He’s 21, handpicked by the rest from the row of them right before us, and he sat right next to the huge space next to me after everyone, well, huddled together to make us enough space to lie down.

He’s tall, suave, and his handshake was warm..

My disinterest took a turn when I realised he is half Singaporean, making the conversation easier, with more things we could relate to.

He’s new to the field, he’s fun, and he has a coolness about him not much others there had(the others annoyed me no end especially the….).

He’s bloody 21.

He squatted down abashedly when he forgot the lyrics to the song he was singing, and gave a cheeky smile. He came back to the table, unaffected that we hadn’t gotten him any garlands.

The annoying Chinese female staff displayed the ultimate 2-faced when I rejected her suggestion of paying for a garland for him, and her look was pretty priceless, before it took a second too long for her to return to her usual composure.

We exited out of the club, and it was interesting how he was honest, upfront, and very realistic about what he was doing.

He towered over me, and if not for his age, I would almost think he could well offer ladies the kind of security, and protection we look for.

What impressed me most was his easygoingness, and.. honesty.

And I actually could understand why paying for such experience could be so gratifying.

Because you always know what you are getting, however staged, and the part I liked about last night, about him, was that unlike others, it was hardly staged.

And it was nice to know, money can buy you a good looking companion, brilliant conversations, desire, sex, and even…. honesty.

I remember laying in bed yesterday, feeling real cosy. I finally managed to sleep through, and the bad dreams no longer making their presence known.

And I finally am starting to feel hungry and getting my huge appetite back. Yum.

I stared at this space for the longest time and I spaced out my mind long enough to not know what to write.

I am not good with dates. I lament constantly about men perpetual lack of interest in me, and yet I have to admit that it was my lukewarm interest in men(they are just sex-machines, you see. No, I am kidding, really).

I think, since a long while back, I have already conditioned myself to think that I don’t really need them.

I enjoy their kisses, their cuddles, their warmth, their company, and whatever that’s in between their legs which bring me pleasure(ha! ha! ha! This is VERY subjective, depending on how much I feel for the person, the size, the girth, the…. sustainability of the, uhm, tool).

There was a time, I enjoyed being taken care of, most of all. And I enjoyed caring for someone else, to spoil them silly, to just.. you know, pretend to be in love.

I have always been someone hopelessly romantic, and incredibly sexually sensual. But I realised how my cynicism has transformed me to the other end of the spectrum(cough cough).

Maybe when you block out whatever your feelings, and then, everything means less to you.

I want to date again, I proudly declared, say, 2 weeks ago, over MSN, mahjong table, whatever whatever, wherever.

I woke up one day and I promise myself I am gonna treat myself better in 2008 and a new year, a fresh start.

I decide to give myself a little more respect, be it I deserve it or not.

I decide I will not shortchange myself anymore.

With all the promises I made to myself, I feel stronger, and I also feel a part of me dying.

A part of the old me, which is so dear, so…. different.

But the thing is, with the strength I was bestowed, I feel that I don’t really need anyone anymore.

It was as if I was conditioned not needing anyone anymore. People know me always complain how much pride I have in me, and how stubborn I can be, and at those times I really wish I could succumb to the convenience, I would somehow dissuade myself from so.

Actually, I think it is because when I needed those most, they are usually unavailable, or too much of a hassle. But when they are readily available, I would have already learnt it is something I can overcome myself.

That, includes heading to the hospital by myself by cab when my water broke. Muahahaha.

(Oh fuckety fuck! OMG. DIE. OMG. AH. OMG. OMG OMG OMG OMG.)

I so shouldn’t have agreed on the gathering tomorrow night.

I sooooooooooooo shouldn’t have.

I am so hyperventilating.

Mr KG, apparently, will be there.

And… I am supposed to be introduced to my friends’ guy pals tomorrow night.

And… one of the guys I dated… will be there too.

I am so going to be cringing in utter embarrassment.

Oh I have a job tomorrow night too.

And oh, this is so totally random, but uhm… die, I haven’t done my Christmas shopping yet.

And my furniture shopping. Argh.

I digress.

Like I was saying. I would love to date again, but I am not sure I can get over myself to you know, date seriously.

And at this point, the romantic mental images of me crazily in love, is just, inconceivable. I would love to, but it is as if I have became THE commitment-phobe now.

I think I lost a spark in me.

And I wonder will I meet a guy who would date me without fucking me. And I was seriously thinking of making it a disclaimer to whomever I might date in the future. I am almost insane, I know.

But, I think I am just not quite sure I can fuck someone new/else after almost 3 years. I monogamy queen for so long, cough cough, not ready to lose my crown, you know?

Don’t get me wrong, I love fucking/physical intimacy, and I believe I am ravenous most of the time(no, you didn’t hear it from me. And NO mental images, please), but it is just that I don’t feel like doing it anymore.

But, of course, I don’t have to tell them that it is likely that one day when “feeeeeling”(not horniness hor, thank you) comes, I might just rip off their clothes in a frenzy for some fierce, passionate actions. But no pain please. Pain and intimacy just don’t go well together for me.

I think I just miss the sweetness of good ol’ dating days. Hang out, chill, do sports together, watch movies, strolls, cruising around. And it just ain’t the intimacy that appeals anymore.

I think I am looking for friends for keep, rather than just.. shallow relationships that don’t bring beyond myself.

Despite my daily claims of how horny I am, my brr brr is so lonely these days that it must be weeping in a corner of my drawer in absolute despair.

I think I am going to die a celibated spinster.

Oh. Am heading out now. Bye!

This post is so totally random that I don’t even know why did it exist in the first place.