Just about last week, I mentioned the guest my dad pre-empted me about.

I hadn’t given it much thoughts as he was supposed to move in for a couple of weeks though I was concerned that my personal space was gonna be intruded.

He didn’t turn up on Thursday, and I soon chucked the issue quickly behind, thinking that he must have found another alternative, or he had returned to “Sabah” earlier than planned (my dad mentioned something about him being his friend from Sabah, and something about being a policeman, I was quick to form a picture of a corrupted, retired meanie in my mind, and was glad I heard nothing more about this guest).

So, fast forward to Sunday, after returning home feeling not so well when out in town, a buzz was heard in the hall, and I was only too glad to have the little one throwing herself into my embrace, fresh from her trip to Genting.

Followed behind was the frosty couple in the form of my parents.

The moment my mum got into the house, her bitterness was quick to fuse into the air, and started lamenting about how naughty Minibean was, and how tiring it was, and yak yak yak yak yak… and then she kinda screamt at me to get my stuff out of the guest room, blarblarblar, and ranted about how she was given more work to do, and had to take care of another person in the home, yadda yadda yadda.

You get the drift.

She could be heard mumbling, cursing relentlessly, and her wrath was woohooo, scorching. The world owes her everything again.

Wait a minute…. doesn’t this ring a bell somewhere? And aren’t all these rants oddly familiar to what I had sat through before? Tsk tsk tsk.

Of course, the well-learnt way was to just dismiss it and roll my eyes in the other direction, and well, ignore it.

And from experience, the silence would just ignite the spark even further, cos there is no right way going about this, do this wrong, do that also will be wrong.

Sibei deja vu.

To the extent that I could hold it no longer. Back then she wanna do it to me, cos it was only me, fine.

But Minibean was still mindlessly running about in the house, oblivious to what grandma was raging about, and I didn’t want the negative vibes to get to her.

“Ai yoo, enough already or not?”

“You know who is the guy whom your dad is fetching over now?” Dad had just left the place to go fetch the guest, apparently, “remember that woman who -insert history here-, it is her sister’s son! Now all the anger just come back again!”

Now, I remember that only too well. My dad’s then mistress, the one from JB who wrote a long letter on a piece of foolscap paper, and wrote about how she wanted to stay by my dad’s side, and her letter was one which wrote “I love you” and “that house is very nice, and the price is very good, make a decision fast” in the same sentence.

That conniving bitch brought much grief to my family, not only because of how manipulative she was, seriously, anyone could sniff the fake understanding she was displaying in the letter, probably thinking she would win the game with just… well, the tricks guys love to be deceived with, but also she had eventually snitched to the ICA and caused my mum to be barred from entering Singapore for a breach of immigration law.

And not forgetting a lawyer letter.

And the most disgusting part is her trying to be nice on the front, and then shot a lawyer’s letter at my mum for her “loss of transport” after my mum didn’t allow my dad to loan her his car. The ICA stunt, was low man.

I was angry with my dad of course.

Even though that happened a dozen years ago.

SERIOUSLY, MEN! How insensitive can men be?

And someone’s son? Is he going to cheat an old man’s money like his lowly aunt did?

And…. fuck lah, why can’t men be upfront and totally honest?! FULL DISCLOSURE is so difficult huh? Why so sheepish? If you sheepish means you fucking know you are doing something remotely wrong, and if that’s the case, why fucking do it?

I can understand why my mum was reacting, but that doesn’t mean I need to.

She then carried on cursing till I just roared, “Stop it can? Minibean is around and don’t let her hear all these negative stuff.”

Honestly, though I know it was her choice to stay back then, and she can’t really blame anyone for her decision, just like if one day my decision should fail me, I shouldn’t, and hopefully I wouldn’t, rant at everyone else in the world and expect them to shoulder my flawed choice.

Don’t say I did this because blarblarblar, he said blarblarblar, she also blarblarblar. If you lied because you find excuses for him, and then think everything her fault, it doesn’t change the fact you are a liar and just trying to make yourself look better.

And I also told my dad, he fucked up (sorry dad, you are an awesome father who dotes on me, but matter-of-factly, you did mess up there big time), and he couldn’t change the fact that it happened, and it isn’t gonna make things easier for me, even after all these years.

It is just sad that I know Minibean will grow up knowing that she has an equally fucked up father (hey, even if he is still a friend, even if one day I might marry him, even if we part someday, I am not deluded into thinking that he is an angel), and the effect might linger way into her adulthood.

The irony is when I was watching an episode of CSI yesterday:

Suspect: I never meant to hurt anyone. I need you to believe me.
Grissom: I don’t. You had choices. You made the wrong ones.

Which pretty much sums it up.

And for my dad to actually bring him back, disregarding our feelings, trust me, that was… a boo-boo I thought would not come back again.

And him not FULLY DISCLOSING the whole facts, and left it to the last minute for me to find out through a very angry mum who gave me grief, is not exactly the nicest thing to do.

I really would like to deny it, but it actually stings pretty badly. I didn’t know something from 12 years ago can still prick this badly as I saw there quietly wondering why my dad was somewhat, in my opinion, lying to me.

I was ready to build the defense mechanism sky high, in case this person is out to take advantage of my dad, or bringing more grief to the family.

The moment he got back, I was surprised (not pleasantly, I might add), that the guest was… a young chap, who looks younger than I am. I thought would be some uncle.

I said my hi with a guarded smile, and started eyeing him suspiciously.

Though he looked pretty harmless, I was still pretty pissed with my dad.

I pointblankly asked emotionlessly, “So, Dad, how do you know him?” as the chap was standing just behind him unpacking his stuff.

“Uh.. my friend’s son… his dad is a friend from Kuching.”

“Orh.. so how you know his dad?”

“Know many years already..” was his feeble reply.

Wah, still being evasive. I hate this kind of shady attitude.

“I thought you said he from Sabah?” (Don’t ask me where this came from, I had thought he was trying to hide his identity or something)

“Uh.. Kuching..”

“Kuching not in Sabah right?” “So do you know his dad, or do you know his mum?”

“They are related to the lady who helped me in my office in JB last time…“

“So it is that woman lah? Her nephew right?”

Dad started to look sheepish this moment, and shook his head to stop me from talking anymore, glancing at the tanned chap who was trying his best to pretend to be occupied.

“Ai yah.. no need to mention.”

“You dare to do, what is there to be ashamed about? And why can’t you just be upfront about it to me first?” I said it matter-of-factly and staring at him in the eyes.

He avoided my glare and stayed silent.

So anyway.

After I did that, just annoyed lah, but was okay one.

Then I asked the chap out for supper.

I had joked that “Hurhur, I am going to sound him out, if he is going to try to take advantage of my family, three of us go supper, ONLY TWO COME BACK!”

Strangely so, Minibean warmed up to him very quickly, and I had my initial reservation, because…. because.. due to a very bad episode I had when I was 4 or 5, when my cousin and his friend were renting a room from my old flat.

It wasn’t very pleasant, and I am not comfortable having guys around my girl.

When I went to get some stuff from his room (which is the room I put all my clothes, so if he is a cross-dresser, which I believe he isn’t, he would have a field day trying to squeeze into and ripping my clothes), I saw the books lying next to my basket of clothes, I sniggered out quite loudly, because he was reading:

1) Why men don’t listen and women can’t read maps (which I would like to tell him it isn’t true cos I am brilliant with maps, who needs men?!)

2) Something like.. Wake up or Break Up.

3) Something like… the truth about Sex or something?

And a worn copy of Maxim.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA.

The supper session with the dragon-boater went on for 3 hours, and he was a pretty down-to-earth guy who had his education in Singapore, and went on to join the police force.

I went on to tell him the books he reading very loserish!

Oh, and he even went to Level Up fitness already.

He is still such a baby with his views in life, and I felt he was closer in age to Minibean than me. HAHAHAHA.

He spoken about his emo-ness about breaking up with his girlfriend, and he didn’t even touch supper, cos he was so health-conscious.

He spoke of his upcoming races (marathon, and dragon boat), his love (bicycles), and how his lost 3 Gucci bags.

Then as they continued talking through supper, the expletives started spewing out, and my impression of him got better when he said “CHEEBYEEEE LAHHH!”

Yes, I am shallow that way. Hohoho.

Obviously, all 3 made it safely home.

I then realise I have to get used living with boys, and realise why my friends would never fall for their housemates when they lament how baby these big boys are. I gave him a pat on the shoulders that he should just dump those books into the bin, and listen to Aunty Ting on how to get the girls.

I have Neil Strauss’ The Rules of The Game if he wants!

And with him staying for almost a month, the competition of him hanging his trunks/underwear/triathlon suit, compared to my bra and underwear (hey, I used to have the bathroom all to myself, and I need a bit of time adjusting to SHARING) has officially began.

His toiletries were laid out neatly and I have the impression that he uses more of those than me.

And he passed the toilet bowl test with flying colours… so far.

My pet peeve with guys are those who are impossibly inconsiderate, which sadly, my dad falls into this category.

I CANNOT STAND GUYS WHO LEAVE PEE STAINS ON THE TOILET BOWL.

I CANNOT STAND GUYS WHO LIFT UP THE SEAT AND NOT PUT DOWN, SHOWING OFF THE PEE STAINS WHICH THEY FAIL TO WIPE.

AND WORST OF ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL….

THEY DON’T PUT UP THE TOILET SEAT WHEN PEEING, AND PEE ALL OVER (YES, ALL OVER) THE TOILET SEAT.

ROARRRRRRRR

Guys, I must let you know it is very the disgusting. It is one thing to think you have very good aiming skills, which I think my dad assumes he has, cos everytime he uses my bathroom, there will be a couple of unsightly drops on the seat and the floor (guys, can’t you guys wash it off?!). BUT, it is another thing when you are just being totally inconsiderate, and piss on a shared toilet, and leave pee stains ALL AROUND THE SEAT.

And you think people only do that to public toilet, let me assure it is NOT true, cos I have dated someone who did JUST THAT, and I had to really clean, wash, disinfectant the entire seat before I could use it.

It didn’t help I was seriously “urgent” and I had to “giap” my legs while spending a great deal of time doing so.

Okay, I digress.

I am just very glad he has not done any of those above yet, though I am still looking out for pee stains everytime I use the bathroom, just something I do everytime I share bathroom with a chap.

I am just very sian that I don’t get to strut around the house half naked, and have to watch someone else having the liberty to do so.

Alas, I am not into tanned, buffed boys who eat…. 1/4 of what I chomp down every meal. It makes me feel… inadequate about my shape, you know? Hahaha.

If any of you ladies out there wanna hook up with a quite down-to-earth (okay lah, I don’t know him that well yet, but he seems like a nice chap for me to think he is nothing like his aunt), tanned triathelete, who seems like the sort would pamper you with a Chanel bag if he could, you can pop by my place on the pretext that you want to spend some time with Minibean.

***

Minibean was playing with his phone, playing music via the media player when a familiar song played.

“Olivia. Sometimes when we touch.”

“Yeap,” he said.

“Do you know she is not the original singer?”

“Is it?”

“Yeap. Rod Stewart sang it, too.”

I have this conversation somewhere before, with someone else, I remember.

***

My parents also have a bit of adjusting to do living with someone.

Like how he had left his white loafers outside and then my parents asked if those were my shoes, quietly, and suspiciously.

I knew where they were going and then just narrowed my eyes to tell them “GUYS’ SHOES!!”

Then the one outside the door? They whispered.

I exasperatedly said, “those outside the door are slippers!”

“Why he got 2 pairs of shoes one ah?”

I rolled my eyes and on hindsight, wondered why I even bother to answer patiently, stating the obvious, as if speaking to Minibean, which seriously, she would have known this by now, “You know, one is for casual, and one is for going out?!”

***

And apparently, Minibean adores him enough to sit close to his side everyday when I come home, watching television next to him, and vying for his attention with Channel 5 or 8.

I have to remind her, “Stop flirting, you!“, and she would still ignore me.

She would then jump onto his back for a piggyback ride and would insist on heading out with him.

Her favourite past time these couple of days is just to sit beside him, grab his camera phone, lean her head on his shoulder as she snaps away.

She is now lying on the couch next to him as he sat in the hall watching television. Tsk.

Tsk, I should have been more worried about his safety around her, rather than the other way round.

***

Here’s a picture I tweeted earlier:

My housemate, his tiny shorts, and his uhm, “dragon”