Thursday, August 9, 2012
Friday, July 1, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Please, no re-fucking the ex. That's like going through your garbage and eating that cheese pizza from three nights ago. Not only is it unhealthy and disgusting beyond belief, it will definitely make you sick.
Rules may or may not help aid a broken heart. It all boils down to time, strong will, and patience. Cry your heart out, make voodoo dolls. It does get better eventually. Like they say, breaking up is hard to do. No shit, Neil Sedaka.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Three hours into our catching up, I began to realize that we've spent 95% of those hours talking about men. Dated, dating, and want to date. We could've caught up about work, family, uni life but yet, the chosen topic was men. Back in Jersey, when I hung out with my girlfriends and met their friends, it all boils down to the same thing as well. They would ask questions like "So are you still seeing so and so" and it proceeds to "how's it going", "why didn't it work out", and "what a jerk off he is". I used to pride myself in being one of those girls who aren't boy crazy but this made me think, why are we so fixated on this subject?
I honestly believe the age factor plays a big part. The older you get, the higher the pressure. Everyone seems to be in a rush to find someone they can settle down with. It's a chase society secretly organized the moment you hit 25 and aren't even aware you're a part of.
You can tell how society places relationships on such a high pedestal these days with all the matchmaking services out there. You have a million online dating sites, classifieds to find your 'soul mate' in newspapers daily, match making companies, and last but not least, speed dating. Yes, we want to find someone so bad that we have compromised time. We've cheapened the whole value and sentiment of actually meeting someone and slowly getting to know that person.
As Caitlin puts it, at our age, all the good ones are taken. The ones left are usually damaged or there's probably something wrong with them. So, personally, I believe we're just worried there aren't any decent ones left and this results in us to subconsciously be on a perpetual quest to look for someone special until those vows are exchanged.
But here's my two cents, you don't rush an artist when he's painting his masterpiece, do you? So please people, calm the fuck down.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Seven years ago I met the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. We met through a group of mutual friends, at a bar where we all got together for mid-week drinks. I’ve almost never hung around people my own age. These people were all fresh graduates, with new jobs and pay checks they thought they have to contribute to happy hour.
When we met I was instantly smitten. We had a seven-year age gap, which when you think about it is not too bad. I was seven years younger to a newly-minted professional. You do the math.
Four years we spent together - four amazing, wonderful, tumultuous and torturous years. It took me a year to get over him, and another year before I started talking to him again. In that time, I never had a (comparatively) significant relationship. At first it was because I didn’t want one – I had spent the better part of my prime as a gay man in a monogamous (well, given his history SOMEWHAT monogamous) relationship. I felt that it was time I spread my wings. And by wings I mean legs.
So I did. In between all of that I did have my fair share of ‘boyfriends.’ There were some guys that I met whom I felt I could not just be in a physical relationship with. Safe to say none of those worked out because two years and countless men (okay, maybe four) later, I’m back at square one. I don’t want a relationship.
I’ve been seeing this great guy for about six months now. We’re not in a relationship. We sleep together. He buys me soup when I’m sick. I pick him up when he’s stranded at the train station. I feel upset when he does not show up for my performances. He thinks I should make an effort to meet his friends. That’s what no strings attached is, right? Clearly I’m a pro.
I found out a few months ago that my ex-boyfriend (the first one) met the girl (yes, he’s one of those mythical ‘real’ bisexuals) of his dreams, and they’ve decided to get married.
Why would I want a relationship? The only man I ever saw myself with is getting married. I’m in a non-relationship relationship with a guy I had a no-strings agreement with. My life is in perfect order. Who needs a relationship? I don’t.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Sher and I were having our bi-monthly margarita-Tuesdays when our conversation somehow segued into sex. Conversation about sex, I mean. Sher and I were never incredibly close, but over the past few months we’ve grown fond of the other’s company, and quite enjoy our little sessions. It’s like going home for lunch, but having an afternoon delight instead. The only way I can express the pleasure I feel after.
We’re both in very different places in our lives. Sher has been with her boyfriend for almost three years, and they could not be more in love. He’s gone back to his home country to finish his medical residency, so they are trying the whole long-distance thing. I’ve never believed in those kinds of relationships but if anyone could make it work, it would be Sher. I, on the other hand, am single but not available.
I remember when I was in her position – a steady, solid, monogamous relationship. I also remember how despite how adventurous, willing, and driven my partner and I were, the fireworks in the bedroom got less bright and exciting as time went on. It’s not that we were not attracted to each other, because we were. But things just changed, and priorities and what we “get off on” shifted.
Clearly I was the only one at the table who experienced this.
“What does that even mean? How can it fizzle out?”
Silly, naive girl. Clearly her relationship was not as mature as mine. Eventually things change and the relationship grows.
“Don’t get me wrong, that’s great and all but how often did you guys do it?”
What a nosy parker. Was she fishing for tips because she knew what a great relationship I had? So I told her. When we first started going out we were at it like rabbits, and as time progressed we went into double-rabbit mode. But as time kept moving on, the rabbits were released and we were down to maybe twice a week.
“I’m a year short of your relationship, and we do it about eight times a week.”
Hahah. What a liar. I can see right through her.
“I’m not saying it proves anything, but I can’t imagine it any other way. We don’t HAVE to have sex all the time, but we just can’t help ourselves sometimes. I mean yes, sometimes we have to make sure we do but more often than not, it just happens and poof – eight times a week.”
Please. Eight times a week. Clearly her relationship is nowhere near the seriousness and commitment of where my relationship was. Eight times a week? That’s still the puppy love stage. Whatever, Sher.
“Do you think that not doing it as often was part of why you guys broke up?”
Monday, May 30, 2011
It really is hard to put a number to what is considered normal. I've known of cases where both, the guy and the girl, think that by bonking everyday proves their love for one another. They believe the display of affection and intimacy for one another will strengthen the relationship. It also gives them the comfort of knowing that they are still attracted to one another sexually. Or, if you're cynical, they might want to tire their partner out so he or she would be too worn out to screw around.
Next would probably be the social norm and accepted number by most people. That number would be 3-4 times a week. They believe in spreading their love (and legs) evenly throughout the week. The reason being, they are allowing room for the sexual tension to build up, causing the love making session much more pleasurable when experienced. Or, if you're cynical, they're just downright lying. They are nothing but pretentious pricks who want to appear normal in the eyes of society because secretly, they're too busy and they can only get it up once a week.
Then you have the barely any sex couples. These are the ones who only do it on special occasions. Mostly Valentines Day and birthdays. And if you're lucky, maybe Christmas. I do know of cases where the lesser the sex, the better the relationship. I believe at this point, sex has become secondary in the relationship. It's everything else in between that bonds them emotionally and keep them together. That, or if you're sardonic, they're fucking other people.
It is an unspoken rule that the number decreases as the time increases. Just like any new toy, its novelty wears thin after awhile.
I believe it is ludicrous to put a number just to validate your relationship with someone. If it happens, it happens. (Unless you're 16 and living with your parents and the only window of opportunity is after school and they are at work, but that is a different story all together). It should never be forced just to fill a quota.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
S1E10 - As I watched Laney tear open a terry cloth baby bib with the same enthusiasm she once reserved for tearing off rock stars' pants, I couldn't help but wonder, was I next?
Truth is, everyone I know is either on the path of marriage, engaged, marrying next weekend, married or having babies. It took me this long to write on this subject because I can't relate to having a baby. The closest I can say is having a dog.
And here is another piece of truth - not only is this subject foreign to me, I never could find the right words to describe how I feel about it. I could write an eight paragraph long article about my enthusiasm in having babies, or I could write another eight paragraphs about being a pseudo feminist career woman who doesn't want or need babies.
But, I believe that I'm already a great mother for not wanting to bring kids into this world with the wrong man.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
I’ve never liked driving down to Johor. It’s a long, tiring, and mostly unrewarding journey.
But this time it was different.
We were visiting one of our best friends, Sasha. Over the past five years, the five of us have done some pretty crazy things together, Sasha, Momes, Geeps, Fran and myself. From drunken nights to baked afternoons, we’ve created some pretty awesome memories for ourselves.
Sasha always was the craziest one. The one who always got the party going; the one who was the first and last on the dance floor; the one who was on a two-year probation for being under the influence.
Yeah, Sasha was always the “fun” one in any group.
Driving to Johor with our hipster music and Nicole Richie sunnies, we couldn’t help but reminisce on the good times we shared with Sasha. Before heading down to Johor, we thought it’d be best if we got her something.
“Would weed be an appropriate gift?” Momes asked. As much as she would love it, it just wouldn’t be right. You see, Sasha just had a baby, and we had no idea how to react.
After years of battling with it on so many levels, I’ve come to terms with the idea that I’ll probably never have a family. But with all that’s been going on around me, I really can’t help but wonder – what would happen if I had a baby? Judging by the turn of events (I’ve spent a total of eight-hundred and twenty-five dollars on baby gifts) it seems like it’s only a matter of time before I pop one out myself.
Whenever any of my friends have babies, I always freak. As much as I’d hate to believe it, it’s true – people do change after they have babies. Sasha was nowhere near as crazy as she once was. Dummies replaced shot glasses and hidden compartments that once held spliffs now had emergency diaper-rash lotion.
I was a little disoriented when we were leaving Sasha’s to head back to our hotel. I looked around at my remaining three friends and arranged them according to who would have a baby first. Just as I was about to burst into tears realising that in three years I’d be ditched for diapers, Sasha pulled me in for a goodbye hug.
“Baby or no baby, I’m expecting rounds on you and J’s on the rest when I’m back home.”