Good Day

For some reason, I live most of my relationships thinking that the guys never like me as much as I like them, with perhaps the exception of Ethan. Which by the way has already booked a flight down to Singapore sometime in mid-January. He got tired of freezing his ass off in Europe, and I wanted to go to the Manson concert in Bangkok with someone cool, that I can tolerate and manipulate. I know that sounds completely evil, but the truth is, in order for me to feel really comfortable with anyone, I’ve got to be able to know that they will give in to me when I really want it, whatever ‘it’ may possibly be. But yet, they cannot be too easily controlled either, wimps are for taking advantage of, not loving. My time is too precious though, to waste on taking advantage of other people. Mostly because people who can be taken advantage of have nothing of worth to take from. And yes, all women are scheming, manipulative bitches to try their best to use their sex to attain their means, but what a girl’s gotta do in an inequitably gender stratified society?

I lost a rather expensive personal belonging of Dr. Seuss, and perhaps he was annoyed for a little while, but he said he’d let me off, for a price. I had to meet him for coffee, because he’d really missed me while I was in Sarawak. I’d been running slightly late for the date, and thought that he’d be annoyed (along with having lost his things), and was quite surprised to find a very cheerful, much delighted greeting when he’s arrived. (He had decided to get some shopping done while I waited at the café, because I was simply going to be too late). Apparently, I light a spark in him the moment he sees me; I vaguely remember the feeling from my first boyfriend, where my heart would lurch with fondness every time I saw him, even if it was every day. It has been very long since I felt that way. I feel it, certainly, here and there on occasion, but they are far milder sensations. With Martine, I feel something else altogether, something like… possession.

It was a most delightful afternoon, and we were seated in a sheltered courtyard roofed with a translucent material held by a wooden lattice, through which the silhouettes of fallen leaves could be seen. And through which the sun-light was dissipated. Along with the light drizzle that had been going on for most of the afternoon, it felt like three hours of dawn. And every time we kissed, there were bells in the background, and at this I’m not being cheesy. As much of a cheesy coincidence as it was, there indeed were the ringing of bells every time we kissed –which is to say three times, since the bells ring once ever hour.

He looked quite good today, and something sparkled in his eyes, I told him so and he said it was just one of the effects that I produced. We talked a little about my future, and I told him I was getting out of the country to continue my course of study. He asked me if there wasn’t a local alternative, and I told him I was just sick of living here. But most of all, I was sick of living with my parents. He said I needed an apartment, and started talking like he was going to get me one. (In my opinion, with the rates he’s paying for hotel rooms, he might as well get me an apartment). Of course I looked at him with incredulity and asked if he was saying what I was thinking.

‘I didn’t say I’d get you an apartment, I just said you should get yourself one.’
‘Indeed I should, and the only way is to find an excuse to move out of the country so my dad will pay for it.’
‘How much is an apartment around here anyway?’
‘Oh, I’m guessing for someone with needs a frugal as mine –like say, 800 sq feet- perhaps slightly over 1k, for a place in a good location.-‘
‘That’s pretty sensible.’

Then he goes on to talk about how he’d love to be a patron for my art and some of the things I like to do. All very delightfully fascinating, but while I would like to believe he isn’t kidding, I hate expecting things from anyone. Especially in pseudo-romantic relationships where everything hangs on so fine a line. They can like you now, but as with all romances, grow tedious soon enough.

Before he left however, he told me to take care of the check, and slipped a hundred into my purse. Telling me to have a great dinner with my friends and buy the canvas for which was the other reason I’d come down to town this afternoon.

Ethan then called me later in the day to say that he’d booked a flight into Singapore mid next month, and a flight out late in February. I was to purchase the Manson tickets and the flights to Bangkok. It was then it dawned upon me that, oh goodness how has time flown. I can’t believe we’re finally going to meet again. Truth is, I’ve actually grown quite attached to him, or at least to our little romance, and there’s no one else I feel so comfortable with. Besides, he’s the only one that ever bothered to attempt to make things work for this long, everyone else had a projection of their own lives in the next year, and it didn’t have me in it. And I didn’t have them in it either, so they all naturally had to die out to a ‘we’re-still-friends’ situation. Which is good in its own way, I’m sure.

***

This is the painting I've just completed. I'm not too fond of it, but I know I've got alot of room for improvment and practice so that's a consolation; as opposed to beliving I simply have no talent. If you feel otherwise, it's not in your place to tell me: there are reasons why I do not leave a comment function. Because some people are just nasty. Unless you can do better, you've no right to criticize, but considerate personal opinions are welcomed :)




xoxox