Diary Lies

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?