Conversations

image source: http://www.anothermag.com/

Here's how our typical before-falling-asleep conversations went:

Me: Dear
Jack: Yes, Dear?
-silence-
Me: Dear
Jack: Yes, Dear?
-silence-
Me: Dear
Jack: Yes, Dear?
-silence-

And then I snuggle up closer to him and fall asleep...

Lists and A Fond Memory

My best friend recently introduced me to an awesome new webbie, called listography.com. It's basically a site where you can make lists. It's so cool because I do keep lists... In fact, I have a book of lists: list of books I want to collect in the long term, list of movies I want to own, list of furniture I'd like for my future house... More importantly, I have a list of all the things I love about my ex as well as, err... embarrassingly, a list of some guys that I've had crushes on. Well, I guess I could say it's these lists that are the entire inspiration for this blog. I wanted to have a place to expand on the stories that some of the points in my list represent. I mean, the points on the list don't exactly tell the entire story... they just sort of act as retrieval cues for those memories that I wish to keep forever. I guess you could say that I'm sorta afraid I would forget these beautiful memories... Hmmmm, come to think about it, I often fear I may never make such beautiful memories again. So it's good to sometimes remind myself that I once experienced such wonderful times in my life...? Sigh...

Anyhow, I will soon make an account on listography and transfer my lists in my book into listography.com. So, you can look out for that! Well, today, without looking at my book, I was just pondering, off-hand, some of the things that I loved about my ex. Two things came to mind.

The first one. I loved how he always put most of his beansprouts in his noodle soup into my noodle soup whenever we went to Asian restaurants for noodle soup. He did it ever since I once told him how much I loved eating beansprouts. I think I should add that he too loves beansprouts in his noodle soup... and that's enough said.

The second one. We were lying in bed one night, talking, before we finally drifted off to sleep... I was gushing  about how I was having a sudden craving for the wanton suppe that they sell in my hometown. (This was during the time when we were both studying and staying in the hostel of our school in Switzerland... It was where we met.) Fast forward to two weeks later... I was hanging out in my friend's room - Rosie's room. Some of us girls from my class were having a mini party because it was Rosie's birthday. We were chatting, having some cake, playing with balloons, sitting on her bed, drinking some red wine when suddenly, there was a knock on the door...

image source: http://dearoly.blogspot.com/

When they opened the door, it was Jack! He had a serious look on his face and he was looking for me. My face was slightly flushed from the red wine. "Ohhhh, you're in trouble Jenny!!" the whole room cheered teasingly as I went with him (We were still a fairly new couple at the time). When I was out, he said quietly, "You drank." It sounded more like a statement than a question. "Err.. yeah. Just a little. Just to celebrate Rosie's birthday, you know." Then, he looked at me, still with that serious-looking face and said, "Come with me." Then he held my hand and walked me to where he wanted to bring me. On our way, he suddenly asked, "Are you hungry?" "Not really," I replied. It seemed his face became a bit more serious that it already was. He did this thing with his lips that he always does - it's a little hard to describe, it all happens really fast... he sorta bites his bottom lip and slides his bottom lip from right to left... ah, nevermind.

image source: http://eleanorhardwick.com/

We reached the recreation lounge - a place in the school with plenty of tables and chairs, a pool table and a vending machine. A bunch of his friends were seated round a table, actually, two tables... there were quite a few of them so they had to join two tables together and pull up the chairs from the other tables to gather round. Seems like they were having a mini party of their own. Two big pots were set on the table and they were all happily eating out of the bowls in their hands. Everyone smiled as they saw us approach. I felt so shy meeting all his friends... of course I'd seen them around school, and we'd hung out before too... but it just felt so weird at that moment... him bringing me into their little party. It almost felt like I was intruding, somehow.

"Come eat!" one of his friends started ladling the contents of one of the pots into a bowl for me. No prizes for guessing right, it was... wanton soup! It turns out that Jack had kept in mind that I had a craving for wanton suppe so that afternoon, he'd suggested to his friends to cook something that day, in particular, wanton soup. The other pot contained green bean soup, another one of my favourites. He and his friends had spent the entire afternoon and evening buying all the ingredients and preparing and cooking the food in the students' kitchen.

image source: http://dearoly.blogspot.com/

Frankly, I'd almost forgotten all about my prattle those nights before. Later that night, while we were once again lying in bed, talking, he told me why they'd cooked that night... because they never did cook, you see. Then I remembered and when I realised, I was soooo touched! My heart was leaping with happiness. I think I also figured out the reason for his serious-looking face: he was worried that after eating and drinking at Rosie's mini birthday party, I wouldn't have any more appetite for the wanton soup he and his friends had prepared (for me - even though his friends didn't exactly know that! Haha!)... which was true in a sense, but I'd made myself to eat as much as I could anyway. But in retrospect, he always had a very serious face whenever he was going to surprise me. I think it's his way of covering up his embarrassment... how cute is that, isn't it? :D

I'll leave you with this song (I feel like a DJ) that I'm currently addicted to... I've been unable to stop nanana-ing the tune even at the dinner table. Yes, while eating... My mom, was surprisingly, not irritated. Perhaps I sing well! Nah, I'm just kidding... I think she's just used to my irritating her.

Angrily Happy

image source: http://www.anothermag.com/

He had just returned from a weekend trip. It was the first time we were meeting since his trip. We were at his place, in his room.

I can't remember what exactly we were talking about... But I remember feeling somewhat disappointed and a little, little bit angry. And then, to make things worse, he said something like, then you can go (leave) now. "No!" I replied indignantly. "Okay, fine, then I'll go," he said. I got pretty upset at this point. You see, we had just gotten together not too long ago... and perhaps this was still the period where you're still learning about each other, and maybe one tends to be more expectant of the other during this time. I mean, I'd really miss him when he was away during the weekend. I'd thought, maybe, he'd be more excited to see me..? And maybe, sweeter than usual 'cos he'd missed me too...?

Anyhow, he really left the room. I think I was about to cry...

image source: http://www.anothermag.com/

He suddenly reappeared with a bouquet of flowers in his hand - he had actually gone out of the room to take the flowers he had bought for me. I was dumbfounded as I had not expect such a gesture, at all. You see, he had gone away to attend an interview/give an audition for this internship he had applied for, so I hadn't expected him to get anything for me, or rather, I didn't think he would even had the time to buy anything for me. Afterall, it was a very short trip. Secondly, after purposely making me 'angry', I hadn't expected that it was his prelude to presenting me with his present. Anyhow, the flowers were beautiful. Three roses, one red, one white and one yellow, amidst a spray of many other small flowers.

"Thank you, dearrrr..." I said shyly. I had instantly regretted getting mad. I mean, well, I hadn't actually showed that I was mad, but I felt bad for feeling it anyway. He looked at me knowingly, "You were mad just then, weren't you?" he probed cheekily, his eyes smiling (Awww... how I love that cheeky, eye-smiling look of his -gushing dreamily-). "No, I wasn't!" I insisted.

Then his expression turned a little guilty and crestfallen. "I'm sorry dear," he professed. "They didn't have green (roses)." Haha.. yeah, well, my favourite colour is green. So I guess he wanted to buy the flowers in green, but there wasn't any. So that was why he had gotten the roses in all the colours the shop had available... Aww! But of course that didn't matter to me one bit. I was already very contented :D

image source: http://www.anothermag.com/

Jack then went on to confessed what he had been feeling before getting me the flowers: At the time, his really good friend had liked my best friend as well, and had gotten her flowers in his bid to woo her. On the other hand, Jack had never given me any flowers or presents prior to getting together or even prior to that day... not that it really mattered to me. I was happy enough that he'd liked me back and more than that, I was ecstatic at having my very first boyfriend. But he was worried about falling short to his friend, and feared that I'd compare him to his friend and wonder why he had not given me flowers when trying to woo me as well. Jack said, when his friend had presented the flowers to my best friend, he felt pressured and wanted to prove himself to me as well.

I was really really touched that day. Not just because of the beautiful bouquet of roses he'd gotten for me, but also because he had been so thoughtful about my feelings. It was just so... very very sweet >.<

Here's a rose, I missed you.

It was once again the time of the week that I could see my deariest. I am referring to Jack, my boyfriend at the time.

He was so eager to see me because he had been dying to tell me something...

"The other day I saw a little family reunion going on at the train station. It looked like the mother had just returned from a trip. She walked towards her husband and son, who was holding a single rose in his hand. When she reached them, she embraced her little 'un tightly and kissed him. Then, he proudly presented her with the rose," he said. "One day, after one of your travels, Jack Jr. and I will welcome your return with a single rose as well."

image source: http://aviewto.blogspot.com/

I remember the warmth that filled my heart upon listening to his recount. I was so sure then that we were going to be married, that were going to be that happy family picture he had just painted.

image source: http://aviewto.blogspot.com/

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/yvetteinufio/

Now, I'm tearing up as I recall how much he had loved me, and how excited he was in starting a family with me. The look in his eyes as he told me such a sweet little story...

image source: http://designismine.blogspot.com/

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/fluesch/

image source: http://the-violetgirl.blogspot.com/

image source: http://blackbirdandshell.blogspot.com/

Sometimes, it's still hard to swallow how things have changed so drastically.

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/45375656@N00/

Yearning A Romance

Ever since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, I haven't seem to be able to like someone. I mean, yeahhh I've been interested in 1 or 2 guys here and there... I get really excited when I talk to them. And then that's that. Nothing happens. I didn't really like them that much. I mean, I wasn't exactly crazy about them. Yeah well, I guess it's also because I kinda ended up knowing they weren't interested at all. So it's probably just my defense mechanism kicking in, rationalising that I wasn't even that interested anyway.

"No, I'm really not the least bit interested." "Yeh, right!"

Sometimes I do question what love is, or what like is anymore. I don't know how to classify what I am feeling! It's a little infuriating sometimes. I'd just rather block out all feelings because I don't want to feel stupid liking a guy who doesn't like me back. So I guess I just say I wasn't interested in them in the first place.

Well, now, the thing is, I think I'm kinda in like with this one guy. Like I said, I'm not even sure anymore... what it is that I'm feeling. But I keep thinking about him... I keep imagining what it would like to be with him. What's more stupid is, I've only met him a few times. And we don't really talk either. I mean, we did chat a little... laughed at a few jokes and we were doing that whole looking-at-each-other-and-smiling-like-we-had-a-shared-secret thing. But nowadays, who knows, right? One day the guy flirts with me, and the next, I get news that he just got together with someone or he already has a girlfriend. Now, that's when I feel really stupid about myself.

Oh please oh please... I want a guy to look at me like that.

Anyway, I just feel like I want to stop thinking about him. Because obviously, like all the others, it's not going to go anywhere. He hasn't made any other move other than what I presume to be flirting... one day I'm just going to find out that he's just got together with some other girl and that he's already with someone. Just like the rest.

Yes, go on, friends-of-his, tell him to call me!

But just the other day, a bunch of us (we've got some common friends) decided to go to the next town and hang out. Well, mostly, him and me, we'd been wanting to do that. That is, we had been trying to get the whole bunch to go to the next town to hang out. But it didn't happen because we were always lacking car space. Then, just the other day, we finally had enough car space and so we all went in two cars to the next town. Because him and me weren't exactly close friends, people didn't expect us to, err, be in the same car... so we got split up. But I caught him saying several times, "it's okay, I could go in the other car," while his friend insisted there was enough space in his car and that he needn't go in the car I was going to be in (damn you, friend-of-his!). Does that mean anything? Was he wanting to ride in the same car as me? Or was this just a figment of my imagination again, conjured up by some deep dark desire within me...?

Why is everyone else around me getting married? While I'm still single! WHY?!

"I like you."
That's right, girl! Tell 'im you like him!

"I'm seriously considering getting into a relationship with you."

I would love for a guy to make me a period mix during the time of the month
(Yeah! That's right! A period mix!)...

... and make soup for me and feed it to me while I lay crampy in bed.

Now, now, guys... There's no excuse even when the girl says she doesn't
want flowers. Rules are made for bending.

source of 'No Strings Attached' stills: http://movies.yahoo.com/photos/movie-stills/gallery/3128/no-strings-attached-stills#photo0

NB: Most of my captions are rubbish and just-for-fun. But the movie was great! I love Ashton Kutcher! And I think Natalie Portman is beautiful and that she's a great actress - loved her in Black Swan.

Farm Dance

I've always been intrigued by the memories I have of this one guy I met in high school.

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/maryjanes856/

I'm definitely the neurotic type that thinks too much so I often wonder whether he was sending me the signals or was I just reading too much into nothing? To anyone reading this: Please tell me. Please tell me I wasn't making a mountain out of a no-hill (not even a mole-hill, as the saying should go). Please tell me that my love/like/interest-signal radar is not impaired. Please tell me I'm not some desperado wanting it to be something so bad that I read nothing as something. I frequently think I am an idiot for thinking that a guy likes/d me because nothing actually comes/came out of it ('it' referring to the signals I thought he was sending me) in the end, i.e. he never actually confessed and he never tried to go after me or anything, that there I was thinking that he actually liked me and was eventually going to do something about it when in fact, he did/was not! ARGH! That's why I now always tell myself to think that no guy likes me until he actually says/does something about it.

So anyway... about this guy. Okay, see, I used to play tennis in high school and there is this viewing gallery above where the tennis courts are and I noticed that the viewing gallery had become his most recent favourite hangout... might I add, during my tennis training sessions. Well, ok. I suppose I couldn't know that, but still..! I noticed him always hovering around the viewing gallery whenever I was training there and he'd be looking down at us (or me?) training. The thing is, I never exactly dared to look up at him... I didn't want to make it seem like I had noticed him there. Of course, that doesn't stop me from being extra graceful on court, while acting uberly serious about training. The second thing was that, at the time, there were only two girls in the tennis team - we used to train with both the boys' and girls' teams together. So... I mean, you could very well say he might've been interested in the other girl. That's definitely a possibility of course. But okay, here's the more important part that drives me particularly crazy!!!!

There was this one particular physical ed. lesson that we had that our teachers found much joy in thinking that they should teach us farm dancing. Well, see, the thing is, him and me: we're from different classes. And it just so happened that our physical ed. lesson falls in the same period. Normally, we'd have our physical ed. lessons in our own classes since there were enough teachers for each of them to take a class. But that one physical ed. lesson: the teachers had decided to make it a combined class in which they'd teach us how to farm dance.

image source: http://melissaeastondesign.com/blog/

For this farm dance, we had to form an inner circle and an outer circle, with girls and boys alternating each other in other circles. During the dance, the inner circle had to dance with the outer circle and the arrangement was such that we should always partner someone of the opposite sex. But then again, not always... I think because there was a disproportionate number of boys as compared to girls, with boys > girls. Therefore, there were instances where boys would end by partnering boys. So, then, we had to learn this simple dance routine, at the end of which, we'd switch places such that the entire inner circle would turn (anti-)clockwise and the entire outer circle would turn in the opposite direction.

So anyway, he was still a certain number of people away. And because the inner and outer circles were going in opposite directions, there was no certainty that we'd actually meet: firstly, because of the disproportionate number of boys and girls and the fact that we'd always miss dancing with the person standing diagonally opposite us (I hope I'm not confusing you, but then again, I don't think the technicalities of it is very vital in comprehending the story). With that in mind, I started counting... Would I meet him..?

Then the weird part comes... Before I managed to be done with counting, he suddenly asked to change places with one of the guys. At this point, I think it is necessary to give a little background introduction about Keith (the main character in my story) - with his tall, lanky built, a hint of muscles (basically, muscles which are not the over-developed kind, which I absolutely cannot stand), a boyish (yet a little mischievous-looking) face coupled with soft-looking hair that he had used styling wax to style into soft spikes (a very trendy hairstyle then being sported by the boys in the school) in order to complete the boyish look, he was considered one of the most good-looking and popular guys in school. But he was, I must add, a tad intimidating to those who were "not on equal status as him". With this, you could probably guess that the guy changed places with him without question. But I was rather puzzled because this obviously meant there was a certain girl he was wanting to dance with and I was thinking that a guy of his stature would never do something so overt to dance with the girl he was interested in. Anyhoo, what I was more interested in was... who was this girl? Was it me? So I proceeded back to counting if we would get to partner each other, and then I realised we wouldn't! I was pretty disappointed... But then! Guess what? He, too, realised that he had somehow counted wrongly the first time round, this was evident because he actually muttered out loud (but not too loud that everyone could hear), "damn it! wrong position!" and then he asked to change places again. This time, the guy gave him a weird look before changing places with him. So.... what does that mean?!?!?!?! Could it really be me he was wanting to dance with? Well, till today, I have no clue. It could have been any other girl that he danced with during the lesson...

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/circolovizioso/

Well, anyway, we did meet. And sooooo... we were holding hands waiting for the music to start. Fate had it that this time, the player was having problems starting so we were waiting longer than usual for the music to begin. And during this time, I kept looking everywhere else except at him... pretending it was no big deal that he was my partner and that we were holding hands!!! Gawsh... my heart is racing even as I'm recounting this story. Then, he did something really weird, he looked at me. I mean, he really looked at me, bringing his face closer to mine and looking at me with a half-, I don't know, smirk? It was like, the right corner of his mouth was slanted upwards and his eyes were gleaming with a sort of playfulness and mischief. Ohmilord, I was so nervous and very very self-conscious, but I pretended to be annoyed, "What!" I exclaimed. "Nothing," he said, still with that half-smile/smirk on his face.

And then the music finally begun. And we were dancing... 'Left, step, left, step, kick, Right, step, right, step, kick.....' "Why do you keep kicking?" he asked. I didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or happy or annoyed, but I replied indignantlly, "We are supposed to kick up our leg at the end." "No, we're not!" And so we spent the next few minutes bickering at the end of which I gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Fine!" and then it was time to change partners...

image source: left,  http://www.flickr.com/photos/brittaniagardenphotoart/; right, http://www.flickr.com/photos/thecrazyguppyfish/

That was the first and last time we ever spoke. After this incident, he still always came to the viewing gallery during my tennis sessions... but shortly after, we moved our sessions to another part of the school, with no viewing gallery this time. In addition, the viewing gallery at the original courts were fairly near to the basketball courts where he would have his basketball training. But there was simply no reason for him to go to that other part of the school. And so guys, the story ends. I'm sorry for the anti-climax, but come on, I think we should be feeling even more sorry for me, no?

So anyway, tell me! Were those the signs? Was I reading it wrong? Was he even remotely interested? See, these questions have been plaguing my mind since, forever. I've never dared to tell anyone because... well, how could I ever dream that one of the most good-looking guys in school would be interested in me? It would be wayyyy too embarrassing to confide this in anyone. Moreover, my friends and I used to talk about him and his group of friends being too arrogant just because they thought there were a good-looking bunch. How could I seem to be on his side, right? Ah welll... Signs or no, nothing happened. So perhaps I should stop thinking about it.

First Love

image source: http://coutequecoute.blogspot.com

I suppose I can't really classify him as first love. First of all, I think I was too young at the time to understand what love is - I was only 5. Then again, there are many who are decades into their life who still do not understand the meaning of love. Well okay, I'm not proclaiming myself to be some love guru at this point in my life, but you get what I mean... So, moving on, the second point of the matter is that, well, the feeling wasn't mutual - You'll see what I mean ina bit but all in all, I think it's more apt to say that he was the first boy I liked.

I can't say exactly why I liked him. Perhaps it's too long ago to remember. Hmmm... I guess I could say I liked his confidence and energy.. kinda manly (haha! that actually sounds abit lame, because he, too, was 5. What can I say? He was my classmate in kindergarten.) I remember how the boys in my class used to like to play 'fight' and I must've thought he 'fought' particularly well... Just goes to show, even as a kid, I'd already pictured my perfect guy to be the chivalrous knight in shining armour. I must say though, in retrospect, (the vague memory of) his physical appearance surely does diverge largely from my current idea of a perfect guy (FYI, I really like shy-ish, boyish-looking guys.)

image source: http://www.apc.fr/

Now comes the crux of the story. I say, it must be the result of some form of invisible forces that were set to destroy the rest of my love life that an inexplicable impulsion came upon me to write him a card wherein its contents comprised my love confession for him.

"I love you because I think you are special and can fight very well."

Oh wait... actually some memory updates suddenly came flooding into my mind. There is actually an important prelude to this story that I must recount: I had, in fact, known that he liked another girl. Her name was Michelle. I absolutely can't recall how I got to know that he liked her... but he must've mentioned it or acted it somehow. So I had actually gotten this idea to write a card in Michelle's name, saying that I love him; in other words, he would think that the card came from her. I don't know why I came up with such an idea. Was I being altruistic and just had the pure desire of seeing his face light up with pleasure as he read the card "from Michelle"? Or did I think he would end up loving the messenger? Oh what a twisted mind I already had at the time! Unfortunately, things did not manage to become so complicated... only because I didn't know how to spell 'Michelle'!!! I still have the vivid memory of asking Michelle how to spell her name. She had refused and till now, I recall clearly what I was thinking at the time, "Why doesn't she want to tell me how to spell her name? Does she know what I'm about to do?" Nevertheless, I went home, I wrote the said card, and then spent a great deal of time pondering how I should sign off. In the end, I decided to go with my own name.

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/robayre

The next day came, I was very nervous. But I went up to him, bearing the card which had been so nicely enclosed in an envelop with his name on it, albeit spelt very wrongly, "Lookus". (It's supposed to be Lucas, in case you couldn't tell.) And I passed it to him very nonchalently: as if it wasn't enclosed with a love confession, as if it was something I'd just picked up from the floor and realised that it was his and that I was just returning it to him.

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/21133841@N03/

I held out the card. He looked at it with disgust and said he didn't want it and walked away.

What happened in between... I have no recollection. It must've been so traumatising that I repressed those memories, haha! The next scene I remember... the card was lying on the floor (don't ask me... I really don't know how it ended up there.) and he picked it up, opened it and read it. My heart raced, whether with joy or anticipation, I'm not sure but it was sure short-lived because next, he threw the card on the floor and reiterated, "I don't want it." I actually remember not feeling sad. Perhaps it was expected, or maybe I'd just learnt from a young age, how to repress unwanted feelings.

image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/karo_design/

Then again, this incident could very well explain why I'm so godawful at expressing my liking towards any guy I am interested in. In fact, the more I liked a guy, the more I acted like I was ignoring him. You could say I'm playing hard to get... but maybe I'm just plain scared? I'd say Freud, whom I learned about in my Psychology 101 class last year, would very well agree with me.