenity by the comforting embrace of familiarity.

And I am drowning.
Drowning in velvet.

Watching. Waiting. Falling.

The Little Things.

I was reading 'Stars' by Keiko Konno, one of the two new yaoi manga I bought the other day. I'm glad I did, even though the cover work didn't look very attractive initially. It dealt with the complexities of a working relationship rather nicely and the main characters and their reactions were something any gay guy could relate to. To sum it up shortly, not your usual Yaoi fluff but a more in depth look at the problems two gay guys would face in their relationship as it progresses and how they handle it.

But the last two pages at the end really did hit home the axiom that in a relationship, the little things are what make up the whole and it so nailed the 'Morning After Sleep In' situation, it's a snapshot almost. We've done that too, in some of those rare sleepovers together, repeated almost the exact same words ( well except about the BO part) : your breath stinks, I'm so hot - move a bit, your bristles hurt and yes let me sleep a little longer.

(Snapshot from 2nd Last page of Stars by Keiko Konno- Read from Top right to bottom left in the typical manga style) Click to enlarge.

But inspite of the complains, to wake up beside the one you love is a simple but beautiful thing. A comfort sometimes taken for granted, even if only in the bleary-eyed mildly grumpy moments of half-awakeness.

(Snapshot from last page)


And the mangaka sums it up nicely, we do what we can for each other (something all lovers gay, straight or bi would), doing the little things together to pass the time while enjoying the other's company. Then when I realised I was happy, I knew surely that I could call this bleary eyed man beside me, tousled hair and prickly bristles, my one true love.

Spell by Fujiyama Hyouta

Eternal Sunshine

For the Other Half, who has always stood by and never given up on me even though I have been a veritable and absolute jerk at times. And yes Dear, I promise to check my phone to see if its on silent mode or the battery is flat in the future. ^^

The fog clung tenaciously, gloomy and clammy, its oppressive presence like some malevolent entity. Tis quiet, the muffled rustle of crushed leafs underfoot the only disturbance in this souless place.

Walking between the barely visible symmetrical rows of oaks in a sea of damp grey is strangely normal, as if it has always been done. Mind numbingly resigned, echoes a disembodied voice. Yet neither turning left nor right seems to be an attractive option.

After all, these perfectly aligned trees seem to extend in all directions into the deepening gloom. So inertia reigns and moving forward remains the direction of choice.

And there you were. Like an oasis in this grey desert. Waiting, receptive. My ever reliable but cruelly overlooked succour in times of need. Eternal sunshine of the clouded mind. For sunshine and its warmth is most sorely missed and appreciated when absent in this cold dank world.

Unwavering in its steadfastness amidst the brief flares of distraction. My eternal sunshine. Forgive me.

Getaway

The weekend getaway was one which Sean and I had been looking forward to. Given our rather tight financial budget and the fact that we weren't free to take Monday off, we settled for a weekend stay at a budget hotel close to town. Which on hindsight wasn't really a budget hotel after all.

I suppose what made the room more interesting was the personal open-air courtyard attached to the room, complete with an outdoor rain shower. Which as you can see from the picture, we quickly put to good use.

We enjoyed the sun, attempted to sun tan, got horny and had sex with the shower on instead. Showered, then had sex again. There is something deliciously naughty about fucking in the sun, with the knowledge that you're so damn close to town, the iconic towering Swissotel Stamford visible over the wall against an azure blue sky.

The darkened glass sliding doors served as mirrors, reflecting the courtyard on that sunny afternoon and adding an almost pornographic feel to that atmosphere. Which of course just made us hornier. Like Sean commented, this hotel really knows what its customers want. Ha ha. The fact that the courtyard was directly opposite the other room's courtyard (which meant if you peeped over the wall, you would be looking into the other courtyard) wasn't a hindrance cause like we joked, if there were people staying next door and they came out at the same time as us and with the same intention, we'd have a competition. And you can be sure it won't be Karaoke.

The getaway naturally entailed a lot of sex. We fucked in the sun, fucked under the shower, on the bed; we would have in the toilet if not for the fact that it consisted of a space measuring no more than 1 meter by 1 meter. Which basically meant there's barely enough space for two standing adults, let alone two sweaty adults in various acrobatic positions.

Of course sex wasn't the only thing we did. There is only so many times one can go a day. The days of the Energizer Bunny are, for better or worse, gone. Which was where the pigging out and clubbing bit came in. The food we had was good, from the expensive but splendid spread at Town restaurant at Fullerton to the Yu Kee Kway Chap just a couple of streets away from the hotel. If there's one thing other than sex that Sean and I can agree on wholeheartedly, it's good food.

Clubbing at Play (having taken over the erstwhile Happy) proved to be an utter bore. I think I've probably clubbed so hard and blown so much on drinks previously that I've kinda passed that phase. Don't get me wrong. Clubbing once in a while is still fine and dandy. The last one at St James a few months ago wasn't too bad.

The crowd was there, your usual mix of youngsters, macho Marys, fag hags, a few straight couples, couple of queens and the boy-next-door gang. It's just that the music at Play was really Blah. I only recognised one Celine Dion song and the Big Girls don't cry hit by Fergie. About the only entertainment that night was provided by a youngster no more than nineteen years old who had a bit too much to drink. Swaying precariously like a reed in the wind, he brushed aside his friend who was trying to drag him off the floor, jumped on the stage and proceeded to dance like a drugged whore. Which I think he excelled in, with him ripping off his shirt and proceeding to lick another guy on the face. Mmm..slut.

Don't think I'll be clubbing anytime soon. Anyhow, the Getaway was nice albeit too short, I hope to get a decent short getaway out of the country during the call break if possible. But still any time spent with Sean is always time well spent and enjoyable to boot. So I return, my ass a little sore but sated and hopefully recharged for the remainder of the PLC course.

Married.

Sweet. Simple. Sincere.

Other than a minor hiccup in the beginning: Sean wanted to go to the gym before instead of after exchanging the vows (which on hindsight was probably the better choice); everything else went perfectly. Even though the ambience was a little surreal: exchanging vows in his room to the music playing from my Sony Ericsson K800i, a wedding ensemble of our favourite songs I'd compiled the night before, his nephew bawling outside, loud and strident over his mom's repeated cooing; the moment was still special and very real.

Naturally, like I told Lynette the night before, most people would want their big day to be really special, celebrated with friends and loved ones in a memorable setting. Who doesn't? But when and if circumstances do not allow it, it's important to focus on what really matters. And that's the person you're getting married to. You aren't getting married to the ceremony or the environment. They're accessories, not the main subject matter.

We exchanged vows we'd each drafted and thought up of ourselves, rather than reciting by rote the standard ones. Things we wanted to say rather than things that are normally said. While Sean's was hardly the most eloquent or linguistically artistic, it was sincere, moving and heartfelt and that was all that mattered to me.

The entire exchanging of the vows and rings was short. We finished just as the magical first song, Panorama by Masaaki Fujioka, was coming to an end. Nothing mattered, we were married. The name Ho-Cheong has a nice if a little quaint ring to it.

And like they always say, 'A Picture is worth a Thousand Words.' Be happy for us. We certainly are.

Mush Gush

Sometimes, you just have this irresistible urge to sprout something incredibly mushy about the Significant Other, stuff that might make the average, indifferent third party observer cringe in embarrassment, for you. And when this urge strikes, there is this tendency to gush about the mushy stuff.

Not because of any burning desire to declare to the world how perfect one's partner is or how 'complete/pure' the love between the two love birds is. There is of course a sizeable minority who might be thus motivated: primarily those still in the ephemerous high of dreamy romance, frolicking in the warm sunny comfort of puppy love. I am not one of the blessed few, not amongst those still caught in the sweet pangs of youthful love; the Significant Other and I both know how imperfect we are and our love is hardly cherubic or pure. Carnal and consuming might be a more apt description. Heh heh. ^^

But I digress, this tendency to gush upon the onset of a Mush Attack is almost invariably premised on the strange yet simple notion that when reduced to its most basic level is: Even though I may not know exactly why, I just XXXXXXXX you to bits. And an inexplicable need to get it off your chest.

So I happen to be in such a mood now, I don't know why and I don't care. But in recognition of my civic duty not to swamp disinterested readers with nausea-inducing mush, I shall tone it down severely. Tonight's Harry Potter movie was over hyped and with the exception of a couple of fight scenes towards the end, boring. What you did though, my dear, was a very pleasant surprise. Extremely pleasant and shockingly surprising especially considering your previous stand with regards to this whole aspect.

I love you to bits and for some inexplicable reason I just wanted to devour you today. Lock, stock and barrel. From the moment we met up. Now. I know I know, you'll say it's just the dick talking. It's not. It'll do the talking tomorrow. And if the urge to gush mush came about everytime before/after sex, this blog would be a mush pit and be dismissed as trashy spam written by a maniac whose brains have turned to mush from all the sex.

So no, the rush to gush mush is not dependent on the availability of sex (or god forbid, the lack of it). And sex is most certainly not dependent on the urge to gush mush. Did I mention how much I love you dear (even though we piss each other off sometimes)? [Insert various mushy statements.]

In the Heat of the Night - Sandra

In the heat of the night,
You'll lose your heart and sell your soul.
I lose control
In the heat of the night...

Sean says.

I'm sure most of you know about that stupid game, Simon Says, where a person says "Simon Says pull your left ear" and everyone has to pull his/her left ear, etc, etc. It's a game that's almost inevitably used as an 'ice-breaker' due to the sheer lack of preparation needed and the ability to make people do retarded things in the spirit of 'getting to know you better.' I say it's stupid because attempting to be an excellent listener and executing the most ridiculous sort of actions perfectly, simply cements one's status as an excellent peon.

Plus obeying commands from an unknown entity called Simon is neither logical nor appealing. Unless Simon happens to be a cute, hot, toned guy and Says ," Let's Fuck." Then I'll do as Simon Says. But when the Boyfriend says something, it needs to be addressed, quickly, even if I don't always agree with it.

So ok la, I haven't been mentioning him much in the past few posts which have been by and far largely work related. But dear, I'm pretty sure you do not wanted to be lumped together with lawyers with a lame sense of humour or in a post bemoaning the drudgery of work. Plus you know, the fact that I haven't been talking about the two of us doesn't mean I've forgotten about you.

We're still the same, glad to have each other for company, maybe a little more time together would be nice but on the brighter side of things, we save more money and have less time to argue about stupid things. Like why I went to watch transformers. (Ha ha kiddin). The conversation's the same, the company still appreciated, sex remains great. Alright, I won't mind more of the latter and I'm talking about the full course kind, work feeds the sex-drive more and you know my penchant for anal sex.

But basically, all I'm saying is that whatever I feel for you is not dependent on the number of times I mention you/us on the blog la you kotek and I know you know that too. So I'll just put that comment down to you having had a little too much to drink during that Villa Bali sojourn with Gerard and Gavin. ^^

I'm of course not blameless and Sean has said I'm becoming a workaholic, which I'm not, trust me. But when there are a multitude of things to be done within a tight span of time especially during this pre-trial period, staying-back late and burning the weekend is inevitable. So no point complaining about that right? :)

Even though I do space out sometimes, like earlier while on the phone with him while waiting for the cab I just called, I told Sean I'd call him back cause I needed to call my Dad to ask him to iron my work wear for tomorrow. Then the cab came and I got off the phone with my dad. And I clean forgot about returning the call; my mind instead filled with thoughts about the necessary documents/ authorities preparation before tomorrow's trial, additional issues for the research topic, necessary books to bring along, what time I had to haul myself out of bed in order to reach office by 7.40 AM, etc.

It was only when he called some 10 mins later as I was reaching home that I suddenly remembered I was supposed to return the call. He was understandably vocal in the loud but not pissed way when I told him I'd clean forgotten about returning his call. But I plead fatigue, after all staying back late for 4 days in a row and having my entire weekend burnt does exact a toll.

Still it's something I'll have to get used to, at least the pattern is discernible now. Relatively easygoing on normal days and really hectic/busy during the pre-trial and trial period. The DPP knows why I'm not complaining, that much. As for you dear, I'm still the same, maybe just in greater need of some recharging via my very favourite activity a-la-full course action. :)

Lords of the Rings

So Sean and I went ring hunting today. We'd always wanted to get a pair of rings for some time now but had been putting it off for a while for a variety of reasons ranging from plain inertia to our ever-present financial woes. And as we wanted the rings to be something that we'd wear and would last, those tacky cheap stainless-steel couple rings you see on sale at your average small booth were out of the question.

Naturally, the added mental obstacle of two guys stepping into the branch of a branded jewellery chain and asking to see and try on the various men's' rings from the wedding rings collection was already a little daunting to me. To Sean, the usually more thin-skinned (regarding such matters) of the two of us, the prospect must be well nigh terrifying. Though he'd never admit that fact.

Anyhow, we decided to do some real shopping today, since the horrendous queues at the various food outlets at AMK Hub around eight at night promised to make dinner a tiresome affair. SK jewellery got firmly ruled out (don't ask why-I'm clueless); Citigems had one miserable crummy booth, right smack in the middle of the teeming mass of human traffic, a definite no -no. We settled on Lee-Hwa, which looked nice and presentable sans the bevvy of sales attendants that plague the entrances of other chains, most notably Taka Jewellery. Shudders.

So steeling ourselves, we walked in and when approached by the sales attendant asked to see the men's' rings upon which she immediately directed us to the wedding rings collections. She was chatty, showing off the various rings and explaining the difference between the styles and different precious metals used. Sean remained awfully quiet for the longest period of time so I was basically just talking to her and pointing out the various rings which I thought he might like.

The poor girl must have thought Sean was totally uninterested cause he remained relatively mute even after she'd taken out about 4-5 different rings from various shelves, that she kept asking ," So how? Any style you prefer?" I got a little worried too because frankly the prices of $600 and above were a little startling and the combined sum of my current bank accounts couldn't even pay for one ring let alone two; plus I had no idea if he was just window shopping first- he had that bloody mask on his face again.

It was only after the girl left for a short while to get yet another design when he suddenly turned to me and asked, "So which one do you like? Hurry up decide, how about this? (the ring we settled for)" that I knew he was serious about buying the rings. It's strange but throughout the entire course of 1.5 hours from when we first walked in to when we left the shop after making the purchases, the sales attendant never figured out that we were a gay couple.

One would have thought otherwise and indeed I thought she knew and was simply conducting business on a 'I know, you know, who cares' basis. I mean I would think it's pretty obvious when two guys walk into a jewellery shop, ask to see men's rings from the wedding rings section, want the same ring, try it on the same finger of the same hand and pay for the rings together; that they're not your average buddy/pals simply looking for the same ring.

It was only when she was going through the discounts and other payment details that I realised she remained utterly clueless as to our status even going as far to mention that "...you can decide to give the free wedding ring pillow to your girlfriend or female friends.." So anyway, because my ring finger is apparently just one size above the largest female size (sad but true... his ring finger size is my middle finger size, about 4 sizes bigger ^^), mine needs to be custom made which means a 3 month waiting period.

3 months before we officially seal our commitment to each other and this eventful relationship. In the meanwhile, we're really broke, Sean for footing the close to $1300 bill for the rings while I'll need to find half that sum to pay for his. Else it won't make much sense, would it? Or maybe not. Grins. I'm kidding, I'll pay for yours dear. Now, along with the astronomical prices I've been spending on food at work thus far and the upcoming PLC, all I need to do is to eat grass for a few more months than originally planned.

The Little Things.

It's the little things he does that never fails to remind me why I love him so and not to take things for granted. Little things like Royce chocolate for no particular reason/special occasion and that quaint but fun chinese tea session at Tea Chapter. Thank you dear.

Affirmation

It was on that stormy Saturday. Overcast sky, lightning forking through the blackening sky, people scuttling around like an army of ants.

I enjoyed the harsh rasp of wind on my face and the hint of rain in the air when you tugged insistently at my hand. "Time to go," you said. Reluctantly I turned and followed.

The rain came fast and hard and we ran laughing, yelling, cursing to your car. The rain, a celebration of life, left me weak yet inundated with a sense of reckless joy to be blessed thus by nature's gift of life.

You look at me as we get into the car, clothes soaked and shoes squeaking. "Happy huh? You look just like the young boy I remember." Too happy and wet to register it fully I give a non-committal grunt.

Pulling out to the expressway amidst the torrential rain you shoot me a sidelong glance and grab my hand. "Do you still love me?" you query, a tinge of insistency, in your voice. I spin around startled and halting any further talk, your need to explain yourself (the urge so plain on your face), I plant my finger on those lips and seal them with a kiss.

We ride back in silence both captive of the surreality of the scene just unfolded as the rain continued its endless patterns on the windows, the sound a mesmerising and hypnotic angry patter.

To that unanswered question you asked so long ago,
Yes I still do.

06 June 2003

Note: Written almost 4 years ago, the memory even older still, yet its funny how that moment stands still in time, as fresh and real as if it were only yesterday. And after all these years I can say with greater conviction. Yes, I still do.

Dear in Drag.

Alright I'm just thoroughly amused. The Boyfriend had earlier smsed gleefully from his company's dinner function announcing that the drag dance number his team had put up came in first and he had also clinched an additional best dressed award with a 100 bucks Tangs shopping voucher as the prize. That coming from a guy to whom the whole concept of 'drag' is an alien affair and regularly receives very unwanted attention (from my point of view) from his female colleagues. And to think that two days ago he was still lamenting over the phone that his team members commented that he looked too stiff and unnatural when performing the number. Oh I can just imagine. Ha ha.

So while on the phone with Sean later I asked him whether he felt 'more in touch with his feminine side.'
"Eh, of course not! It felt strange and that need to keep crossing my legs cause the skirt was really airy down there."
"Hmmm that drag routine didn't destroy your reputation as an eligible bachelor amongst the office ladies?"
"Nope, still very popular."
"Right.... pity. "
Then it suddenly occured to me.
"Wait, you danced in your colleague's dress and high heels? How did you fit in?"
"Squeezed a bit for the heels. But the dress was no problem."
"She's that big sized??"
"Her waistline is bigger than mine..."
"O...kaaaay...LOL."

Suits me fine, I like my guy just the way he is: a man not a drag.

It's been like what close to two weeks since I've last seen him due to my exams and his work and I miss him so badly. To see him and hold him. Two more days...I know, there are people in long distance relationships who can barely see each other once a year and hats off to those who can maintain/suffer through something like that.

Though I guess maybe once you have something, the knowledge that that special someone is nearby/available and the experiences cum memories you have just spending time with that person makes that sudden absence more unbearable than if you never had much interaction in the first place. Maybe.

For now, all I know is: I need him to Rescue me.....

Rescue Me: Aretha Franklin

Rescue me
Oh take me in your arms
Rescue me
I want your tender charms
Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too

Come on and rescue me
Come on baby and rescue me
Come on baby and rescue me
'Coz I need you, by my side
Can't you see that I'm lonely
Rescue me

Come on and take my heart
Take your love and conquer every part
'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too
Come on and rescue me

Come on baby and rescue me
Come on baby and rescue me
'Coz I need you by my side
Can't you see that I'm lonely
Rescue me

Oh take me in your arms
Rescue me
I want your tender charms
'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too
Come on and rescue me
Come on baby, take me baby, hold me baby, love me baby
Can't you see that I need you baby
Can't you see that I'm lonely
Rescue me

Come on and take my hand
Come on baby and be my man
Cuz I love you cuz I want you
Can't you see that I'm lonely?
Take me baby
love me baby
need me baby
Can't you see that I'm lonely?

Rescue me, rescue me.......

The little things.

We argue about the most ridiculous things, petty little things like where to go for dinner, watching TV the whole day when Mr X said he had a lot of garbage/work to clear up the night before, unfathomable reluctance to see a doctor when ill, etc. Then we end up laughing about the stupidity of it all and making veiled 'threats' of punishments to be meted out. There is something about Instant Messaging over MSN, some element of callousness coupled with the very nature of its instantaneous exchange that allows one to fire off messages that can both annoy or frustrate. Even the lack of a perceived timely response to one's query can awaken those first twangs of annoyance, (ie: "Oi, it's been 5 mins since I asked you XXX and you still haven't responded, surfing porn ah?" "No lah, checking email." "......").

Last night was no exception, after sending me two screenshots of the bus and hotel booking dates/time for confirmation, stuff I thought we'd confirmed a week before (but it's alright you know, cause better to confirm since Sean doesn't trust his memory), I thought we could simply start chit chatting. Then he sent me a third screenshot.

Me: What's this for?
Him : Seating plan for the bus.
Me: Aiyo, can't you decide for that? You don't have to ask me for this kind of stuff. (* a trifle annoyed*)
Him: Well they're all three seats in a row. Hurry up and look at it, there's a time limit.
Me: It's two seats, aisle and a single seat. Not three seats in a row. I don't need to decide on everything do I?
Him: I've never sat on this bus before. Where do you want to seat?
Me: Fine, sit right at the back.
Him: Don't want.
Me:........... (@#$%)
Me: That's where I sat the last two times for both trips.
Him: Oh, ok do you want to seat there then?
Me: No. Take the two seats two rows from the back. Make it three.
Him: What seat numbers?? Why don't you just look at it???
Me:... fine.
Me : 7B 7C
Him: You sure 7? Not 8?
Me: No. (@#@$#%$@^$^$#^#$!)
Me: 7 means 7.
Him: But that's four rows from the back.
Me: Look you asked me to choose the seats right? 7B and 7C. Not 8. 7.

So by this time I was more than a trifle annoyed and I logged off to tinker with msconfig for no apparent reason. 10 mins later I logged back on, that familial aftermath setting in.

Him: Where did you go?
Me: Went off to do something. (ie: really nothing at all)
Him: Ok I booked it.
Me: Any more screenshots of stuff you want to confirm you'd like to send?
Him:..
Me: Arg. It's so frustrating sometimes, I wish I could just reach across and slap you. Then hug you.
Him: Right, I want to throttle you and make love to you.
Me: Ha ha, we feel the same way again I see. You'll be seeing me tomorrow.
Him: Yah, can't wait.

It's true, they say the little things play an understated but important role in a relationship and shouldn't be neglected. But don't let it detract your focus on what really matters, the two of you. Besides a little zest spices things up, just a little mind you. And in the end, what is life if you cannot love?

N/B: The only reason why I wrote about this is cuz the Boyfriend was very insistent.

Walking in the Rain.

Today was a wet day. Pouring from the early afternoon all the way till about nine plus at night. The perfect weather for sleeping but weather that was not reflective of my mood. The mixed euphoria, relief and slightly drained feelings still residual from the emotional rollercoaster ride the night before buoyed with the knowledge that I'd be seeing him again later.

Trudging to school in that downpour, I only realised later while walking out after class, to my consternation that the rickety blue umbrella was leaking. The constant stream of droplets landing on my head, an inreffutable indicator that the umbrella with broken, rickety spines could be recycled no longer. So after meeting Sean at Bugis Mrt, I resolutely informed him that I needed to get an umbrella first before we walked to the DSC clinic at Kelantan Lane. "What's wrong with that?" He pointed at the soaked blue umbrella. " It leaks." "Oh."

Sadly for some weird reason, the only kind of portable umbrella on sale in Watson's were techni-coloured polka dotted ones. But beggars cannot be choosers. So I chose the most neutral colour: Polka dotted Beige (relatively -When contrasted with barbie pink, neon green and a most ghastly shade of dirty purple).
"You sure you want to throw this away?" Sean said wagging the blue umbrella.
"Try opening it and see for yourself."
"Ok..It's all wet inside..."
"Stupid thing was leaking and dripping on my head."

We walked to DSC clinic for the $20 HIV anonymous testing because it was what he requested and I wanted- a necessary thing to finally lay to rest the exhumed ghosts of the past. Staffed by other AJs (gays), testing and the counselling (which was fast for me- cuz it was my second test, longer for the poor boy who had to sit through a lecture about unprotected sex) was relatively fast, about 15 mins and we were finished with the results and all. Negative for both, of course.

We decided to walk to the Mustafa area of Little India for dinner and to take the NorthEast line up to Sengkang from Farrer Park station. Walking in the rain, Sean holding that beige polka dotted umbrella, arm around my shoulder, body snug close to his, past those back lanes, the small shops stocked with their garish wares, loud hindi music blasting from the store fronted with plastic music CDs; that moment was pure bliss. Walking in the rain, just the two of us.

We stopped for a very gratifying and filling dinner at Anada Bhavan Vegetarian restaurant (at one of its more modern 'express food' style outlets in Little India) just one road down from Mustafa. Cheap and Good. $6 for the South Indian set that I tell you comes chock full with so much stuff you don't know where to begin. So you do what the Indians do, mix everything up into a messy mush that looks disgusting but is incredibly tasty and eat. As Sean commented, imagine if all the Tiffin carriers contained meat instead of vegetables and the various vege curries /curd/ pickles.
"I think I'd throw up halfway through." I grimace.
"Hmm, ya I think I would too. This thing is already filling enough as it is."

Took some pics, cause I still remember the first time I sat down to a meal like that back in Primary six, that wide-eyed wonder as I thought to myself 'That's HUGE! And they have this everyday?'. And I could hardly finish half. These days I can finish it all, barely if I'm starving. Today I left a bit behind, but it was immensely satisfying.



Ok I was bored while waiting (it took only 5 mins for the food to be ready though). 'Badges' of honour covering the pinpricks and the AfA (Action for Aids) $20 cash only receipt.

Kyaaa! Just look at that monster. Alright don't ask me the names, I don't know what 70% of that is except that everything is vegetarian. 14 kinds of side dishes including the two pastes, a mountain of steaming white rice and delightfully purple pickles. Sweet white Lassi (yoghurt drink) in the background. Sean took the same set cuz they were out of Briyani. SIX bucks.

Now to mix and mash it all up. Disgusting but positively Yummy. Not fully mixed but you get my drift. And I swear this is the first time I've ever eaten something so purple (that wasn't some sweet, Jam or confectionary). Mixing can be a form of art too, you get the different colours of course, white, yellow, red, green, purple and when mixed well, the ensuing taste is really different, a blend that is really indescripable: savoury, spicy, sour with a tinge of sweetness.
Dropping me off later, we kissed and Sean slipped a cheque into my hand.
"Thanks so much for being with me, here's a little something." He whispered.
"What? You don't need to give me anything for being with you. I always wanted to." And I tried to slip it into his pocket.
"No, of course not it's not that, just a little thank you from the bonus. Use it to save up for the grad trip."
"Oh alright, thank you." Another kiss and he drives off.

Later on I get the Text: 'Don't get me wrong I'm not paying you to be my bf or anything k. Just to share with you what I got from last year.'
I know dummy, I was just teasing you. Hugs. Thank you. For everything and especially that walk in the rain. With you, just the two of us.

'I'm hooked on a feeling, I'm high on believing that you're in love with me.' -Hooked on a Feeling /BJ Thomas

Redemption

By you I have been redeemed. The paralysis that set in: the inability to eat, think coherently or do anything, lifted. That phone call was painful, excruciatingly so. I cried so hard, ashamed, embarrassed, wretched, never having given careful consideration to how you felt. But it was worth it.... The thought of losing you permanently unbearable, something which frightened me more than anything else. That aching vise like grip in the chest, a pain palpably physical like a gaping hole threatening to consume all into oblivion.

"Don't cry please." You said, tears behind that voice. But I couldn't help it. Face in hands, violent wracking sobs that would not be stopped, the tears flowing freely. And something you said that will always stay with me. "We don't live for ourselves only, we live for each other too just as I live for you and our actions will have to reflect that." So true.

"I'm not leaving you, this is something we have to bear together."
"But I'm the one entirely at fault, you shouldn't have to bear it. It's unfair to you, just do whatever you want with me."
"I'll bear it with you because we face things together, as a couple."

Bitter-sweet. Thank you for redeeming me.

Truth

Thank you for reminding me so pointedly that a relationship without truthfulness on the part of both parties lacks a fundamental tenet. Without total and frank disclosure, trust is a concept fervently cherished, painstakingly constructed on a bedrock of suppressed half-truths and glossed over distractions that one hopes will disappear with the passage of time.

Thank you for galvanising me into action, into confessing one's infidelity and abject wretchedness fuelled by lust of the flesh and a mind that has been quick to act, worry about the consequences later.

Yes what a tangled web we weave when we first learn to deceive. The need to carry on some lies hanging on in perpetuity. Love without Truth is flawed, that truism I agree with and is something I've struggled with for so long. Hoping that by focusing on the genuine affection and love I held that miraculously some form of self penitence could be achieved, the wrongs wrought absolved by the strength and genuinity of Love coupled with the steadfast determination never to repeat it again.

But yes I see it now, not so as debasing the notion of Love, wielding it like some common catchphrase to encompass a casual concoction of companionship, sex and convenience. Perhaps once I would have, maybe once I even did, but not now. And to perceive as you would from a bystander's viewpoint, coming to such a stand with such nonchalance that love is simply a school girl's dream, a fantasy of convenience and romance, ignores the fact that I really love him. Simple as that. Sure my past actions probably throw a dubious light on my declaration, and natural cynic that you(Kate) are, are undoubtedly justified in coming to such a conclusion. But we humans are complex creatures and relationships are complex interactions that defy logic and reason. Why we act the way we do. Can you seriously say that you've never lied to someone you love or matters incredibly much to you yourself?

But I digress and my intention is not to justify for I stand before you, Sean, incredibly damned and broken. Without truth, continuing this desperate attempt to gloss over damning infidelity by focusing solely on the present, all the while looking into your eyes, haunted by the very realisation that I have not been giving you the truth. Dark secrets that threaten to burst forth from their shallow grave. Without truth, continuing this gaily disguised charade of one, is a one sided and extremely selfish affair that does you no justice. How can I expect the same from you when I cannot even confess what I've done.

Those terrible deeds of infidelity that gnaw inside and remind that whatever you have given to me 100%, I cheated on in those times. And returning it 110% now, not out of guilt, but of genuine realisation that I was always running from my heart, that the love I have for you is real, attempting to make up for the past; Is no form of self-penitence, no justice to you, for only with Truth may I possibly be absolved. By you and only you.

"Give me sometime to digest this. It's too sudden." The pain and anger you no doubt feel. Justified in every way. I want to say: Should you so decide it unforgivable, so terribly despicable and say goodbye I will understand. But I can't. Even though I do understand the wretchedness you feel, the hurt I've caused, the beast I am, I still don't know what i'll do without you. Ironic isn't it, this inability, this refusal to let go still stems from that selfish need of needing you. But It takes two to clap, I'll wait, I'll do anything I can but if you want nothing more to do with me. I'll understand. Maybe accept eventually. But not now, should I plead for forgiveness? I don't even have the right to do so. Tell me.

To the one whose tongue of acid that shocks and bites. Words are immaterial. Love can be love by any other name, it's the substance not the form. A carnation will never be a rose, that is obvious but its beauty lies not in its imitability but in its very essence..of being a carnation. I don't prophesy, Love is no Oracle but a constant journey. We cannot predict the future but we can face it together. And when the constantly cultivated evolution blossoms, the journey is that much better.

Confessing brings crushing relief, bitter with the tinge of betrayal and wretchedness, sweet with the knowledge of coming clean, the purging of unsavoury debris. Don't let go. I'll be waiting.

$173 has been banked into your account via cheque, Kate. ($39 for the bus ride which leaves $79 for Annie and $94 for you.)

Drowning

I am drowning, drowning in your love. I do not regret the impulsive decision to meet you at St James’ power station which was as huge as the now defunct Sparkz. My first visit there, as was yours not that it mattered, it had been ages since we last went clubbing, those Centro era days a hazy memory. Ages, and the thought of lazing about in the sis’s pre booked swissotel rooms unbearable with you so nearby. So I went off after catching Ghost Rider with the family on the pretext of coffee with campmates -the oft brandished excuse. Short as it may be, time with you is always precious. Keeping our hands off each other was hard but I was pleasantly surprised in the club, the intensity with which you gripped me left me breathless and incapacitated. Immobile in that maelstrom of passion. Lost in your embrace, everything else fading to insignificant nothingness, the display of affection private and blind. Set free from the shackles of driving, you seemed wild even exuberant, ordering drinks with a vengeance that shocked even the alcohol hardened me.

Having bought a splendid (as always) Asahi at 7 Eleven before hurrying off to meet you at St James Power Station (where the queue was horrendous and entailed a great deal of shoulder tapping, excuse mes and squeezing before getting to you in the front) because a little 'apertif' is always better (both as a warm-up and on the pocket), you gave me that quizzical look of yours. “What drinking again? We better dispose of this before we get in.”
“I was thirsty!”
And you grinned while that not very cute friend of yours (Yongmin right?) smiled and tried to strike up the usual conversation which naturally had to be entertained.
Someone then proceeded to drink like a fish or rather order alcohol like a hard core wino. Let me see how did it go, I had a crappy Tiger(bloody House pour didnt include Heineken><), you had a Bourbon Coke, we proceeded to Gin Tonic each then a jug of Vodka Lime which as usual tasted more of lime than vodka though the vodka was really at the bottom and finally a Jug of Gin Tonic which was kick ass though I’d only expected a glass but that alcohol happy boy was on auto now. Grinning and groping which was a great turn on and I eagerly devoured you while you rocked happily to the music and declared chirpily: 'I’m really really high now you know.'

“I know my alcohol tolerance has always been higher than yours and I’m really high now, you must be quite drunk now. You absolutely must not order anything more after this OK, promise me, I have to leave soon.”
“Mmm.. ok.”
And you grinned, bopping happily on the seat, grinding your bum against my groin and planted a nice sloppy french kiss. But you really made me worry and even in the cab I wasn’t at ease, having to contact you and make you pass the phone to Gavin who kindly agreed to look after you ( declaring that you couldn't even stand properly on your own two feet—and you had conveniently wandered out to meet them you dodo!) Even so I’m really glad I went and seeing you again after that short hiatus sent shivers up my spine. That quiet joy. I almost feel sorry for your friend.

Anyhow this is the last time you’ll ever drink like that when I’m not around to the end. Lost in your embrace. Hugs.

Happy Birthday!

Happy 26th Birthday, Boy!
Now you're once again two years older than me, not that it matters:) Everyday I am reminded, constantly, just how much you mean to me.
Finding quiet comfort in your embrace, gentle warmth in your presence, constant longing in your absence.
Happy Birthday dear!


And specially for you: Panorama--Gakuen Heaven Soundtrack.