Life Sucks. So What?

There was a time when all I have to do is step into a shop and get whatever I want without even blinking. I bought a $105 jeans without even stopping to think whether I need it or not.

When I had my first child, I just have to impulsively enter a Cerisi store and bought 5 boys outfit at one go. Sometimes, all it takes is one trip to the market for my saturday routine of spending $80 on my weekly supply of groceries and I came upon a makeshift table of babies clothes for everyday use and I'd blow $20 just like that.

I'm not a compulsive buyer. Nor am I a rich tai-tai. Spending on the above is chicken feed compared to the obscene amount of money the kids spend on these days.

I longed for those days. My weekly saturday trip to the market would involve me dragging my then 2 year old boy and promising him a trip to the playground if he's good. My first stop would be the seafood stall. I didn't blink if my choice of garoupa, squid and prawns alone adds up to $40. I always add an unplanned can of peach for him (he loves peaches in cans) to my list of groceries. Groceries for the week done, I'd let him play at the playground on the market square while I read the newspaper. He'll help me push the cart home and promptly fell asleep in front of the TV with the fan on. My husband would be pushing in the weekend shift but he'll normally be home by 3pm. So I'll start preparing lunch and dinner at the same time. I wanted that monotony because it provides a sense of security. There is nothing for me to worry about.

I wanted those days back.

How I longed to purchase an apple pie in macdonald's without hesitating. I'd give anything for a chance to choose between a $1.90 peach tart with a miserable slice of peach at Polar Puff or a $3.90 alternative at Delifrance but with real half a peach. Sometimes, when I'm stressed out at work, I'll take a cab to Clementi and purchase one bedsheet just for the fun of it.

No matter how it was back then, we always managed our spending. We're not rich and we only earn $2900 between us but there's always an available minimum sum of at least $40 in my salary bank a day before payday. It doesn't bother me that much because the bills would've been paid by then and we have no outstanding amount owed to any banks. We don't own credit cards and after setting aside a small amount in my secret account, $40 in my salary bank is nothing for me to worry about.

Things are so much different now. My pay day is on the 15th. By 16th, I have a total of <$10 to my name. Usually. I'm helping the best I can and I know he is struggling too. I knew where we went wrong but he refused to learn from the mistakes. He wouldn't admit that I am right and I wouldn't want to be dragged into one bitter fight after another. I have children who depended on me. I want them to be happy but I wish I could give more to them.

These days, my quota for lunch is $1.30. Anything more than that will disrupt my fragile budget. Sometimes, I don't even have $1.30. Sometimes, I'm a proud owner of $0.05 in my wallet. Sometimes none at all.

I feel so sorry for myself. All I have to do is look into my facebook account and my friends would be bingeing on nice lunches at swanky cafes or having dinner at one of those restaurants that charges exorbitant prices on atmosphere alone. Sometimes there would be photos of their nice and simple meals at the local coffee shop but that too is not on our "what to eat for dinner tonight" routine.

I may sound cruel and ungrateful here. Don't get me wrong. I do feel happy that the family is happy with whatever simple things we had. Our house is rented out and we have to rent a small studio apartment across the causeway to get by. We commute 39km everyday to send the kids to school but I'm glad so far, it has not affected their studies. We are still struggling with paying the banks and financing the car. No matter how hungry I was at work, we can still afford a nice meal for dinner what with the current exchange rate being at our advantage. At least there's bread and butter on the table.

I cried at what's befalling us but at the same time I looked back and realise that all these things happened for a reason. However, I can't help looking back at all those happy times and missing those happy days. I let him do whatever he likes and I get to suffer for it for the rest of my life. But I don't blame him. At least he didn't gamble, womanise and spend his time doing goodness-knows-what at goodness-knows-where.

I must accept the fact that I will no longer taste the little luxuries I used to take for granted. I must accept whatever fate gave me. As long as I am still strong enough to work, I'll just contribute to the household. I'll do so until I retire.

I wouldn't have much since my CPF is dried up to pay for our flat and he does not have any CPF at all. At this rate, I don't have to worry so much when I retire at 60. Whatever miserable sum I receive will go to whatever my husband has planned. Afterall, he was the one who planned on what to spend at every yearly bonuses I get. He drives a taxi (self employed as he so insisted) so he didn't get bonuses.

He is at his most happiest come end of the year when I get get paid extra and will be the most angriest I didn't get enough insisting on me confronting my superiors on why I didn't get enough (which I don't normally do because to me, something is better than nothing). I can only manage a bittersweet smile and let him blame me for not "doing enough work" and "too lazy to upgrade myself" so that I can get better pay and contribute to the family income nevermind that currently I'm already pitching in 85%.

Don't get me wrong. He is a nice person. He buys me lunch and gave me pocket money as and when he remembers but I feel guilty asking for it because I know he's struggling too. I longed for the freedom to purchase what I want because I'm a careful spender. I always save up for a rainy day. These days I couldn't even afford to buy lunch, how to save for a rainy day? I feel like Tommy and Gina on Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer but I'm afraid to cry because my Tommy wouldn't whisper "baby it's ok". He'll scold me for not being grateful instead.

According to my family history, the girls don't live up to 70. Give or take a few years, I'll probably drop dead before I can get back the luxury of choosing between a $1.90 or $3.90 peach tart ever again.

Absolute Perfection

Dear 925

I wonder what I'll turn up to be if I were to marry you.
Will I be like how I am today or will I be a different person altogether?

Will I be going off to work humming my favourite song knowing that you'll come home after the night shift at to an empty house but a warm breakfast, lovingly prepared by me, waiting for you? Will you and I have the 1 boy and 1 girl perfect family equation living comfortably at Anchorvale Drive?

Will I be dilligiently doing my work while you snored off the rest of the morning in our quilted (300 thread-count) bed after having your fill only to wake up at noon and calling me at work just to say you love me and how you'll pick up the kids at the babysitter's later that day, then you'll pick me up from MRT station and send me home with the kids before you head off to face another rigorous night shift?

The kid's homework will be done because you're so good at tutoring the kids. They'll have dinner with me and share our big bed for the night. Honestly, will I be able to sleep on the bed alone while you're gone?

I'll watch Monday night sitcoms or the latest blockbuster thanks to the cable and tv you lovingly provide for me in the built-in cabinet (colour: dark walnut, of course) in our room. Then you'll call me 5 mins before 11pm to talk about your work and how you missed me. You'll remind me to lock up the doors and close all the windows and kiss the kids good night for you.

During your off-days, you'll pick me up from work in our brand new red Mazda (almost fully paid for of course) since you're so good at saving and how you hated to take up huge loans from the banks. We'll exchange pleasantries and we'll pick up the kids before having dinner at your favourite eating joints. Maybe we'll just go grocery shopping and I'll cook up a storm for you if it's over the weekend.

Once in a while, although I would never ask for it, you'll surprise me with a romantic weekend in Bali or Batam (I'm practical, ok). Just the two of us and you'll gently chide me for worrying about the kids at your mom's place while making sensual love to me (under a flimsy, white canopied bed) until I go senseless.

You know I hate air travelling but you know I wanted to see the Northern Lights in Canada/Alaska/Whatever. So you'll help pack our stuff so that we can spend the time together as a family. Of course, you wouldn't blame me if I forgot to bring the cellphone charger. You'll be the one who will remember to bring it. You're so smart and kind, you wouldn't blame your stressed-out wife for anything and everything.

You'll arrange for everything but you'll be asking for my opinion on matters which you think I should be involved in. I am afterall an equal partner in this relationship and you know you didn't marry someone dumb. You'll listen to my points, weigh the pros and cons and reach a compromise with me before we decide on anything( the holiday in Canada/Alaska/Whatever doesn't count). Oh yeah, we will talk and not shout at each other. Even if we do not agree, we will eventually reach a common ground because we always talk things out. You consider my views as I do yours. Did I mention that we never argue? Ever?

Our kids would perform well in school and although they're not whizzes, they make us proud with their accomplishments. You never belittle them. You never call them 'stupid'. You're firm but you're also gentle and kind with them.

We live a comfortable life away from stress, mounting unpaid bills and credit card companies baying for our blood. The furnitures would be paid for in cash (of course) and although we don't live frugally, we don't spend unnecessarily either. We will have enough reserves in our bank accounts for a rainy day. Heck, we can even go through a tornado with the kind of savings we have.

We will be the perfect family living the perfect life in a perfect home. Wouldn't that be just perfect?

Long Tunnel of Hope

No one wants to be associated with me. I don't blame them.

I was the one who opted to remain faithful to him. All I had to do was to thicken my skin and approach them for money. If they chose to avoid me, there's nothing much I can do, can I? Never mind the humiliation.

Everyone says it's blind faith. I've been called names but where else can I go if there is no other way out? Trapped like a mouse in a maze. There is no way out and I keep hitting dead ends.

My heart is heavy and it was all I could do to pretend that everything is all right for my kids' sake. It's all for them really. I laugh in the day but no one knows how I cried myself to sleep every night. I don't know how long this will go on but I'm thankful that I get to live each day with a shred of hope - even if it's only a tiny shred.

I pray for strength.

Final Fantasy - my ass..

It's ok.

Now I see everything. Finally.

I approach you in my hour of need and I understand if you're sceptical about everything including my hysterical outburst.

You said you trust me. I get that.
It's him you don't trust. I get that loud and clear too.

You said you've spent some time thinking about it and you need to lay down the rules, terms and conditions. Fine. I like this approach. Professional. The more formal the terms are, the better it is for everyone.

And then you make me wait.

And wait.

And wait.

In typical "you" fashion, you disappeared. Just like how you did 12 years ago. You refused to commit and you fucking disappear!!..

Oh yes, I envy you. I envy your perfect life, your perfect wife, your perfect family. But not so much to the extend that I will want to ruin all that you've built. No, I refused to waste my time on such trivial issues.

I for one, do not subscribe to the theory of revenge. I believe that what goes around, comes around. You gave me false hopes about helping but ended up leaving me waiting. Just like how I waited for your phone calls, how I waited for your weekends off, how I waited for you to spend time with me and how I seemed to be perpetually waiting for you 12 years ago. Sorry. If you think I'd beg and grovel my way up to you this time, then you're wrong.

I don't mind if you do not wish to help. I don't mind if you casts opinions on myself and 'him'. But at least let me know. Just say it straight to my face "No. I can't help you". Finito. El fin. Die Ende. Rampung. The End.

I'm sure I'm matured enough to accept that. You think I'd stomp my feet and tease your cock for you? Oh please, you can be so fucking stupid at times.

But boy I sure love your stories. I love the way you say you toss your money around, like water from a faucet. You gave senior citizens hundreds during your raya visits. You change hundred dollar notes like nothing to gave alms to the kids. The way you describe your generosity exceeds even the wildest imagination. You gave support to helpless widows whose husbands left them because they (the widows) fuck around. You gave away your moollahs to help their children. You gave money to people who never pay you back. Of course you have the right to be suspicous and queried my actions.

I understand all that. Of course I want the terms and conditions if they're legal. I'll sign my name in blood if I have to. But you refused to let me know your terms. As I said, you left me waiting.

I dwelled on it and I don't need an ass's brain to tell me that one of your terms would involve something underneath my panties.

If you think I'd give it to you, then fuck you!! Twelve years ago, you're a lousy boyfriend. Sad to say, 12 years on, you turned out to be a lousy 'friend' too.

Don't bother looking up for me. You're as good as dead.

Because, men being men, at the end of the day, it's only their bloody balls that matters to them.

Have a nice fucking day.

Bad, bad, bad girl!!

I'm feeling like shit right now.
I've hit my all time low.

My intention was to go there, grab the money and figure out a way to pay off the loan in comfortable monthly installments while pretending that life was fine as it is.

I was desperate and when you're desperate, you can do just about anything.

From the moment I stepped out of the cab in front of Cold Storage, I couldn't feel my heartbeat and I couldn't breathe. It didn't help when there was a bronze cab in front of me with an advertisement at the bumper that says "Catch Cheating Spouse". Something bubbled in my throat. It's either hysterical laughter or my breakfast that morning. Given another time when I would recall back fondly, I would have a good kick out of this memory. But at that particular moment, only God knew how I felt.

So there I was at Holland V Starbucks trying to find the staircase that will lead to the alfresco dining area upstairs. Last time I remembered, it was there but when I asked the barrista, all I got was a blank stare and a confused look. Apparantly, there was renovation going on upstairs because they blocked the narrow staircase with their condiments cabinet.

My text sounded panicky. He was still on his way and he told me to stay put, something of which I found impossible given the situation I was in. I kept scanning the main road for a bronze cab that will untimately result in my instant departure from this earth if the owner of the cab found out I was at Holland V and not at Tampines as I had told him earlier.

And yes, at that moment, I AM the Cheating Spouse.

But my intention was good.
I need the money.
I really, really NEED the money.

I was jittery and am definitely a perfect candidate for CID officers looking for contraband cigarettes under my bra.

He told me to walk slowly towards the back and look for Coffee Bean but he's not sure about the "alfresco upstairs" bit. So I picked my way with ridiculous, thin heels up the hilly slope. I asked a mid 40s tai-tai if there's a Coffee Bean around and she was like "you're standing next to it". Hah. Stupidity at it's maximus.

So I went in. It was very crowded and no, there were no alfresco upstairs. I was standing around the counter looking like a potted plant when I spotted a girl moving her Fujitsu notebook from the sofa and moved to a table nearby. I grabbed the sofa, strategically placed behind a row of plastic leaves and waited.

The lighting was soft and I knew it will hid the fresh pimple scar I had managed to get rid off a half and hour earlier while scrubbing my face frantically in front of the mirror in the Ladies at my office.

I sat back and scrolled my iBook, read two pages of Emma and gave up when I had no idea what Mr Knightley was saying. It was then when he walked in.

He was different. The years had been kind to him. A bit rounder but in a healthier, happier way.

We had iced mocha and he bought me a blueberry muffin. It was a long time since I indulged in something like this and it's a hell of a lot nicer since he's paying for it. No time to be embarrased. He wanted my time so he jolly well have to pay for it.

I just thought I could get the money and make my quick exit, but I didn't gamble on what my feelings and emotions were to experience next.

We spent 3 hours catching up. My eyes kept darting towards the entrance. I have a reason to be afraid and yes, I was very, very scared.

Too many things to say and no words could describe how I felt at that moment. I wasn't exactly flirting but I managed to act like a matured 36 year old without being flighty and nervous like a dizzy 16 year old schoolgirl.

Maybe it's my manner or the way I sat. Maybe it's how I talked and moved my hands elegantly while I spoke and not gesturing around wildly and poking the air with my fork while expressing my disgust in North Korea's future nuclear plans.

I acted like I sipped designer coffee every other afternoon at a swanky cafe.

Whatever I was showing him at that time was a total farce and of course, I didn't exactly fooled him. The tears gave it away. The emotions racing across my face was easy to read.

We spoke about the past, and how things would have been if I didn't acted irrationally and we didn't had that misunderstanding years ago. Things would be different if I were to let him explain his actions and not run off with a rebound guy who was kind enough to pick up the pieces but alas took you for granted and expected you to solve the worlds' problem for him.

Time flew by and before we knew it, it was time to go. I did not regret rejecting the money and he drove me back. What happened next was unexplainable and of course unforgivable. He asked for a kiss. For a moment, I felt like that 21 year old girl all those years ago. I lost my head. I coudn't remember what I did. One moment, my hand was on the door handle and the next, his lips were on mine.

I was back in 1995. I was the super eager virgin having her first kiss. Time stood still. It was how I've always remembered it. My left hand grabbed the back of his neck and it was then I realised that I had made a horrible mistake.

WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE???!!!.

It was difficult to control my emotions. I was a mess. He caught me at my most vulnerable moment and I totally loose it.

I told him I missed him and his eyes, Oh God, his eyes...!!..He was still in love with me..

Why?? Why must this happen at a time like this? My confusion, my financial problem that will result in me renting my unit and moving back to my mum's, my sister hating me for doing so because I'm reclaiming back my room (which is now her room).

My marriage is not even breaking up and there I was kissing my bloody ex boyfriend.

I couldn't accept the money he gave me and told him to forget about everything. I couldn't think straight. He told me that he will always be there if I needed him and I'm not to do anything stupid like jumping off buildings when I couldn't take it anymore.

At that moment, my boys' faces flashed before my eyes and I broke down. I managed a lame joke about him writing to my parents (that's another story, I'll blog about them later when I'm in a saner state of mind).

I walked straight but with the emotional turmoil boiling in me and the guilt written all over my face, it was all I could do not to fall over my thin heels. I glanced back but couldn't see his expression through the windscreen. The second time I looked, his Mazda3 was speeding away.

I hated myself. I deserved to be flogged to death.

Jealous Much?

For the upteenth time, I wonder if i'm doing the right thing by opening a facebook account and adding all my ex secondary school friends in. It's like deja vu all over again. Me on the outside watching them with their perfect school bag, perfect stationeries, perfect clothes and perfect pocket allowance (otherwise, how could they afford all those esprits and G2000s?).

Five years in YHSS left nothing much to be mulled or mused over.

Once again I felt like the stranger I was back in school. Only difference is today, they have the perfect families, the perfect kids, the perfect husbands, the perfect private house, the perfect car and basically the perfect everything.

Maybe I should just quit FB and get on with my not-so-perfect life.

I hear Voices

The office phone rang.

I absently picked up the receiver like how I would on any given day. But today, I got a shock that jolted me wide awake.

That voice. The boy couldn't have been more than 19.

The way he spoke. The lilt. The slang. The way some consonent in his words hit a high note at the oddest places. So much like my Salik.

My heart hit the roof of my mouth. I couldn't find my tongue. For one sick moment, I thought it was him. I thought I was back in 1993.

He was enquiring the status of his transcript. He claimed he was from ite macpherson. Dear God, that exact same place where Salik used to spend 2 years of his life doing something I think he regretted till this very day.

Memories came flooding in. What more can this innocent caller bring back from the depths of my best kept memories no matter how bitter?