As I summoned up the extra, final, last-resort reserve of energy that I had summoned up at least 6 times in the previous 2 days, I picked up the keys and The Lady apologised for not dressing up. 'Sorry sweetie, I'm just not the dressing up type'. I made the obligatory disappointment noises about how unfair it was not to be dating a girl who was happy to cosplay, she smiled and we headed out for an early dinner. Her suggestion as she didn't want to deal with Valentine's crowds - gotta love that in a girl!
But as I lay awake last night (I should know better than to lay my head down and then think about money issues. Needless to say I was awake for the next hour or two thinking about all manner of things) it occurred to me that I actually do like a girl to dress up sometimes. Not in a dirty cosplay kind of way; schoolgirls and nurses' uniforms do nothing for me at all. But it's always nice to see the girl you are dating dress herself up, looking all hot as a lead up to a little something something.
So it made me wonder, what should we be willing to give up in a relationship? This was more a philosophical question than anything else. I like my girl to dress up, she doesn't. So is that just one of those things you let go because everything else is so good? Naturally this falls into two camps - settling and compromising. I've always been someone that has said I would never settle. If it wasn't right then I wouldn't continue on in a relationship just because it's nice to have someone. My past is littered with a host of amazing women with which it just wasn't "right". I don't want to wake up when I'm 42 years old and think 'Shit, this is comfortable but I actually dreamt of something more'.
Naturally it has occurred to me that perhaps expectations are so astronomically high that noone will ever actually meet them. Which is where we come to compromise. Maybe I'm getting cynical, perhaps just shaking off that last remnant of umbilical naivety, but I don't think there is anyone that's perfect for anyone. Yes, in my secret heart I believe there is, but the brain tells me there isn't and apparently I'm supposed to listen to that, not my heart which sometimes gets confusing messages from a different lower appendage. So we compromise. Now this requires a careful tightrope walk to avoid being mistaken for settling.
Compromising is about letting go of some of the little things. So she's not quite as tall/short/slim/fat as the girl's you have previously dated, doesn't matter. If you enjoy one another then it's probably something you can and should let go of. Perhaps she's tardy on a constant basis... grrrr... it's something you can probably get over and move on from. Or even ^gasp!^ tell her about and see if anything changes. An annoying laugh? Sleeps with stuffed toys? Doesn't have quite the career of the woman you always saw yourself with? Again, things, that on a case by case basis, should be carefully considered and probably compromised on. Though the tardiness thing really does piss me off. However I have long since pretended to accept that the rest of the world doesn't seem to see punctuality as any kind of virtue.
As for not wanting to dress up? Right now? Right now I'm settling for compromise.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Drippy
Have been struck down with some kind of flu mutation bug over the past few days. In addition to a nose that runs like a faucet, weird dreams and the general lack of energy that comes with flu I find myself unable to concentrate. Anything anyone says that is longer than about six words must be repeated. The strangest part about all this is that it isn't all that different to everyday life.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Pay for me to lose weight!!
While this proposal goes back a little ways and the outcome has yet to be decided, it has been suggested to the Victorian government in Australia that the government should pay for lap band surgery for obese teenagers. This pretty much speaks for itself. In general terms, should it be the responsibility of governments to pay for weight-loss surgery for teenagers? And why are we stopping with teenagers? If we pay for them, should we not also pay for adults who have been 'victimised' by corporate advertising campaigns resulting in a steady diet of Big Macs and Zingers?
Me? Well I'm utterly opposed to this use of tax payer dollars. It feels to me that we, as a society, are no longer taking responsibility for ourselves and our lives. Child breaks his arm on a set of monkey bars? Parent sues the school or the local council. Burn your tongue on hot coffee? Try suing. And now we've come to 'Hey I'm fat - help me out'. As a skinny person, I'd argue that the government should pay for my steroids so I look like all the other beefcakes. Fair and reasonable huh? No? So why should we pay for the people on the opposite extreme? Sure my lack of superhero muscles isn't immediately life-threatening but should I be attacked in the street then my inability to benchpress 250 may cause me to die. Or alternatively my body issues may become so extreme that I spiral into a suicidal depression. I feel like my life is threatened - pay for Aaron my personal trainer and a big grab bag of anabolic steroids!
The culture of not taking responsibility, anti-responsibility (?), that has migrated rapidly from the USA to other 1st world countries over the past few years is easily as scary and insidious as the obesity epidemic. Give it a few more years and genetic engineering may eliminate all these kinds of worries. In the meantime I'll be damned if my tax dollars are going to the progeny of irresponsible parents.
As a disclaimer, I should actually add that I like my ladies with some boo-tay, so this is not a rant against fat people. Yes I'm saying fat people. Political correctness has it's place, for sure. But there's a point at which it has gone a little too far. Folks, someone who is less than 6foot tall and weighs over 110kg is fat. There's no way round that. I also still find it cute the way Singaporeans often avoid the word 'fat' and substitute it with 'chubby'. Chubby has such cuteness connotations!
Me? Well I'm utterly opposed to this use of tax payer dollars. It feels to me that we, as a society, are no longer taking responsibility for ourselves and our lives. Child breaks his arm on a set of monkey bars? Parent sues the school or the local council. Burn your tongue on hot coffee? Try suing. And now we've come to 'Hey I'm fat - help me out'. As a skinny person, I'd argue that the government should pay for my steroids so I look like all the other beefcakes. Fair and reasonable huh? No? So why should we pay for the people on the opposite extreme? Sure my lack of superhero muscles isn't immediately life-threatening but should I be attacked in the street then my inability to benchpress 250 may cause me to die. Or alternatively my body issues may become so extreme that I spiral into a suicidal depression. I feel like my life is threatened - pay for Aaron my personal trainer and a big grab bag of anabolic steroids!
The culture of not taking responsibility, anti-responsibility (?), that has migrated rapidly from the USA to other 1st world countries over the past few years is easily as scary and insidious as the obesity epidemic. Give it a few more years and genetic engineering may eliminate all these kinds of worries. In the meantime I'll be damned if my tax dollars are going to the progeny of irresponsible parents.
As a disclaimer, I should actually add that I like my ladies with some boo-tay, so this is not a rant against fat people. Yes I'm saying fat people. Political correctness has it's place, for sure. But there's a point at which it has gone a little too far. Folks, someone who is less than 6foot tall and weighs over 110kg is fat. There's no way round that. I also still find it cute the way Singaporeans often avoid the word 'fat' and substitute it with 'chubby'. Chubby has such cuteness connotations!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Biz-ay..?
If 2008 has brought anything it is the disquiet that is general busy-ness. Work has been mad, which is not to say it's anything I can't cope with more that there's no time to just sit at your desk and think about what you are going to do on the weekend. I must confess to having always envied friends that seemed to have limitless time to play with Facebook and Msgr whilst on the company dollar. It seems like such a luxury. Waste of the company's time and if I was the boss I'd block sites like Facebook, but at least until said bosses ban such sites in the workplace it seems to be very much a luxury.
Have had a relatively lowkey weekend. Stayed in on Saturday night, my favourite guilty pleasure in all the world! Shopped at Plaza Singapura this afternoon ad found some cute earrings that will find their way to the girlfriend on Valentine's Day. I'm not into Valentines and I'm not sure that she is, but I kind of want to get her a present anyway. She's been very good for me so far and while I'm not sure she really knows that I think I'll tell her. And earrings don't hurt to grease the wheels.
Sidenote : She told me recently that she had originally intended to set me up with one of her friends but upon reflection decided she would keep me for herself. I'm not sure whether to feel chuffed or akin to a G.I.Joe figurine.
Had an interesting run-in with a girl I saw briefly last year. This is a girl that will delete your number just because she feels slighted in some small way (e.g. she asks you out and you already have plans so you get deleted and crucified among her circle of friends). As I trudged up the escalator to the Lido foodcourt I saw her coming down the other side. Well Sox, do your thing. Go around, go down the other side and say hello and wish her well. Which I did. She had booked tickets to see a movie by herself (much later in the evening as it turned out). No problem there so I invited her to sit and eat with me. We chatted and I asked about her new job and she puffed up her chest and told me how they are sending her to London in a couple of months time because they are so impressed with her. Well that's great, says I. Glad to hear things are turning around for you. And then it comes time for me to leave - I was due in Boat Quay for a boys night out later that evening. She follows me down the escalator and then proceeds with the "Wow, what am I going to do for two whole hours while I wait for this movie..." bit. For someone who is notoriously blind when it comes to this kind of thing, even I could see where this was going. While it crossed my mind for a half a second there, it was no time at all before two things entered my head. One, I have a fantastic girlfriend and if I want a shag that desperately then I should just ask her to come over. Two, that it was girls like her that put me in a miserable state of mind last year and caused me to change out of some of the old patterns. So I told her to enjoy shopping at Borders and headed on my way.
While this is not to say I've done anything particularly extraordinary in that exchange. All I take from it is that I'm starting to make better, smarter decisions. Let's hope they continue.
Have had a relatively lowkey weekend. Stayed in on Saturday night, my favourite guilty pleasure in all the world! Shopped at Plaza Singapura this afternoon ad found some cute earrings that will find their way to the girlfriend on Valentine's Day. I'm not into Valentines and I'm not sure that she is, but I kind of want to get her a present anyway. She's been very good for me so far and while I'm not sure she really knows that I think I'll tell her. And earrings don't hurt to grease the wheels.
Sidenote : She told me recently that she had originally intended to set me up with one of her friends but upon reflection decided she would keep me for herself. I'm not sure whether to feel chuffed or akin to a G.I.Joe figurine.
Had an interesting run-in with a girl I saw briefly last year. This is a girl that will delete your number just because she feels slighted in some small way (e.g. she asks you out and you already have plans so you get deleted and crucified among her circle of friends). As I trudged up the escalator to the Lido foodcourt I saw her coming down the other side. Well Sox, do your thing. Go around, go down the other side and say hello and wish her well. Which I did. She had booked tickets to see a movie by herself (much later in the evening as it turned out). No problem there so I invited her to sit and eat with me. We chatted and I asked about her new job and she puffed up her chest and told me how they are sending her to London in a couple of months time because they are so impressed with her. Well that's great, says I. Glad to hear things are turning around for you. And then it comes time for me to leave - I was due in Boat Quay for a boys night out later that evening. She follows me down the escalator and then proceeds with the "Wow, what am I going to do for two whole hours while I wait for this movie..." bit. For someone who is notoriously blind when it comes to this kind of thing, even I could see where this was going. While it crossed my mind for a half a second there, it was no time at all before two things entered my head. One, I have a fantastic girlfriend and if I want a shag that desperately then I should just ask her to come over. Two, that it was girls like her that put me in a miserable state of mind last year and caused me to change out of some of the old patterns. So I told her to enjoy shopping at Borders and headed on my way.
While this is not to say I've done anything particularly extraordinary in that exchange. All I take from it is that I'm starting to make better, smarter decisions. Let's hope they continue.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Wacky Hijinx
When does a 'joke' cross the line and become reckless endangerment? Or even attempted murder? Apparently that time hasn't yet come for a woman who served a customer a shot of cleaning detergent mixed with Coke. A $3000 fine and a good behaviour bond?! Forgive me for thinking that tossing back shots of cleaning detergent may be incredibly dangerous. I'm a bit old-fashioned that way. You know, skull and bones on any bottle usually says to me DON'T put it in your mouth or serve to customers, not possibly-give-it-a-try-because-it'll-be-funny. It's times like this that the law confounds me. Makes me wonder if this woman wasn't an attractive blond from Park Orchards but an overweight, dole-bludging bogan from Broadmeadows, would the result have been the same? It's probably best not to hurt my head with such questions.
Chinese New Year is coming up here this week so I'll be making a beeline for the fruit section of my supermarket sometime in the next day or two to load up on oranges for the appropriate parties and heading off to Chinatown tomorrow night for... well... something. I know that's a day early, but Wednesday night will be a Boy's Night Out. I must confess that one of the advantages of living in a multiracial, multi-denominational society is that you end up with a shitload of public holidays. So after only 5 weeks back at work I end up with half the week off. A fair return that should happen more regularly in my opinion.
Chinese New Year is coming up here this week so I'll be making a beeline for the fruit section of my supermarket sometime in the next day or two to load up on oranges for the appropriate parties and heading off to Chinatown tomorrow night for... well... something. I know that's a day early, but Wednesday night will be a Boy's Night Out. I must confess that one of the advantages of living in a multiracial, multi-denominational society is that you end up with a shitload of public holidays. So after only 5 weeks back at work I end up with half the week off. A fair return that should happen more regularly in my opinion.
Feeding Frenzy
As it strokes well past half three in the morning, I find myself thinking about the last time I would have been running out of the house to seven eleven in the middle of the night to pick up cigarettes. I'm pretty sure this was a fairly regular occurrence when I was about sixteen and my crew of four would hang out at J's place listening to Sonic Youth, smoking cigarettes and talking about alternative music and the importance of love. Those were some days. Before grass. Before sex. Before we realised that we weren't actually in love at all. Some might say those days were innocent but they seemed gritty and life or death at the time.
I've taken some time away from blogging and as I browse a range of blogs I forgot just how indulgent the medium can truly be. I can't promise anything different here, in fact if anything, I can promise a healthy dose of indulgence. Singapore provides a range of bloggers, many of which have gained some semblance of prominence within the local popular culture. A far cry from Australia where I fail to name a single 'famous' blogger. The closest would be Garth Franklin who created a film site from nothing to become, at least in my very humble opinion, the most go-to film site on the Web.
So here I am, rambling and thankful for having Mondays off. As I embark upon a new relationship it occurs to me that the older I've gotten the less able I am to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Which is not to say I'm telling porky pies, more that when I was a younger man I would spill every ounce of myself to someone the minute I let them into my life. Yet here I am, knowing that there are things I'm not saying until 'I'm sure'. It's funny because I've not been in that position previously. Have I become so bitter and protective?
I've taken some time away from blogging and as I browse a range of blogs I forgot just how indulgent the medium can truly be. I can't promise anything different here, in fact if anything, I can promise a healthy dose of indulgence. Singapore provides a range of bloggers, many of which have gained some semblance of prominence within the local popular culture. A far cry from Australia where I fail to name a single 'famous' blogger. The closest would be Garth Franklin who created a film site from nothing to become, at least in my very humble opinion, the most go-to film site on the Web.
So here I am, rambling and thankful for having Mondays off. As I embark upon a new relationship it occurs to me that the older I've gotten the less able I am to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Which is not to say I'm telling porky pies, more that when I was a younger man I would spill every ounce of myself to someone the minute I let them into my life. Yet here I am, knowing that there are things I'm not saying until 'I'm sure'. It's funny because I've not been in that position previously. Have I become so bitter and protective?
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