A Short Story About a Boy

 

About a Boy Who Is and Isn't

A short story about a boy and a girl...


One day, a boy came into a girl's life and funnily enough, it wasn't until awhile later when all was still, that she realised that he was there at all and that his presence, so quiet, had made such an impact that she had inadvertently started to refurbish her entire universe to accommodate him. It's funny...how the most unexpected thing or person presents themselves to you and suddenly everything is different, shifted...out of whack...but better.

So many of us romantics at heart grow up believing this beautiful person will come along one day, see us, believe in us enough, love us and save us. So many of us meet the person we think is THAT person. So many of us find our happiness. The girl did. For awhile at least. He walked out of the black and white, out of her imagination and landed on her doorstep. He held so many perfect things in the palm of his hand that for awhile there, she thought he held her universe too. So many of us find out later that happiness was a bit of a sham and that you had been fooling yourself into believing in it, so desperate were you to find it. 'Oh well', thought the girl.

You go through phases of course...anger, desperation, grief, sadness until one day, quite gradually, you find space between you and everything else. A own private universe. But in that space, you find peace. And that peace is where you start to find love and joy in so many other things. That happened to the girl too. Space made her suddenly realise how much of it there is out there, how much she was yet to grasp, to chase, to appreciate.

So the girl found herself meandering along her universe, appreciating space, feeling at peace, when a boy presented himself to her. He was so fundamentally different, so strange, and so ridiculous that contemplating him was out of the question. He was opposite to everything she had thought she was. An Opposite Boy.

The girl went on believing in the things she did. She thought surely by now, when she was so at peace someone else would come along. Someone who fit. Someone who was the same as the other but better. Subsequently, some who fit the bill did come along and the girl was surprised at how easily they materialised, these better boys.

The Opposite Boy however, hung around in the corners of the girl's universe. Everything he was, was opposite. Light to her dark. Big to her small. Quiet to her noise. Obtuse to her clarity. Brightness to her gloom. Ridiculousness to her sensibility. Beautiful to her ugly.
Every step she took to avoid him, he would take a step toward her.

The girl was so busy trying to figure this boy out that one day, quite involuntarily, she woke up and instead of the lost boy, or those better boys, or space, or peace, she was contemplating him. She would contemplate him when she worked. She would contemplate him when she dreamed. He confused everything that she thought made her up.

Funnily enough, he also made everything better. She started to laugh a lot more. She started to see his light in her dark. Hearing his noise in her peace made things exciting again. His ridiculousness brought humour to her sensibilities. His beauty made her want to be better.

Quite unwittingly, the girl had started to change her universe. Quite unwittingly, the Opposite Boy had saved her. Quite unwittingly, she was happy.
-----------

These days, I am quite content being in love with a boy who lurks in the fringes of my universe but really, has no business being there. Who he is or what or where or how this will pan out...I really can't say. He is difficult to explain even to myself. Hell, he is difficult to understand as it is. Why though, the Whys I can explain. He makes me happy. The kind of happy that doesn't need anything that you think you need to make you happy. The kind of happy that makes your happiness infectious, allows you to make other people happy, to want it for everyone else. The kind of happy that makes you want to be better, stronger and consequently, I believe, makes you love in the truest sense.

And for that alone...please, let this and us (the boy and the girl) be. 

------------END------------

How to be Happy (and Single)

I apologise...I have been rather intermittent in my blog posts. And no, it's not because I stopped being single. Or that I got caught by some buff Korean boy and disappeared. Very much the opposite. I am still very much the single girl. So fret not, I still have reason to continue this blog. Heehee.

I wrote sometime back that maybe the reason I am a happy single is because I never set myself up with the expectation that I would NOT be single later in life. I also wrote that the secret to being single is to have an I-Bf (Imaginary Bf) which works, but only for those brave enough to admit to being nut-jobs :)

But I've given it some thought. There IS a way to be happy and be alone. So here's how it has worked (in the past year or so) for me.

1) Love. 
Believe in it. Find it wherever you can. In your family, in your friends, in religion, in the things that make you up. If you start to understand what Love is, in the biggest sense of the word, then you will find that you are never really alone and that if it is in your life, in any form, you can't be unhappy.

2) Like what you do.
It's simple. If you're sitting in an office hating every hour that goes by in a job you can't stand, evidently you'll be wishing twice as hard for someone to whisk you away to something, anything else to preoccupy yourself with. Find something you're good at, do it well, and you'll find it hard not to be satisfied.

3) Have faith.
Everything will work out. You'll see. Believe that things will be ok. With or without a man. With or without a partner. Have some faith that you're good enough for you.

4) Go places. 
See the world. There's so much of it anyway. The more people you meet, the more amazing adventures you go on, the more stories you will tell. Witnessing how hard or wonderful it is the way others live will teach you that finding one true life partner may not be the answer to all things and that soulmates come in many shapes and sizes.

5) Fun, fun, fun.
Above all, the real secret to being happy and single? Have a ton of FUN. Enjoy your life as it is. Don't regret, don't hesitate, go forth and enjoy yourself...Laugh. Whatever situation you may find yourself in, whatever heartbreak, get over it, laugh it off...if you're dancing your way through, someone just might dance with you.

How it's done in Seoul

So here's a baffling one...

While partying in Seoul, what happens is some big buff not too ugleh dude (because most dudes in S.Korea aren't ugly anyway) comes up from behind, engulfs me in a big bear hug, gives me a pat on the head a few times and then off he goes. That's it. Not a word, not a dance, not a smile. Bear hug, pat on head, byebye.
Mind you, Korean dudes are respectful enough not to let their fingers roam even when you are trapped in the clutches of their big buff milky white arms.

Baffled, I asked a male Seoul-ite friend and apparently, that's how it's done. Bear hug to letcha know he's erm... THERE, pat on the head to letcha know he thinks you're cute and then that's it. Up to you to pick up on the game. Except I was in too much shock horror to respond in any appropriate fashion other than to shout "OMG WTF IS GOING ON?"

Now I wonder, is this behaviour appropriate if done the other way round? If say, erm, someone I know might want to run up to a pretty boy and try engulfing him in a bearhug and pat his head? And if so, can we adopt it in less forward Asian shores?

Template of a Love Letter

For those of you who ever find yourselves at a loss .... here's a template where you can fill in the brackets yourselves.

Dear you,


Before, I didn't know you. I didn't know anything about you. I didn't know your face, your name, where you came from, what you did, who you were. 


I didn't know
The way you .... (walk, with slight misstep like a little boy)
Or that.... (silly face you pull when you stick your tongue out)

I hadn't memorised
your .... (fingers and the way they bend slightly backwards)
or your .... (spine and how it curves when you hunch over your late night work)


I hadn't counted on
the sound of .... (your voice - distinct, lilted, safe)
or the way you .... (wear your head - crazy hair, slight frown, preferably with hat)


It wasn't etched in my mind
your .... (silhouette, standing in the rain as you watch me leave)
or that .... (line on your cheek I like to trace)


There wasn't space for...
your .... (history - how it grounds you)
or the way you .... (place your hand on the small of my back)


Before...I did not know you. 


Not one thing about you.
 
But now...here it is. I know all about you.
And my love, how wonderful...
That all I know now, is you.

Ode to the Good Girl

It is becoming increasingly clear that good girls are hard to come by and sadly for the good girl, she gets dismissed even when she is ever present. I want to celebrate the good girl. The one you missed. The girl who is right in front of you but whom you simply look past. The one that you know is good for you but don't really want. The girl whom you think you're too good for. The girl whom you think is too good for you. I want to celebrate the girl who is more real than anyone else you know. The good girl.

*Dedicated to all the single, fabulous, good girls I know :)

WHY YOU SHOULD FIND A GOOD GIRL...

>> She is real. The good girl doesn't seem to flit around a daydream. She is in your face, she is vocal, she isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. She doesn't have time to play up to a fantasy because she is here, she is now and she is present.

>>She has heart. What I mean is, she has a good heart. At the base of it all, the good girl cares more about things than she lets on. She wants to save the world and you to help her do it.It is not her that you need to save.
>> She is animated. The girl you see isn't afraid of showing her feelings. She will tell you if she likes you or that she is sad or happy. The good girl feels and acts, sometimes on impulse but at least you will always know that she is a red-blooded, living, breathing person. 

>> She is happy. She likes to make the most out of life and she won't shy away from making a fool out of herself or to celebrate all the wonderful things that make her happy. She will laugh at life and she will make you laugh.

>> She is strong. Which is why most probably you never really gave her the time of day. The good girl will pick up the pieces not fall to pieces. We all know boys want girls they feel the need to save and unfortunately, the good girl doesn't need that because she's been too busy building a life not ruining one.

>> She won't break your heart. Chances are, it's the good girl who will be the one who will stand by you and fight your battles with you...loyal to the end. Chances are, she will be the one left behind when you decide to move on. And, chances are, she'll be the one with the broken heart.

So give the good girl a chance, guys...They might be the best thing that could happen to you.

Reading and Dating

Read a rather lovely post today, HERE:

Why You Should Date A Girl Who Reads 

Which got me thinking about how we spend our time....when you're single and really have nothing better to do,  it really comes down to two things doesn't it?

Reading...

and

Dating.

Lately, because I've been working so much (both mentally, emotionally, and for the most part physically) I haven't had time to do either. Which I suppose has led to the rather sad neglect of this blog.

I used to be a girl who read. Really, I read a lot. At least 2 books a week! But now I can't even be bothered to pick up my juicy copy of Grazia (the best guilty pleasure EVER) and as for dates...nada. An FSG (Fellow Single Girl) said to me the other day, she can't remember the last time she'd been on a proper date. I thought back to the last time it was for myself...and I think I stopped trying to recall after it reached more than 1 year back. Which brings me to being roped into the horror of horrors that is Speed Dating. Yes, folks, I shall venture forth into the world of speed dating. Please someone tell me if this is a good or bad idea. I don't know. I'm scared. But also, I think it will be REALLY funny.

And as for reading,  is there a speed dating equivalent of reading? I'd really like to be considered a reader again...for want of nothing else, to get me back to being a girl people would want to date. Nyak nyak.

Why Virgins Are In

A virgin. No, REALLY.

The lack of good specimens in our vicinity has started to grate on us Happy Single Girls. (in more ways than one, I'll have you know...hurhurhur) Which has set us on a path to look for greener, fresher, riper....pastures.Unfortunately we have come up short. Men in our vicinity are either taken or too dirty. It really has come down to those two categories. Taken or Too Dirty.

Men in our vicinity... and why they aren't options:
Specimen #1: Cayenne Client
Well he's sort of the right age, drives not one but TWO Porche Cayennes (kaching!), is well spoken and well dressed...
Verdict: Too Dirty (he also happens to voice out his desire to see you dressed as a mermaid in very public very serious meetings and can't control himself if you wear a low cut top)

Speciment #2: Nice Bone Structure
He is lovely really. Nice guy, nice cheekbones, nice voice...nice nice. And cool too. Cool friends, cool style, cool house.
Verdict: Taken ( by an equally nice girl with probably cooler friends and cooler clothes...*pout*)

Specimen #3: Sport Supahstar
Hot, sexy, young, makes a pretty decent living....Oh, and famous. Did I mention Hot, Sexy AND Famous?
Verdict: Too Dirty (To be expected of a hot, sexy, famous and young boy I suppose.  Too many skankyhobagalots where he's dipped his famous marker pen into)

Which brings us to wish and hope for the one thing that isn't taken or dirty....
The virgin.
At least...with them...you're guaranteed some form of cleanliness and since the skankyhobagsalots haven't gotten to them yet, they are single and ripe for the picking.

Need we say more?

Year of the Number 1

My I-Bf, TOP

Happy New Year folks! 
I declare 2011 officially as the Year of the Number 1. Singledom reigns this year and I for one am undaunted. I think I can safely say I have never been happier as a single and I have to say, this is all due to the fact I have found the secret to being so...well, damn happy.

The answer folks is simple...an Imaginary Boyfriend. Yes yes...I found myself one. I always dreamed of Imaginary Husbands but an Imaginary Boyfriend is so much more fun. Husbands, albeit imaginary require some degree of commitment but I-Bfs require no such loyalty. You can have him for as long as you want, flit between his friends, marry him some days...dump him on others for other obsessions...Splendid arrangement really.

Why I Love My Imaginary Boyfriend (I-Bf) 

>> He is handsome. 
(Obviously when choosing the I-Bf you probably want to go with someone who makes your mind go blank at the mere sight of his face.) My I-Bf has been declared the Hottest Man in Korea 2011, so we know his beauty is palpable. This also ensures that there is no shortage of his image in every imaginable pose being thrown at you on a nearly daily basis.


>> He is a superstar. 
This is the I-Bfs most important quality. He needs to be so famous that there are always people out there happy to document his every move and activity for your viewing pleasure. The more famous and stalked he is the better for me I say. It feels as if I'm REALLY part of his life because I know his schedule better than say I know my own.

>> He has cool friends. 
I'm lucky. My I-Bf has a bunch of friends just as famous or probably more famous than he is and all are just as pretty as he. It's important because should you tire of your I-Bf, here are his friends to distract you while you take your time out from your beloved. Sometimes, I cheat on my I-Bf with his best friends...It's okay. Having an I-Bf allows you to do that. He will never know.

>> He makes me laugh.
My I-Bf genuinely makes me laugh. Sometimes I'd remember some stupid thing he said or did and literally start guffawing. I'm again, lucky. It just so happens that my I-Bfs sense of humour really appeals to me and that he seems to have turned into a comedian of late. Of course, if you choose an I-Bf who happens to be a professional comedian, even BETTER!

>> What he does makes me happy.
He makes music that makes me happy. So you laugh, what happened to the indie girl who listened to proper, interesting music? Here's what I have to say...if it makes you feel like dancing, feel like a champ, feel like laughing, feel like having fun? It's good for you.

>> He is available on request. (And unavailable when you ask him to piss off)
Probably the best thing about an I-Bf, really. Conjure him up when you need him most and forget about him when you've got better things to do. He doesn't complain. And you never have to put up with any of his negative traits. (except maybe his being TOO goodlooking and your having to read comments by hobagskankysluts who want to do rather unmentionable things to him).

>> My friends approve of him.
Who wouldn't though? Some of my friends even indulge me as much as to have I-Bfs of their own who happen to be his friends. This takes the imaginary relationships to the next level because it's as if your lives are all interlinked. Friends with I-Bfs of their own is a kewl thing. Just make sure you don't have the same I-Bf (which can happen more often than not) as your besties. That can be sticky. Luckily, my friends and I have vastly different tastes.

And there you have it. Why I am the happiest a single girl can be. It's quite simple. I highly recommend it.

And no, I haven't lost my marbles.

Ok, a bit. teehee.

Stories to consider

So I heard this story but it has to be told in the language I heard it in else some of its fantastic nuances...

Overheard:
Random person: So Dato', I heard you got a woman on the side.
Dato: Ye ke? Siapa kata?
RP: I knowla. You set her up with a place in London.
Dato': Ah, tulah.
RP: Who is she?
Dato: Does it matter?
RP: So how did you meet her?
Dato: Jangan hebohkan ye, kat email!
RP: You met her through email?
Dato: Ya she emailed me. Said she interested in me.
RP: So you started with her through that? How did you know what she was like?
Dato: Kan internet boleh send gambar?
RP: Oh so she sent you photos of herself.
Dato: Ya ya. You wanna know why I started the affair?
RP: Why?
Dato': Kan she sent gambar...I tengok. Wah bes, Tektek BESAR!

And there you have it folks...The reason men choose to have affairs. Mind you, this Dato's wife is a very classy, beautiful woman of substance. But obviously, not with a rack that can compete for her husband's attention....

Translations: 
Dato': Malaysian term for a dignitary position
Ye ke, siapa kata? : Really? Who said?
Tulah: I see.
Jangan hebohkan: Don't spread it around
Gambar: Picture/Photo
Tengok: See/Saw
Wah bes, tektek BESAR: Wow, great! BIG TITS!

Erm..PS.

Thought I'd just say....while I've been congratulating myself and posting about someone who finally makes me happy....the truth is, well, TECHNICALLY...I'm still very much, single.
HAHAHA HOOHOO HEEHEE *maniacal laughter*

I prefer to refer to myself as "Single but Taken"."Mentally Married". "Availably Unavailable"

Although this may seem slightly insane, I assure you I am perfectly, if not a little kooky, sane.

And although this may be a very strange way of finally attaining the impossible, I am actually still very much single and actually the happiest I have ever been as a single.
Let's be honest, when I started this blog, I was pretty angry..incredulous really hence, the vent outlet.
Later on, when I was sort of on my way to being alright, I started to get jealous of girls and went all insane (but funnily I might add) and ranted more.
For the most part, this blog was meant to be an outlet for me and my friends (FSGs) to commiserate. 

Right now though, most of my FSGs are happily loved up (with nice real boys) while others are super busy and don't have time to lament their singledom.

As for me, I'm very happily mentally married (to a real boy of course who just isn't physically here at the moment). A great state of mind to be in when you have great tasks at hand. Like for instance, making money.

The truth is, my infatuations allow me to be so loved up that I no longer have it in me to even despair at my reality of singleness. Which is fine by me and fine by those closest to me. But what I don't understand is, why others can't be happy for me when I am so clearly, finally, the happiest a single girl this side of a blog can be?

He Eats Chocolate Raisins

I think I owe you guys an explanation. Apparently I complain a lot on my blog. Some disgruntled boy seems to think so since he took so much offense to my simply pointing out (in jest of course) that white boys are over. Oh well, basically, this blog IS a place to complain. If you don't complain, there's basically nothing to write about. I find usually the best things to laugh about are the situations that get your panties in a twist. If you're happy, clappy, then you aren't wry or sarky or all that interesting to read.Simple, really.

So I've been neglecting my blog....And the only way I can explain it is, I guess is well, I don't have anything left to complain about....

---------------------------------------------
 A Letter to the Imaginary On Finding The Perfect Man....

Dear You,


I guess there never is a last letter that you write to the someone you've been pegging all your hopes, dreams and whatnots to since you could remember. So this isn't the last of course but it is a departure of sorts. I am writing to you, not to beg you or to lament the absence of you but rather, I write because I want to tell you how glad I am that you, for the time-being, do not need to exist. 


So what happened you ask? You see when I used to write to you, I lived in the fantasy that you may one day materialise into a real life boy. Someone whole and perfect and everything I had made you up to be. I needed to believe that you would save me from whatever it was that I was running from. I needed to believe that you would be there waiting for me. You just had to find me.


But then one day while I was wallowing in self-pity at having come up short of finding anyone that lived up to you...out of nowhere, I found him. 


I found him, just like I thought I would between the black and white. He was standing, quite predictably on the ocean's edge. In him I have found someone who simply makes me want very much to be a better version of myself. In his very existence I have found an immense relief. He is real. He lives and breathes. He has a name. He even has a dog. His voice is his own. He even dreams...big gorgeous dreams of wonderful tangible things. Our worlds, although so very far apart, collide in some places. That very fact, that we collide even on the thinnest string of fate, rejoices me. This is a cliche of the most basic sort but since him, from here on out, I will never be the same. Since him, a part of me will always be whole.

And so I guess, I will have no longer have a need for a figment of my imagination to fill in that gap.

La La La La

Sorry.
This blog has been seriously neglected.
I'll give you a few reasons...
The first being....I've been in love. Yeah. Really. So you can't rant much about being single when you're so blissfully infatuated.
The second being...I've had a break up. Yeah. Really. Same person I was in love with. Still am...
The third being....well the third being....
Fuck. Who cares?

Here you go...my reason or rather reasons for neglecting this blog.

Why White Boys Are Over

 It's official. White boys are over. 

When you live in an Asian country. Surrounded by hot Asian chicks who are mostly gung-ho on bagging themselves some pasty dude, it's time to look for greener pastures. Thank God, I've never been one to shy away from some mixed flavas myself. Teehee.

Why White Boyz are over:
1) Too pasty. (unless they're blessed with skin that tans well and makes them into Golden demiGods...the only Lobsters I wanna deal with are the ones in yummeh seafood restaurants).

2) Too douche-y. (having sniffed around a bunch of wifebeater-wearing, no-lense bespectacled, Fabio-esque 'douchays' last weekend, I decided that douches become UBER-douches when they're surrounded by naive Asian chicks who think they could be the Yokos to the Douche-y  'Oh-Nos')

3) Too stiff. (hurdehur. I mean, as in, white boys generally don't have smooth moves to go with the smooth grooves. I wouldn't go out dancing with a white boy unless of course, he's Wade Robson, Channing Tatum or Justin Timberlake...srsly now).

4) Too boring. (generally white boys tend to get fun only when they're drunk or on drugs. What happened to getting high on life, boyz? Also emo white boys and their emo music...PFFT.Only so much you can take.)

5) Too weak.(White boys in Asian countries? Weak. Can't eat hot curries. Can't smell a Durian. Can't take the boiling heat. Can't go to a squatting loo.Can't bribe the Popo. Can't whack back an angry Aunty...whiny whiny weak. Blech.)

So yeah, white boys are OVER. To all you SPGs (Sarong Party Girls) who are still adamant to taste some Brachwurst in the land of Sushis and Chilli, I wish you well, I wish you luck. For me at least, I'm going to shy away from my 'roots' and sample the delights of the Fusion tables. AK AK.

Sidenote: Saying this, my Mental Husband it has to be said, is undeniably white. So I am a hypocrite of sorts. But then, my mental husband has trekked the North AND South pole, owns basically the world AND has a tan that makes his look like a demi-God. Oh, and he's funny too. So, basically the rules don't apply to him, because he's perfect. Except, maybe, for being white. Hoohoo.

Playa...Puhleasseee!

Most men think we're stupid...or something. I mean, please give us *some* credit. We haven't lived this long, been through as much shit as we have, to be played by you (and in stupid ways too). Seriously. We are trains and not stations. We have places to be, things to do...we aren't your one stop joyride.

A few things Playas need to regonizzzzeee:

#1 >> Asking us to look at the moon at random times.
Playa, puhlease...every guy who wants to come off as sensitive and soulful has asked a girl to look at the moon. And you know what playa, we seen da moon, we've checked da moon, and it's DA SAME every time yo!

#2 >> Asking us to come over and listen to some music he made.
Playa, puhlease...we know this implies lying on his bed and being really impressed by his musical gifts and fine, if he has real talent this works. However, if he makes music that sounds like whale sounds or if he sits around playing the bongos...we're gonna tell it like it is. Byebye.

#3 >> After a night out when the mood is still high and you're not quite sure what next to do, he offers to come take you to a celebrity after party.
Playa, puhlease...It's cool if you want to impress a girl with your popularity and connections but we also know that the *real* after party you mean, is the 'after party at my body'.

#4 >> Pretend to be really concerned and try to help you get back the yoga lessons that you missed but already paid for.
Playa, puhlease...We're all for you being cute and super helpful and the fact that you prob have a hot body from all that yoga....BUT, we also know that you trawl yoga centres looking for fuck buddies. SEEN! eww.

#5 >> Tell you they feel intimidated by you because you're just so smart and they feel small around you.
Playa, puhlease...If you want a girl to feel as if she's smarter and more awesome than you, don't put yourself down because it doesn't make you look soft and in need of saving. It just makes you look wimpy n sad. Also, let it be known, we KNOW we're awesome. 'Nuff said.

Bang 'Em

One morning, I woke up and decided to wipe my slate clean. That is to say, the proverbial man-slate...I decided to give it a good scrub. What happened was...I found THEM:
 

Ladies and gentlemen...
Let me introduce...BIG BANG!
I've lost it. Totally lost it. Lovely K-Bois will be the death of this single girl. Fohshure!! It's so nice to wake up and think of nothing but lovely stalkable K-bois tho. Heehee Hoohoo Haahaa.

My preferences from Fav to Least Fav:
1) TOP
2) G-Dragon
3) Taeyang
4) Seungri

5) Daesung (I've neglected to include a photo of him because a) for some reason Blogger won't let me put him below TOP which is a NONO, and b) he's not cute to me anyway)

TOP!!!

G-DRAGON!

TAEYANG!Holy body moly!

 SEUNGRI aka VI

How I Failed At Being A Manic Pixie Dream Girl (MPDG)

I've been contemplating the MPDG. That's Manic Pixie Dream Girl to you. Who or what is she? Think Zooey Deschanel, think, Natalie Portman, think Holly Golightly. Yes folks, she's that crazy but seriously lovable, impossibly pretty breath of fresh air and bringer of light and hope to all those lovely Lost Boys.

Read more about the MPDG ...HERE

I've been thinking about her a lot. In fact, I've been thinking about her my whole life and I've figured that my whole life has led up to my failing at being the MPDG.

How I failed at becoming an MPDG...a step by step analysis:

STEP 1: I was ugly. I didn't start off being this impossibly pretty thing (well actually I did, I was a really pretty child if I do say so myself) but then braces, bad eyesight and a butch haircut happened. Also, there was a brief period where I did actually look like an old Chinese/Bhutanese peasant lady complete with permed frizz, scarf wrapped around my face and really pale reddish skin. Not good to the ego and certainly not good to be made acutely aware of your ugliness when you are supposed to be an unaffectedly beautiful MPDG. 

STEP 2: I got emo. When I sorted my 'petty pretty' troubles out (ie. straightened hair, learned the use of eye makeup & contact lenses), I decided to revamp myself into being a Grunge/Goth Chick and got all existential and emo and decided to stay indoors writing my own eulogies. 

STEP 3: I got too dreamy. I actually got really cool at one point and pretty much as close to a MPDG as I possibly could. I lived for nothing in a really cool really posh apartment with a big cat, I partied in all the cool places, I was quite artsy and frequented little record stores, went out with a DJ boy, I even had a cool hobby like writing poetry about people I saw on trains. Yeah! But...being so cool, I started to believe I was a MPDG a little bit TOO MUCH. To the point, I became so oblivious to the real world and decided that I was in fact a character in a film. In other words, the dream girl started to live IN the dream...not good.

STEP 4: I got busy. See, what happened was, I got a job. It was an impossibly cool one at that, but the thing about really cool jobs? You actually have to work to keep 'em. So I started to wake up from the dream and get practical. I didn't have much time to be flighty and carefree and was too tired to be manic.

STEP 5: I met a boy. Then obviously, I had to meet the Dream Boy. Oh you know, that boy lost girls dream about. Tall, beardy, funny, rode a bicycle, read books and played the guitar. So I became the boring girl who had the Dream Boy breath life into my boring life. Figures.

STEP 6: I got angry. Yeah, MPDGs are happy, fun loving people. I on the other hand, wanted very much to put my fist through a wall at any given moment. MPDG + Anger management issues = Plain ol' crazy bitch. 

STEP 7: I got real. Decidedly, I sort of realised that I couldn't ever compete with an MPDG nor could I be one. So I decided that if I couldn't be any boy's dream girl, then I had to be my own dream girl. As in, I'd take steps to becoming the sort of girl I dreamt about becoming. And I realised that that girl, wasn't some flighty, manic ingenue...she was someone who wanted very much to do more with her life. A girl with a plan. A girl who actually helped the people that needed help... So I worked and am working on becoming that instead.

And there you have it. How I failed at being the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Failing though, made me realise I didn't want to be some sad writer boy's fantasy. I wanted to be my own dream girl. The girl who lives her OWN dreams, becomes somebody SHE wants to be.

So to all you fabulous women who have failed at being an MPDG or are in competition with one, don't you worry. You can be a dream girl. It just depends on whose dreams you want to live/be. And hey, being a Real Girl just means you've got more chances with REAL Men. Heehee. ;)

Russian Doll Situations

It's all very well to have an imaginary husband but you know, imaginary marriages do come with their own set of issues. Here are some of the issues that one encounters with an imaginary hubby.

>> People are always assuming that you are single.

>> Setting aside actual time to spend with your husband and having to justify spending a Friday night in being antisocial.

>> You can't bite his buns.

>> Conversations with him make you look like a crazy person.

>> Imaginary distractions such as pale, blonde, 1000 year old sex on legs vampires and scandalous sexy indie band frontmen.

>> You don't get to spend much time with your imaginary children.

>> Rogue unicorns.

The Unicorn Under Your Bed

I was reading a tranny's blog when I found myself suddenly in a flutter of panic. This 'tranny' (who isn't really a tranny but a real girl who, try as I might can't be convinced ISN'T one) was getting more action than I'd ever seen this side of the Old Mother Hubbard cupboard.

Pages and pages went on about her past relationships and her potential conquests and knowing that these aren't particular gnomes or trolls of men got me wondering, wow, what does this tranny have that I don't have...subsequently, I thought to myself, OMG, Has it finally come to this? Am I, the last happy single girl, so desperate that I am in competition with a tranny?

To gather my wits about me, I started to make a list of why I am more awesome than this 'tranny'..Call it the Perfect Girl List. I suggest anyone who finds themselves feeling down and feeling jealous of either zit infested sluts, overweight hobags or well, ambiguous She-men, should make their own Perfect Girl list.

Happsgirl's Perfect Girl List:
(alternatively: Reasons I Am Perfect and A Billion Zillion Times More Awesome Than A Tranny List)

1) People don't generally get a fright when they see my face.
2) I have class. This is because I was not raised a hobag and I haven't been caught sucking someone's balls in the toilet of a really seedy club somewhere along a highway (a story that I KNOW is true for some). 
3) I am pretty smart and I don't pretend to be smart. I always own up when I don't know what the hell people are talking about.
4) I know who I am. None of this I'm lost and need to be saved business unless of course, you're Eric Northman and you need to protect me from your big 'bad' sexy self. Teeheeheehee.
5) Literatti Glitteratti.
6) I can be quite funny. Like, some people have told me I can be TOO funny. Yah yah, like I can talk about farting quite a lot.
 7) I am happy. As in it takes quite little to make me laugh. Like, for instance, 'HERE'S A PUG!'...and I start laughing. See? Easy.
8) I am not precious. I am perfectly capable of cleaning toilets and ironing my own clothes.I don't whine a lot. This is because I was raised by a mother who told me there is nothing tackier than a woman who doesn't wash her own underwear.
9) I like what I do. My job inspires me and I like to think I inspire other people. I secretly also think my job validates me as being better than most people. HAHA.
10) And this is very important, I am better than a 'tranny' because...I do not hide unicorns under my bed.

Disclaimer: This post is not intended to be derogatory to any real trans-gender women. The term 'tranny' here is simply being used as a derogatory term for women I have little respect for. I think real trans-gender women are a lot more awesome than the type of women I brand 'trannies' and for whom I originally intended this list for. 

On Love.

Let me tell you something. Up until not so many years ago, I didn't know what Love was. I couldn't say I knew what it was because, I really wasn't sure. I had not felt it, and I was pretty sure I did not receive it. I didn't witness Love. I thought, maybe Love was just something that happened in fairytales. That Love which makes the world go round, where was it? WHAT was it? I didn't know.

Then one day, I experienced grief. The sort of grief that makes you feel as if you would give up your own life just to make sure someone else got to experience the stuff they missed out on. Grief that makes you realise how fragile your universe is and how much you were willing to give up in the place of someone else. Knowing just how much you're willing to give up was the first component of love I learnt.

Later on, I experienced loss. Not the kind of loss that makes you grieve but the kind of loss that makes you always search for something because you'll never feel quite complete again. When you lose something that made you feel complete, you realise that the thing that made you whole was also a component that made you love.

Later on still, I experienced disappointment and regret which led to disarray. Feeling as if your whole world is crumbling makes you hold on to the things that matter most. I realised from this, Love doesn't always have to apply to the things you thought it applied to. Love was bigger than that.

Recently, I experienced loss again. It is strange to lose someone you thought never loved you. Never figured in your life much. Was always thought of with resentment. Someone whom you were told you should love but whom you couldn't love because you didn't quite know how to. Someone you didn't know how to love because you weren't sure they even wanted your love.

Then one day, that person is gone. Just like that. And you go through the motions of trying to grieve, to mourn, cry a little but you can't because you're still unsure if you love or were loved at all. All there is, is space and you don't really know what to do with that space.

But then it hits you. When you're standing in a room of people who were never quite sure if they were ever loved by this one person and yet there they were, filling up the room and filling up the space, when you watch them mourn something they're not even sure about...it hits you.

It's about filling the sudden space that gets left behind. It is understanding, that after all the wrongs done unto you, that you're still here, and they aren't and that your life is yours and in order to leave something behind, you must be good and kind and grateful to those who make you up. You must Love. Because it is the only thing worthwhile that you can leave behind.

And so I think, after all this, I finally found out what Love is. Love isn't about writing it down or saying it. Love isn't about expression. Love isn't even about feeling tingly or having people in your thoughts. Real Love, the Love that transcends everything else and makes your time on earth worthwhile, that Love...is a verb that fills up space.

On How It Was Supposed To Be & Thereafter

Well, it's been freakin' 27 years and the way I reckon it should be hasn't happened. The way I thought it worked was, you grow up, you make friends and then one day, some really nice, decent, intelligent person bumps into you on a street and you realise that your whole life led up to him anyway. He'd get you, you'd get him, you'd have fun together, and one day, he'd ask you to marry him. 

 

You buy a house, you have children with him and your life would entail seeing your children grow up, making sure they become good people, having a laugh with him and growing old together. You'd start bickering and fighting of course, you'd even resent him sometimes and need your time outs from each other...you'd seek comfort in your work and your friends. But at the end of the day, you and he have built a home together, the two of you would be what your children see as 'home'. At the end of the day, you'd see him through to the end and so will he. That's how it's supposed to be. It's how I've been raised to believe it will be.

You're supposed to have one big love. Well, at least, I am. And I'm supposed to have met him by now. It was in the plan. I was supposed to know when I met him.

But then I met you. And you were kind and decent, smart, you made me laugh and, you were my friend. And I thought, this would be easy...if I knew, then you'd know too. We'd know that our lives led up to one another. We were supposed to fall in love. Have a laugh together. And one day, you would've married me and there was this bright beautiful future that we were supposed to have together. Yeah, that would've been nice.

Anyway, you didn't love me back. You couldn't. Why? Your life didn't lead you up to me. It wasn't fated. It was simple. How I knew was that when you looked into my eyes, you looked past me. At someone else, who would be waiting for you. You didn't love me. It was simple and cruel of course. How could the person I was meant to be with not love me?  I wasn't prepared for that. It was supposed to be easy.

So what now? It's been awhile...I ran away when I knew fate had dealt me a cruel hand. My gripe is, I didn't even believe in The One. I thought there'd be a few...THREE at least! But since you, I've been waiting around. I've been waiting for someone whom my life really led up to. But yet another night of waiting around ensues and I've lost what little hope I had left in me to keep waiting. So I don't hope anymore. And I try not to be bitter because of you. I try to imagine you happy and I try to be the bigger person to be happy for you. And sometimes, when I hear or see you laugh, I genuinely can be happy for you.

And to answer the question of how you get over the one person whom you thought would finally make you whole? Well, you don't really. You never really get over that person. But what you can do is move past them. There's a sort of joyous numb you feel when you wake up one day and they aren't the first thing you think about. It takes time of course, it takes other people too. People who act as distractions. People who make you happy in other ways. A pet maybe.A dog you love so unconditionally and irrevocably because she loves you unquestionably and makes you laugh again.

You work toward becoming the person you want to be. You travel and you watch the way the world works. You wish happiness on others. You live out of yourself because the person inside has been so sad it's best if you kept her away for awhile. But you live. You be free. You start to breath again. And after awhile, you're sort of okay.

But that's just me. I've stopped waiting. He will come if he's meant to come along...that next person. And if not, I think it's okay to be the way that I am. I am less whole, less hopeful, less of what I thought I would be, but I am also here. And that's something you know, that I'm still here.