Pregnant pause II

If there is anything I want to tell you, it is to save your tears for someone more deserving; someone who was standing mere metres away from where you were. That is where your heart should break for and your eyes to shed tears for. Not me. Perhaps never in a million years.

Maybe a younger version of me would have got all choked up and emotional. I was glad I didn’t this time because it wouldn’t be appropriate. I don’t want to express my emotions so openly anymore. The wall must remain out-of-bounds from prying eyes with devious intents.

What I treasure now is the fate that has brought us together. I think I can feel the beat of your heart. Unfortunately, there is no way I can let you feel mine, because too much is at stake.


To the girl in the lift the other day,

Firstly, we’re in the Internet age, when alluring images of naked women are one or two clicks away.

Secondly, I was looking out of the windows on the lift doors, trying to find out which was the level I parked the car. I didn’t get the answer in the end which is why I was looking out so intently.

Thirdly, there are more women in public spaces, showing way, way, way more of their chest than you did. Fourthly, there would be proportionately more of them with “assets” that are easily a few cups bigger than the ones you own on your chest.

Fifthly, I have a younger sister and I would not hesitate to dig the eyes out of an ogler if he (or she) were to stare way too hard at her chest. Or to punch the living daylights out of that lecherous bugger.

Sixthly, you were with your parents. Why would I be that dumb enough to take the chance?

Just to be clear, I barely took notice of whatever you have on your chest. Therefore, it is extremely disturbing to me that you were thinking way, way, way too much than you really should, especially when you were hurriedly buttoning up your blouse. I classify this as extreme paranoia.



Amidst the fanfare, the clinks of wine glasses and the sea of red, he pulled them aside.

Away from the earshot of his mate, whom mere minutes ago became his wife legally, he whispered, “Suddenly, every woman I see looks prettier leh.”

Then, the cheeky grin flashed on their faces. Meanwhile, the only woman wearing in a wedding gown in the room was kneeling down and talking to her wheelchair bound father. Her mother was looking on, possibly with pride and relief that her daughter finally found a mate.

“When are you all going to Shenzhen for some fun ah? I cannot do it here anymore,” the groom’s eyes were already pleading with them.

* based on a true incident

Pregnant pause

It isn’t raining anymore. The skies are no longer gray. And that the monochrome has faded a little. The colours have returned. For how much longer? Admittedly, I don’t know.

But those still do not cast away the doubts. They still remain. Sometimes they grow bigger than they really should. It’s the mixed signals or that it could be the need to play hard to get.

Changes are coming, much like the winter. Leaving the abode of 30 years to a new place can cause unwanted ripples that prick the emotions and gnaw away at the need for stability. When all else fails, there is only hope to cling onto, of and for a better future.

The question remains. Where does she fit in all of these? And where does she see herself fitting in all of these? It’s no longer about making space and time; it’s now all about trying to figure out how to merge our collective futures and as individuals together.

But we’re not there yet. She might have found it disconcerting that all I’ve dropped so far were hints. It’s not about the temptation to skirt the issue for as long as possible, but more of trying to find a way to blurt out the question. Of course, this is notwithstanding whether or not He approves.

This would effectively eradicate any growing and lingering doubts, moving things up another level. It’s a strange and new experience. It’s like opening a box of gifts for the very first time. It’s me moving into new and hitherto unexplored territories.

I am missing her.

I am fitting her into my picture of a holiday whenever I need to deal with the wanderlust.

And after thirty odd and barren years, I am finally learning about when to hold back and when to enter any new phase.