SINGLE. SINGULAR. SINGLEHOOD.

A scary word to (some) women. I often ask myself the same question and honestly there are times I could feel confetti of panic raining over me at the thought of being single - forever.

My friend Cindy doesn’t fancy single. She fears single so much that she’d rather settle with a 2^nd best. Cindy is a 'catch' and she can do way better than podgy. With nothing better in sight and a big dash of impatient, so she went along with podgy. The minute things ended with Mr Podgy, she can’t wait to hop onto another. There is no room for single in her closet.

I on the other hand enjoy being single – most of the time. I mean… there are loads of single-behaviour to be enjoyed like sleeping in till noon, having the bed all to myself, not having to shave my legs until there is a need for it.  Ok let’s stop there on my single-behaviour. Far too much info… I don’t hate single nor I fancy it. I have taught myself to dine alone, sitting alone at the bar and I can’t remember how many times my date at the movies were everyone else there. I can’t smuggle a 12pieces of chicken nuggets into the cinema when I’m on a proper movie date. He’d freak out and I will be the crazy chicken nugget chic.

And then there is the lovely Alicia. She is looking for her ‘one’ – no matter what.  She is beyond positive that he is out there. She is one gal who is never keen on a fling, 1-night-stand, friend with benefit or anything mimicking temporary casual arrangement. Though she toyed with the idea for a bit and snapped her fingers and made them go away. I love her determination and in the meantime, she does what she does best – have fun with single. Cruising guys out in the town with funny Alicia is always doubly fun.

I wonder what ever happens to all the unmarried women.  

Where are they? 

Are they content?

Do they still have hope that one-day Prince Charming will RSVP? 

How many back-up plans?

Curiously me, like always.

Life & Something Like That

'We come into this world crying while all around us are smiling.  May we so live that we go out of this world smiling while everybody around us is weeping.'

~ Persian proverb

...this is dedicated to my father who passed on 22 August 2011.  Dad.. if you are reading this, it took me a long while to weep and I cried only because everyone expects me to.  Why must I cry?  I am part of you and you are with me day in, day out.  I see you when I look at my reflection.  I see you when I see chicken curry.  I see you when I have a cup of black coffee with dates.  I don't see a reason why must I weep.

AGE APPROPRIATE

Since I am going into my 40s (big 4 is just around the corner), I’m a bit conscious of the places I go to as far as Saturday night out is concerned.  I know this sound rather old fashion but in my opinion it is not at all fashionable to be boggie-ing until 5am anymore.  I’ve been there, done that - when I was very, very young and oh yes… it was fun and who cares about loosing precious sleep.

As I aged and getting much wiser, my ideal Saturday nightspot should be lounging at a place playing soothing relaxing music, never ending cocktails and lots of adult conversations.  And coupled with a series harmless act of flirting is nothing but an ego boost.

However my friend Sue has a different take entirely.  She’d rather join hands with the 25year olds, in a jammed packed club, ear piercing music and squeezing her self onto a shoebox sized dance floor and rubbing off other sweaty bodies.  Oddly, Sue has always been successful in slipping the idea while I’m on my 3^rd cocktail.  It’s almost as if her words were drugged but lucky me - an hour later her druggy words wore off.  I’d realise of my whereabouts, the noise and youngsters pushing their way through and I feel old.   And there goes my night in ruin.

Despite of being told in the most loving way I could think of, Sue continues to suggest that we go out and shake our bom-bom and I continue to decline. 

So, is there really an age limit as far as Saturday night clubbing is concerned? 

MR BIG

The law of attractions is finally working.  To think that I never believed in it or took the time learning it.  So to that end, law of attractions took a very long time to work its mojo on me.  All of those days watching (repeatedly) HBO's hit series Sex & The City to a point where I can rememer every line, scenes, every outfit and the countless men Samantha shagged.  I especially love the episodes about Carrie and Mr Big and at the end of every episode, I'd imagine what it would be like to have a Mr Big of my own.  And somewhat 6.5 years later, I found him.

My Mr Big is German and of course his name is not John James Preston.  Peter's  characteristic is almost Big's.  He is evasive, complicated, funny (I repeat - this German is funny!), and secretive and he doesn't always say what he means and I'm still questioning if he meant those things he said.  With Mr Big, I try not to analyze but it's an itch I can't help but to scratch - every now & again.  How I love wasting precious time with Peter.... we can sit in silent with a bottle of wine and it is so comforting.  He gives me comfort and it penetrates every pores and hair folicle.

Like Ms Bradshaw, I'd put on a sexy-Carrie, funny-Carrie and my best Dior perfume and Nine West's Kobel blue just for Mr Big.  I - like every other gal on the planet, a night out in the town and accessorized with a good looking man holding my hand is the best thing that life could offer (and 80% dark chocolate would go 2nd place at this point).   The thought of seeing him sends me to the moon & back, and my heart would do a series of circus flips and suddenly, I am flooded with endorphins. 

My journey with Mr Big has just begun.

ABSOLUTE HUNK

Jay:  words cannot describe his hunk-ness.  In his prime 32, bulging biceps, washboard abs and his eyes.... oh my godness - I'm like cheese on a hot pan every time he looks at me.  May I add, he is the absolute hotness and the absolute cool.  GAP should hire him to model their next collection.  He hits the gym 7days a week - hence the broad muscular chest and shoulders.  Ok, I should stop!  Jay comes with a sexy English accent; it felt as though I was hunk-spelled.  Just when I thought there is only 1 English hunk - David Gandy.   I couldn't make eye contact and I can't remember a thing Jay said.  I was busy composing myself, wondering if my hair is in place, if there is a piece of coriander stuck in my teeth and searching for a 2nd pair of lungs.  I'd line up smart questions and when I say them out loud, all went astray and stupid.  Friday night with Jay was a total bust and I just want to crawl into a cave.  I'd love to see him again but I need to prep-up with a bit of meditation mantra yoga.

Tobias: when we met he was just 27.  German with washboard abs and comes a smile that could cure cancer.  Can't remember much about the times we spent together but we had the best of times.  I'd melt every time he smiles and now I smile every time I think of him.  And I think of him fondly!

I am blessed to have met these absolute hunks but will I be able to handle the next hunk?  Or should I just settle for the average Joe? 

DOCTORS & HEROES

I watch Grey's Anatomy and was so madly smitten by McSteamy.  But I'm not really a fan ER and I cannot stand House.  Ok... McSteamy is hot and he got that romanticly steaming eyes and I better not talk about his abs and as it is while finishing this sentence… I have his picture in my head with nothing on but a towel. Yum!

Life has decided to present to me, two doctors of my own.  Luke is a chiropractor and Kevin is orthopedic surgeon. They are good looking but nowhere near McSteamy.  No offense doctors!

I like hanging out (or in) with Luke.  He's funny and sarcastic just like me.  On Saturday, we were hanging-in in front of the telly, condemning American TV, making fun of ourselves and we threw some medical talk in the mix.  And I was turned on by his medicinal response as if his words have healing powers.  Being a shy gal that I am (seriously I am shy), I kept my distance and kept my hands where they should be.  Finally 3hours later, Luke made his move and reached for my hands.   I thought I was going to pass out palpitating and struggling to hear what he's saying about saving the world's spinal injury.  And before he left, he snogged me, we snogged and I wanted more of Luke's snogging.

Last night I talked to Kevin, telling him sob story about my dad and his kidney and his knee surgery.  There goes Kevin on this medical chapter chat what should be done to my dad and all I can remember was dialysis, side effects of anesthesia and how my dad could live a normal life again.  He even offered to make some calls to his doctor friends.  All of a sudden, Kevin is magically converted to this hot young doctor and I all I wanted to do is grab him by the collar and snog him.  Could it be that I am attracted to his medical brain or the hero doctor in him?  Or could it be both?  Prior to this, I thought Kevin was just Kevin without the zsa zsa zoo - at least on my part.

It's official ~ I have a weakness for young doctors.

3 THINGS MONEY CAN'T BUY

1.  The right boy to share a $5 coffee with.
2.  Living the dream.
3.  A leap of faith.