An American Girl in Paris
My horoscope reading is right. I'll be experiencing some greater things to come.
For the first time since my rendezvous was published here, today I have nothing to share about any tete-a-tete. Not a short burst. Nor a getaway. Not even a quickie. And where I would once feel inadequate and incomplete, having not shagged the next nearest cutie or my regular buddies, today I feel like I had just been reborn. Minus the sluttish connotations, and hangovers.
For no apparent reason or rhyme, I was able to shift my focus and concentrate instead on doing other things. Thoughts of getting lucky did cross my mind, but they left soon after, and I did not bother to give chase. Even Saturday night out with the boys did not stir the urges. Had they lay dormant? Suddenly sneaked out on me while I wasn't looking?
I even managed to study my notes for the upcoming exams on Saturday, went to CGH to visit a close teammate who was warded for dengue fever, then rushed down to Geylang to meet up with a long time acquaintance who I had not seen for a year (we scoured the bazaar and everywhere else for a baju kurong he likes before settling down for late dinner), before finally taking a cab down to Happy where I spend the rest of the night with my close friends. And for once, I did not reject the idea of us, Westies, going home in the same cab. Previously I would have graciously allowed them to board the cab first, while I stayed behind and altered my destination.
Once home, I did not sleep a wink. Somehow I was still alert. Ate my pre-dawn meal with my family, surfed a little bit, before getting ready to go out again for my dragonboat training. You may think the whole time would have been taxing or tiring, but I felt none of the tiredness I would usually associate my Sunday with, after a Saturday shag.
During training, I rowed with the guy who rides his Baby Monster. :)
After training, instead of taking the train from City Hall to go home, I got myself into some retail therapy. It did nothing for the funds which I had intended to save up. But it did increase my wardrobe choices. And shopping alone can be relaxing.
By the time I finally got home, it was late, and I had more studying to do.
The evening ended with me watching Sex and The City Season Six Episode 20 - An American Girl in Paris. About how, like Carrie, I too want the person inside me to come out. To admit to myself, and the world that what I want is Love. A love that is all encompassing. A love that consumed you. A love so strong that life will not be okay if one doesn't have the other.
And then it happened.
Slowly at first, gradually I convulsed into a ball on the chair I was sitting on. Before I know it, I was in tears, by the time all four friends finally got what they've always wanted since the 1st Episode. True Love.
I cried, for the friends whom I will never have the way Carrie has.
I cried, for the sex which Samantha finally gave up due to her breast cancer, but found back with the guy finally worthy of her true love.
I cried, for the baby that Charlotte always wanted but could not conceive, and which finally came through adoption.
I cried, for Miranda's new found meaning of love towards Steve's senile mum, and how she finally admitted her true feelings for Steve.
I cried, for Carrie's reunion with Mr. Big after more than 6 years of mistakes, after mistakes made, done, forgotten and reopened.
But most of all, I cried for the one true love, which I once felt, had, and fervently wished I still have.
For the first time since my rendezvous was published here, today I have nothing to share about any tete-a-tete. Not a short burst. Nor a getaway. Not even a quickie. And where I would once feel inadequate and incomplete, having not shagged the next nearest cutie or my regular buddies, today I feel like I had just been reborn. Minus the sluttish connotations, and hangovers.
For no apparent reason or rhyme, I was able to shift my focus and concentrate instead on doing other things. Thoughts of getting lucky did cross my mind, but they left soon after, and I did not bother to give chase. Even Saturday night out with the boys did not stir the urges. Had they lay dormant? Suddenly sneaked out on me while I wasn't looking?
I even managed to study my notes for the upcoming exams on Saturday, went to CGH to visit a close teammate who was warded for dengue fever, then rushed down to Geylang to meet up with a long time acquaintance who I had not seen for a year (we scoured the bazaar and everywhere else for a baju kurong he likes before settling down for late dinner), before finally taking a cab down to Happy where I spend the rest of the night with my close friends. And for once, I did not reject the idea of us, Westies, going home in the same cab. Previously I would have graciously allowed them to board the cab first, while I stayed behind and altered my destination.
Once home, I did not sleep a wink. Somehow I was still alert. Ate my pre-dawn meal with my family, surfed a little bit, before getting ready to go out again for my dragonboat training. You may think the whole time would have been taxing or tiring, but I felt none of the tiredness I would usually associate my Sunday with, after a Saturday shag.
During training, I rowed with the guy who rides his Baby Monster. :)
After training, instead of taking the train from City Hall to go home, I got myself into some retail therapy. It did nothing for the funds which I had intended to save up. But it did increase my wardrobe choices. And shopping alone can be relaxing.
By the time I finally got home, it was late, and I had more studying to do.
The evening ended with me watching Sex and The City Season Six Episode 20 - An American Girl in Paris. About how, like Carrie, I too want the person inside me to come out. To admit to myself, and the world that what I want is Love. A love that is all encompassing. A love that consumed you. A love so strong that life will not be okay if one doesn't have the other.
And then it happened.
Slowly at first, gradually I convulsed into a ball on the chair I was sitting on. Before I know it, I was in tears, by the time all four friends finally got what they've always wanted since the 1st Episode. True Love.
I cried, for the friends whom I will never have the way Carrie has.
I cried, for the sex which Samantha finally gave up due to her breast cancer, but found back with the guy finally worthy of her true love.
I cried, for the baby that Charlotte always wanted but could not conceive, and which finally came through adoption.
I cried, for Miranda's new found meaning of love towards Steve's senile mum, and how she finally admitted her true feelings for Steve.
I cried, for Carrie's reunion with Mr. Big after more than 6 years of mistakes, after mistakes made, done, forgotten and reopened.
But most of all, I cried for the one true love, which I once felt, had, and fervently wished I still have.