Sneaky Little Thing

So. Here's the thing I don't get: men sneaking around behind their partner's backs. And I'm not talking about men sneaking around to sleep with other women. Because that's just plain cheating in anyone's books, even if the relationship is as open as Paris Hilton's legs.

I mean things like smoking behind your partner's back, lying about going for a drink with your close friends of the opposite sex (and I'm not talking about 'special friends'), telling her you're going for a 'work function' when you're really going to the strip club with the boys. That kind of sneaking around.

I remember having a conversation with Justin on this topic quite awhile ago. It went something along these lines.

"Why do some men feel that they have to sneak around behind their girlfriends' backs, or lie about something that they've done?"

"Because sometimes, it's better for you not to know. And as much as they say 'honesty is the best policy', you women don't appreciate it when we tell you the truth. We still get into deep shit for it. If a woman told a man about something he had done, he would appreciate her honesty. Women get pissed if you tell them. And they get pissed if you don't. So might as well not tell her."

"Well, would you tell me if you did something?"

"Would you want to know?"

"Of course I would want to know."

"What if you can't handle the truth?"

"Then it's probably something you shouldn't have done in the first place."
"Good point."

I don't think some people realise the simple truth. Sneaking is cheating. If you're hiding something, you're probably hiding it for a reason. You'll probably say, you're protecting her by not telling her, but really, you're just protecting your own balls. Although, in situations like this, I'd say you don't have any, or probably don't deserve to have any.

I'm not saying you should have your balls (I seem to be liking that word today) chained to your woman, unless bondage is your thing. In which case, go all out. But, have enough respect for her to not sneak around behind her back. Aren't relationships about compromise? Of course, when a woman says "Let's compromise", she really means, "It's my way, or you can join the Rascal Flatts on the highway." Jokes aside, if it's something that can't be compromised, then she probably has a good reason for it. Unless she's as reasonable as Naomi Campbell on cocaine, in which case, you should just make your life easier and dump her ass anyway.

If you respect her and care enough about her feelings, whatever it is you're sneaking around for probably isn't worth risking the relationship. So before you embark on your misadventures, just think, is one night of fun worth two weeks of hell? You'd be lucky if it only lasted two weeks, really. The silent treatment, plate-throwing, death stares, abrupt outbursts of emotions, knife-sharpening. And then you wonder why you've got the runs after eating that scrumptious stew she just made for you.

Sure, we women do our fair share of sneaking around. We don't tell you how much we REALLY spent shopping online at Asos. Or that we weren't really just having coffee, but come on, Sass & Bide clearance sale? Hellooooo? See. The difference with our sneaking around is, it just breaks the bank. Not a relationship. Well, unless we max out all your credit cards, and you find that your savings account went from five zeros to one because we just haaaad to have that Hermés Birkin bag. That would break any normal middle-income relationship.

The topic of strip clubs came up in conversation with a couple of girl friends. They said they don't mind their partners going to the strip club. I was surprised and intrigued. I'm selfish like that. My man belongs to me, his eyes belong on me, and his ermm... belongs in me. If I wanted to share, I'd make him a gigolo and take 30%.

So I asked, "How is it that you don't mind your men going to the strip clubs?" They said their men belong to the small minority who don't see the point in it. That's not to say that they don't like it. They're just not that keen on it.

Which got me thinking. It's true. I didn't mind the idea of my exes going to the strip club, because I knew it just wasn't really their thing. One of the girls then quipped, "Actually, that's true. I didn't like my ex going to the strip club because he was the type who liked it."

And I realised, it's not about the strip club, it's about the intentions. Kind of like how you wouldn't mind giving your wife your credit card if you knew she hates shopping, but you wouldn't let her hold it for a second if she was anything like, well, me.

Sadly, I know a few guys who sneak out to the strip club without the knowledge of their partners. Truthfully, I find it grotesquely disrespectful. Not because they're going to the strip club, but because they're doing it with the knowledge that it would upset and hurt their partner. That's basically saying, "You are the sun, the moon, the light of my life, but naked chicks are more important to me than you, my love."

Bottom line. Russell Peter's got the right idea. "Be a man. Do the right thing." If you're sneakin', you're cheatin'.

Public Love

Why is it that it's acceptable to publicly display anger, hate, disappointment, dissent, and other similar emotions, yet some find it inappropriate to publicly display love? Correction: romantic love. And when I say publicly declare, in this context, I mean your choice of social media weapons; Facebook, Twitter, Bebo, MySpace, Friendster (is that still going?), you get the picture.

It's cute to publicly declare love for your niece / nephew / godson / goddaughter / little cousin / any other being who doesn't yet know what a penis can really do.

It's heartwarming to publicly declare love for your grandparents / parents / aunts / uncles / other family members who will fill up the seats at your wedding, regardless of whether you want them there or not.

It's sweet to publicly declare love for your immediate family and close friends.

It's nauseating to publicly declare love for your other half. The exception here is if you just got engaged, married or are speaking at your wedding itself.

Is romantic love something we should all hide, like underwear, only to be revealed behind closed doors? Is love purer if kept between two people, undiluted by the perception of others? I certainly don't think so. Perhaps, it is because it makes others feel excluded, that they cannot or should not comment on your declaration of love. Hence, it's deemed an anti-social action in social media. I'm just trying to dissect the possibilities here.

The hidden romantic in me believes that love is something that should be celebrated, and if you are lucky enough to have found it, then hell, why not shout about it? You gloat shamelessly when your team puts a ball in the net. So why not gloat shamelessly about your happiness?

Because before you found this happiness, you bet your ass you went through a lot of shit to get there. The heartbreaks, tears, unsent letters you wrote but didn't have the guts to send, the jealousy, the developments of stalking skills equivalent of a PI, the bi-polar moments of "I hate you, fucktard!" to "Why did you leave me?", the "Let's just be friends. It's not you, it's me. No, wait. It's you, not me. Haha." Okay, I'm going off tangent here. That didn't really happen. I'm just sayin'...

So why do we sometimes feel the impulse to publish love notes on Facebook? It's simple.

When a guy does it, to put it simply, he's saying, "I want the world to know I am yours and I don't mind other women knowing."

When a girl does it, to put it simply, she's saying, "I want the world to know you are mine, and mine only. Stay away bitches."

Okay. So maybe all that 'let's celebrate love' was just bullshit. No, but seriously. It's just another way to make your other half feel appreciated and loved, and being claimed under their 'territory' is like a signboard that says, "You belong here." And that's why we search the world over for that perfect partner, no? That sense of belonging, with the person we can look at and feel like you're home.

Menstrual Monday

Why do people find the idea of growing old together a romantic notion?

If you really sit down to think about it, it's like having bare-butt sex on the beach. The idea of it sends thrills down your spine. But the practicality of the situation is a far cry from what you visualise in your head. No matter how careful you are about it, sand has this magical ability to get into all the places it doesn't belong. When you're shitting sand, you'll wonder what on earth possessed you into doing it in the first place. (I'm simply describing what I imagine it to be like, but of course, now that I've said that, you're going to be even more convinced I'm speaking from experience.)

If you didn't get my elusive metaphor (okay, I kind of suck at those), sex on the beach represents the union (no shit), and sand represents all the little problems that eventually get under your skin and turn out to be one irritating level of hell.

But romanticism has no place in a world of ration and logic. And so, we continue to ignore the reality of marriage and delude ourselves into believing in that goddamned concept of 'happily ever after'. Thanks, Disney. Really. You are possibly the cause of half the divorces in this world. I mean, how will men ever live up to my expectations of a chivalrous prince on his white horse (in this case, a white Fairlady for me), fighting dragons to save me, and all trials and tribulations ending when the princess says, "I do." Then it's all rainbows and talking animals celebrating. Okay. That part, I can get over.

Thinking about it now, I guess now I know why fairy tales all end when the protagonist couple gets married. No one wants to know what happens after that. A wrinkly old princess croaking, "Who is that?" and her senile old prince - hard of hearing - shouting "FOR THE LAST TIME, YES, YOU'RE AS FAT AS YOUR MOTHER WAS!" And then, the fight started.


Having said all that, I still remain a romantic at heart. So when Justin says things like, "I want to grow old with you", the 27 year old in me disappears, leaving a giggly schoolgirl still caught up in fairy tales going, "Awww." Melt. Giggle. Blush. All that disgusting range of emotions that make people want to reach for a bucket and empty their lunch into. Because, deep down, I still hope that fairy tales weren't entirely made up. And I am now a firm believer in 'The One'.

the stag night trap

most men see their stag night as their last taste of freedom before getting married. kind of like a man on death penalty getting his last wish. personally, i think most men believe it's a get-out-of-jail-free card to cheat.

this goes back to my post about 'the sum of men and alcohol'. give a man a load of booze, get his testosterone raging, throw some strippers / hookers into the picture and you can imagine what's likely to happen. men think we're unreasonable when we say we don't approve of strippers in the picture. i quote a friend, "well, you've already paid for their services. might as well use them! there are only two men they will screw. the one who knows the strippers, and the groom-to-be." and you wonder why women have no faith in men.

it's not so much the fact that there are naked women shoving their tits in your face, rubbing their vajayjays in your face and putting your hands on their bodies. okay, i lie. it kind of is. but what is more disturbing are the possibilities of things going beyond that. this is when 'bros' make a sacred pact to never reveal anything to the hen and her counterparts.

the only reason men ever tell their soon-to-be wives they can go wild and have as much fun as they want, is because they want the ticket to do the same. only difference is, men are more likely to go way over the line. chances are, a woman's 'wild night out' probably involves a male stripper dressed unconvincingly as a police officer and swinging his schlong in her face (which, trust me, does not quite evoke the same response as tits in a man's face) and running around town being picked up by random men. and that's really about it.

a little fun doesn't hurt, and we understand that. hell, we aren't going to be absolute angels on our hen's night either. but don't forget, boys. while you're enjoying another woman's body, you're disrespecting the woman you have asked to put up with you for the rest of her life. and when you're suffering from erectile dysfunction, she's the one who will still be there for you (you'd hope, anyway).

my advice? don't start a marriage built on a lie. and don't do anything you'd have to lie about. if you do, don't be stupid enough to go on 'Stag: A Test of Love".

side note: i'm really not on a man-attacking rampage, though it might seem like it. you can blame Dexter for this post. the scene of his stag night got me thinking and brought out the raging feminist in me.

the sum of men and alcohol

maths has never been my forte, as most would know. however, i am fairly certain this is one equation i  can formulate.

men + alcohol = horny and stupid

this makes a very dangerous combination, indeed. especially when they claim loss of memory and ignorance. who's to say they have not been out traipsing around with night tramps, only to conveniently forget?

i had a friend who was told by The Tramp's best friend, that her beau had made-out with said tramp. he insisted he had done no such thing. so confident was he, that he called up The Tramp and put her on speakerphone to clarify the situation. unfortunately for him, The Tramp merely confirmed that in his drunken state, they did in fact, make-out. true story.

my argument is, sure you can claim memory loss. with the amount of alcohol you stupidly consume, there's bound to be some brain damage going on. however, no amount of arguing could possibly justify your actions for this one fact: even in your drunken stupor, you know exactly what your doing.

so don't you say, "if i can't remember, it doesn't count." it sure as hell does, buddy, because we'll remember for the rest of our waking lives, and we'll make sure you don't forget it either.

someone once said to me, the reason why he drinks til he's wasted in his girlfriend's absence, was to ensure he went past the stage of 'tipsy & horny', straight to 'i-can't-get-it-up-even-if-i-wanted-to'. on some strange level, that is somewhat endearing. unfortunately, that won't stop you from tongue raping a willing volunteer should the opportunity arise.

they say a drunk man is an honest man. they forget to mention, they also become prone to acts of stupidity like say, urinating on post boxes in broad daylight. it seemed like a great idea at the time, until they got arrested. again, this is a true story. i have great friends.

put that stupidity with the horny factor in their intoxicated state, and you get men using their penises as a GPS. and trust me, this GPS isn't leading the way back home. lesson to be learned? nothing good comes out of being stupid and horny. so drink less, wank more.

if only maths in school was this interesting. i would have paid a lot more attention.

what happens now?

"do you really know the person you're sleeping with?" carrie bradshaw posed this question.

what happens when the person you thought you knew inside out, suddenly shows a side of them that makes you take a step back and realise, you don't know them as well as you thought?

what happens when the person you've been building your dreams/future with, becomes the person who tears them apart?

what happens when you realise this person has become your best friend, confidante, your entire world, and you have no one else to turn to? your friends are his friends. your home is his home. your safe place is him.

what happens when you realise you have crossed way over your side and you've lost your way back? it becomes a one-sided relationship.

so what happens when doubt begins to eat inside of you and you wonder if you've given up far too much to let go now, and yet, you wonder if you should?

and yet, all he can do is get angry when you raise your issue.

so what happens now?

you repress your emotions and stay. because if you leave, you know he won't hurt as much as you will.

dead romance & design wonders

why do i feel like we're drifting apart although everything is still the same?

perhaps it is because he no longer has 'that look' as often as he used to. or is it because of the lack of cuddles that used to make me feel so appreciated? it could also be the signs of him wanting to be single every now and then. and certainly no more whispers of sweet nothings.

i know, it's almost inevitable for all this to happen as a relationship progresses towards the stale end of the scale, but i don't like it and i refuse to accept it. just like how i refuse to accept that my metabolism is starting to slow down and i need to start exercising.

lesson number one on marriage:
his mum once said to me (in her cute nyonya accent), "marriage is not about love love thing. it is about keeping each other company until you're old. even though we fight everyday about small small things, i know he is a good person."

but the thing is, i WANT that "love love thing". i want it to be the forever, ever ever (ala outkast) thing. who doesn't?

it is because of this, i don't think i'm very good with keeping long relationships. i refuse to grow stale. i want passion throughout, not obligations. perhaps, i really am going to be an old spinster with 14 cats as someone once told me.

oh joy.
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i love looking at interiors. here's some i drool over.

BATHROOM






BEDROOM


love the colour scheme of this bedroom. contemporary shabby chic with a vintage feel.


here's a reason to never get out of bed. a HD plasma tv embedded into your bed. now all you need is a bell to call for food!



another reason to sleep all day. in your very own rocking bed!! i'm so deep in love with this bed.



simple yet curvy in the right places.

crossroads

i find myself in an unfavourable situation. i've gone on a full ride of emotions - from being pissed to no end, to feeling numb and being unable to care anymore.

and yet, i am unwilling to act upon it simply because it would be rather inconvenient.

part of me wants to stay. but part of me says, there's no point. i am expecting more than i can be given. there is no future here. it is continuing to walk on a road with a dead end, hoping that you are mistaken.

priorities. everyone has a different list. unfortunately, i know i'm not up there on that list.

despite knowing all that, i'm still here. afraid that if i let go, everything else will crumble all around me and i'm just not ready to deal with that.

emo-nya. and i'm not even PMSing.

it's not helping that my stomach is being a bitch and my bowels are threatening to let loose an avalanche. damn steamboat.

u know that feeling where you were pissed off for so many little reasons, and now you can't remember why you're pissed? that's where i am. i'm just over it. tired of being angry and disappointed.

perhaps i shall try and get some sleep.

awaken the morning grouch

why bother asking someone if everything is alright when you'd rather not talk about it? you ask me what's the problem. i tell you. all you do is keep quiet and i wonder if you're even thinking about what i've said. or do your thoughts simply wander off into the mundane so you can avoid the issue?

even worse. sometimes you just shrug it off and make a joke out of it, hoping it will divert my thoughts so we won't have to face the issue. how mature.

as long as YOU are happy, everything is fine. that's selfish love. you love, to be loved back. you love, to feel good. you love, temporarily. sometimes i think, it's better to have no love than selfish love.

prove me wrong.

the lady joiner is here

i have decided to embrace my heritage whole-heartedly. okay... it's only quarter of my heritage but everyone knows i'm a pretty lousy chinese anyway. i'm still working on that part.

you want lady joiner? lady joiner can bring a friend too. you take two, we give you special price. you want two dollar sucky sucky? then go to the supermarket and buy a packet of straws. i charge premium price.

you want massage? i give you very good price. happy ending - charge extra.

time for lady joiner to get a shower. a smelly lady joiner gets no business.

angry sex

apparently it's amazing. i won't say who told me that. but apparently it's amazing. and i believe it.

imagine a torrent of anger, a whirlwind of emotions - rage, hurt, pain, betrayal, love, resentment - all whipped up together. and then lust comes in. and while you're screaming at him about how much of a miserable piece of shit he is, he grabs you and shoves you against the wall.

and... you can imagine the rest.

that WOULD be abit of fun, i reckon. alas, it is something i will probably never experience in my menial life because i lack the passion and emotion that complements that sort of situation.

i don't rage. i don't yell. i don't scream. i just seethe. silently. if i had angry sex, it'd be silent angry sex. it'd be like having sex in a graveyard. weird.