Diary Lies

Dear Diary

My first one night stand in Shanghai. It happened two nights ago.

It had a potential to be another affair but I guess he decided not to. "I'll call you." he said. But he didn't. Funny thing was, I also said to him "I'll email you" and the first thing I did when he walked out the room was to tear the piece of paper he noted down his contact details.

Perhaps we were just fulfilling what a good fling should do. Be polite. And leave.

I kind of liked him. A short, cute English man, in his mid-thirty but still had this boyish charm. And a master in going down on a woman. i.e. Me.

The last one night stand I had before this, was in Guangzhou. A short, cute Italian man, also in his mid-thirty. And a very fit body that seemed to last forever.

They came passing my life for a few hours and they disappeared. I wouldn't even bother to nickname them. I could hardly remember their faces.

They were just one of these faces. These faces that blurred together. Very vague. Hardly memorable. Just like the pleasure they gave me.

Pleasure, I couldn’t even be sure that I had receive any.

Dear Diary

Tomorrow at this time I will be in A’s city. I am flying out from Hong Kong just so I can be with him for less than 24 hours.

Crazy isn’t it. Yes. It is.

I don’t know what to expect for our rendezvous. I suspect it will be a proper closure for me, or at least I hope it will be. I can’t keep on putting myself on hold for this silly crush. This infatuation has lasted for too long.

“I’ll see you at the airport.” He said, “Can’t wait.”

Although this message came only after a few pathetic days’ wait, it put a smile on my face.

So I am flying there. I am going to leave my husband in the morning when he will be still in bed. I am not even going to give him a kiss goodbye. Instead I will fly to another man who is equally not in love with me .

Crazy. Isn’t it?

Dear Diary

C flew over to Hong Kong to spend some time with me. My dearest husband. The man I chose to spend the rest of my life with.

I went to the airport straight after a dinner with clients. Waited for him in the airport, I had a slim hope that by seeing him I would get some normality back. Victim of wishful thinking, I was. Because any expectation would always lead to some disappointments.

I felt even lonelier, with C right next to me. He was within reach but he was an ocean apart from me.

I looked at him, this beautifully well-mannered man with a gorgeous chiseled face. The man I should desire but I am no longer. And it’s because, he no longer desires me.

In C’s eyes I am not a woman. Not an attractive woman anyway. He does not look at me and instantly wants to grab me for a kiss. He is too familiar with my body, thin or curve, he has been through all those stages with me. When I am fully made up I am as invisible as when I am naked in front of him.

I turn heads when I walk on the street. I attract people’s second glance. I just don’t get these attentions from C.

It’s disappointed that I could only obtain certain confidence as a woman through other people, other people than my husband.

Lying down on the king size bed in the hotel suite with C next to me, I cried myself asleep. I fell into this dark and gloomy space, drifting.

And that’s when I realised my normality was actually an agony.

Dear Diary

F called me two nights in the row. He sent me short messages from his mobile while playing Golf with his clients. He told me that he was, thinking about me.

I guess we are entering into a new territory.

“So you want to be chased?” on the phone he asked, “You want to be a princess?”

That’s when we started to talk about the Cinderella story.

Frankly I don’t believe it. I don’t want to be a Cinderella and I will never want to be one.

I often wonder what happened between Cinderella and the Prince.

What could they have in common? What could Cinderella talk about with the Prince? That a few drops of lavender with a pinch of lemon in the water would clean the stove stains really well?

I must admit at one stage I wanted to be taken care of financially. That was when I worked day and night just to support my university studies. When I finally finished my degrees I thought my life was going to change. But it didn’t. I still worked part-time at the same place doing the same thing. I came to the end of the tunnel and I couldn’t see the light. All I had, I thought, was my youth.

And I almost, almost, sold myself.

“I want to be treated like a princess. But not Cinderella.” I said.

After all these years I have acquired the lifestyle I’ve always wanted through my own effort. I no longer need anyone to spread some mercy. Comfortable and content with my little achievement, I do not need a prince to save me from anything.

That night when F walked me back to the hotel in Tokyo, he casually and jokingly said: “Why don’t you sell me your time? I will send you a two year contract and specify the services required.”

He named a price before he said goodbye. “Think about it. What do you want?”

What do I want? I don’t know what I want but I do know what I don’t want.

I whispered into F’s ear: “I am not a business.”

“ Don’t run me like a business.”

Dear Diary

Two days have passed and my phone has been silent. Just when I had nearly given up hope on a call from A, the phone rang.

my phone had been silent. Just when I thought I could give up hope on receiving A’s call, the phone rang.

“Hey, it’s me.” He said, “How are you?”

How am I? I wanted to say “No I am not fine. I am miserable. I am in a terrible state because I am thinking of you all the time.” But I didn’t say it. Instead, I answered as if I couldn’t care less: “I am fine. You?”

He was unavailable for two days because he had to have a small operation, he said. He got injured in one of the games and now the games were over he needed to fix those problems.

I know about his injury. I also know about why he was unavailable.

A is married. With children.

I know. I googled him.

It was not difficult at all to find information about him. A few keywords combined with the name of his team, A turned into pages of Google Search. This man even has his own wikipedia page.

And this man said, “I have a crush on you.”

I wondered if it was because of his fame that made me wanted to be with him. No it cannot be. Because I had no idea about him before he entered into my life, that faithful 9 hours.

It was his whispers, his beautiful smiles, his hands that grabbed me closer to him, his lips, the way he kissed; it was…it was because on that day when we were naked in front of each other he somehow left a mark on me without penetrating me.

We talked very briefly before he hung up the phone. “Alright, I gotta go.” He said, “I miss you.”

There. He’s done it again.

Dear Dairy

A said he would call me today. Of course he didn’t. This is what happened when you start falling for someone.

I sense this is bigger than a crush. And I let it happen. Deliberately.

I have been thinking about him, you know, since that morning he left my hotel room. Perhaps it was like an episode that I didn’t get to see the ending that I kept on thinking about it. Or perhaps it’s because I have not felt my heart filling with such a bittersweet for a long, long, long time.

When was the last time I felt it? It was with E. And that was, a long time ago.

No A is not E. He cannot be. E’s face has been replaced by D. I have finally overcome my shadow. I am no longer a lingering ghost in my past. Or am I?

Am I searching for the slightest resemblance of E from all the men I’ve been with?

Am I actually looking for him knowing I would never, ever, ever, be with him again?