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?

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. 

Another Nutty Post

Korean Beach House on Jeju Island

Alright. Let me just go right ahead and say it. 

I've spent the past 3 days feeling sorry for myself and holing up at home watching Korean love dramas. 

The funny thing about love dramas is that, they suck you into believing that the story is yours. That maybe, you're the one that has lived this. That you want, more than anything else, to have a happy ending. 

And so, in some twisted corny way, I want to live happily ever after in a house by the sea with a handsome, tanned Korean man for whom I can make bibimbap for. 

This is now the new dream. 

But the new dream does not allow for any of reality to seep in. Before, when the dream was a scruffy but posh boy who read books and played the guitar, it allowed for reality. I *could* meet that tall boy who worked in a bookshop.

But I can't meet a handsome Korean model/guy who lives in beach house. Why? Because I would probably have to buy tickets to a Rain concert in Seoul for that to happen. And in any case, the only Korean I know are side dishes to Korean BBQ. Oh and another thing, I look about as Korean as a Swiss roll. 

Life is unfair. I was told to look East for the man of my dreams. I did. But nobody told me the man of my dreams will only exist on the TV screen.  

In The Sky With Diamonds

One of the reasons I started this blog was to remind myself, and others like yourself, that maybe being single isn't so bad. Saying that, I would still like the picket fence and that whole soulmate thing, if it's there for the taking. Unfortunately, with prospects looking bleak, that isn't much of an option at the moment.

In all seriousness, due to the sudden realisation of how old I am getting, I've started wondering about what I would settle for in a bid to not be alone for the rest of my life.

And the answer is this: I wouldn't.

People in all shapes and sizes have encouraged me, at the start of this year to be open to options. "Don't be the stuck up closed off weirdo you always are, Happsgirl...", "Give people a chance Happsgirl." "Please stop having all these high expectations, Happsgirl"...
and I tried...I really did. I started exploring my options. I even tried to give up my crushes in a bid to be open to new prospects. I went to a fortune teller. I started wondering about existing male acquaintances...I questioned myself and what I would want a LOT.

Then it hit me one night while I was reading a magazine and stumbled across a picture I couldn't tear my eyes away from. It was this incredibly normal looking man who painted flowers...and he seemed like the most beautiful thing I've ever come across. What I realised is this:

I'd rather be alone than end up settling on my dreams.

I don't want just anybody. I've made it thus far alright living and being alone. If I can't have what I want, I don't want anything (or anybody) at all.
Call me an idiot but I believe in that one time violent thing that happens to you. I believe in Fate and Serendipity. I believe that Love is supposed to come along and sweep you away. I believe in a beautiful boy who may save me. I believe in someone who will see me completely. I believe in a fantasy.

And people used to be able to say, "Oh, that will never happen...He doesn't exist...You're dreaming of a character"...
And I used to believe them. I used to think that someone who blurred the lines between fantasy and reality didn't exist.

But then I met him.
And sure, he wasn't everything I conjured up in my fantasies. But he was beautiful. And meeting him was sheer chance. And for a splendid moment there, he saw me.

I knew that if he could exist, so could all my other ideals of Love.

So I think I'll pass. Pass on the people who aren't meant for me. Pass on all the people who just
'aren't'. They aren't what I want. It's as simple as.
And if I have to settle for what I don't want, I think I would be happier having nothing.

Bad Honey Orange Mocha Frap

Update:

- Pseudo-Crush is no longer a pseudo-crush. Seeing as, he turned out to be, oh, just as VAPID as someone who drives a ******* and calls himself **** ***** and who only dates models can be. 

- My gay husband refuses to go on a date with me. So my status as Hag No.1 is quickly diminishing...

- Ridic has been spotted working out at the gym near my house. Hallelujah! I am not signed up to that gym. Booyah :(

- A male friend told me I'm exactly the kind of girl guys are looking for. Score! But as for himself, he wouldn't date me. Huh?

- Men in general are being super rude to me. 

In conclusion...as of January 2010, men are all idiots. 

Ye Of Little Faith

You can't rely on men for anything. Seriously. 

You can't rely on them to offer help when you need it most.

You can't rely on them to feel better about yourself.

You can't rely on them to hold doors open for you.

You can't rely on them to be polite.

You can't rely on them to marry you.

You can't rely on them to look after themselves for you.

Hmph. You can't even rely on them to be nice for you for oh, I don't know 5 seconds. 

But that's just me, over the last few days, I've noticed that all the men around me are either simply un-dependable. 

The Fucken Absence of a Green Dot

I had an epiphany tonight. Nobody is 'available' anymore. Seriously. Just look at your MSN friend list and you'll realise that everyone is either 'Busy' or 'Away' or 'Out To Lunch'. The dots are hardly ever green.

Nobody is available even when they say they are. I'm talking about being available in the wider sense obviously. Nobody is single and available. Just ask around, look around...are there any men who are single and available and NOT desperate? NOOOOOOO. Which is shitty shit shit.

Really...nobody is available in the widest sense. Not my crush...Ridic (he's not available because he's hooked up with some poor girl he's only dating for her virginity so I heard...yes yes yes, he's an asshole..whatever), not my long time TV crush Greg on CSI, not gay Wentworth Miller, not the cute guy I saw the other day in the carpark, not the male model I stalk on Facebook, not any of my old crushes (fuckadoodle doo most of them are married), not even my pseudo-crush Mr.White (who tells me he's got some HO sitting next to him while he flirts with me), not my secret pedophilic crush (teehee whom I brushed by the other day but fuckadingdong he's hooked up with some old crow like 15 years his senior)...etc.etc.

Fucken hell, NOBODY is available. They all seem to be when you meet them but then it's all like, hey, I got a fucken mail order bride waiting for me at home, or some German HO up my sleeve, or like oh, I'm fucken married to some foul-mouthed psycho Vietnamese ho, or like, oh, I have a crush on a tranny, or like, I'm an asshole fucktard who isn't available to anyone or anything but my dick...

So screw you unavailable people! I'm fucken gonna be unavailable too. I'll have a fucken RED DOT next to my name. BU-SY.
Girls girls, seriously...it's better to pretend to be unavailable because these days, having a green dot next to your name apparently spells LO-SER. Yah yah...What hope do we have ah?

I Picture You Beautiful

I picture you as beautiful.
Lying in the grass, face toward the sky, light in your hair, rolled up checked shirt sleeves...your eyes closed, your lips curled into a smile, your fingers playing with blades of grass...I picture you there, propped on your elbows and beautiful, beside me.

It is the last complete memory I have of you. Like a faded photograph, folded and yellow and torn at the sides, I take out to look at from time to time.

You are supposed to lose someone, mourn the loss of them, move past it and wake up one day and finally be happy again. That happened.

But nobody tells you that one night you might be walking along, feel a breeze, look up at the sky and suddenly in that perfect moment, have a rogue memory that makes your breath stop short.

I don't understand how you forget that this was the one that made you the person you are today. That every other person that comes after is compared and contrasted against him. I don't understand how you become the person that was before him. How do you revert back?

Do you forget that someone like him exists? Do you erase him completely? How do you tear up that one perfect picture you have of him in your memory box that escapes from time to time? I want to revert back. I want to backspace to the part that came before him. How the hell do I do that?

Cowering in a Corner

In a conversation with PoPots, I have come to the conclusion that we fear lots. When it comes to mens' appearances, that is.
eg. Popots: I have a general fear of fat men.
Happsgirl: I ran as far as possible when a short man talked to me.

We realise we're being shallow of course, but we also decided that we're not going to be apologetic about it. When I asked around, I realise that almost everyone has a baseless fear when it comes to men's appearances.

There is a fear of bald men...A fear of men with BO (I think this applies to all of us)... The fear of hairy men...Heebie-jeebies around men who are TOO hairless... A fear of skinny men...We fear of overly tall men...Fear of men with big teeth...the fear of sweaty men...Men who have long fingernails make us run a mile...we cower from men with bad breath...and even the fear of beautiful men.

I myself am really put off by short men...I can't understand being attracted to someone who is shorter than me (I'm 5'4). I think 5'4 is seriously the shortest a man can go. When I can see over the top of your head, it sends a chill down my spine. It's like my fear of lizards...completely baseless and irrational but it is no doubt a fear.

I've put down these fears to simple survival code. We don't want to see in our partners or potential partners what we see as flaws in ourselves. I'm short and have always resented that fact. So I cower from shorties and have an imaginary height requirement bar of 5'10.

So fess up, what do you fear?

Till Death Do Us Wrong

So we were exchanging horror stories and I have to say this is the worst:

A friend of a friend had a problem with her *private area* and decided that she needed to go to the doctor to find out if the itch was an STD.

So she goes in for the test and comes back a couple of days later for the results. When she reaches the doctor's office, the doctor is standing there with two police officers. This is when she is informed that there was something in her test results that needed police investigation.

She then gets told that her *itch* is caused by a certain type of worm. *bleurgh* And that worm can only be found in dead bodies.

The question now is, how did a worm from a dead body enter this fine woman's nether regions?

Hence the police being there, because something NASTY must be going on...

What it turned out to be was, this woman's boyfriend worked in a mortuary. And well, he was having a jolly good time with some of these dead bodies. Eww.

And what he did was, bang a corpse, failed to wash his kukuchiao and came back and banged his unfortunate gf.

So the police picked him up for necrophilia.

But the most amazing part about this story is...after the whole incident...the biggest question on the girl's lips was...'Err, I don't know if I should break up with him.'

WTF.

That's what you call mortally stupid.

Standards My Dear

When you're single, and you haven't hooked up with the next man on the street, people will start telling you to lower your standards. "Please don't be so picky" they'll say. Why isn't the next man on the street good enough for you? Must lower your standards, give people a chance...etc.

But here's my gripe. Why should we lower our standards? Here are some questions I ponder when I think about lowering my standards...

# Why is it that wanting just a normal guy who isn't insane, is decent looking, has a job and can string a proper sentence together considered such a high standard?

# How come it's only the people who are hooked up with the most super-duper men that ask me to lower my high standards?

# Why is it that even when I do lower my standards, I unwittingly find out the object of my affection turns out to be amongst many things....a member of royalty, a Ferarri owner, a genius rock star?

# Does lowering my standards mean that the level that I deem worthy for myself is really out of my league? Am I really that unworthy of a high standard?

Yah, yah...so I have to wonder, why does there have to BE a standard at all? I mean, I seriously don't think some halfway intelligent dude who smells good and isn't clinically insane is asking too much.

And here's another thing, if you're not picky, and you end up being beaten or hurt or simply left high and dry by some asshole, why is it then that people say, oh he's a bad egg, why did you let him into your life in the first place?

Seriously now, having standards isn't a bad thing. At least not for me. And if it means being alone for a little while longer, so be it.

Upset Tummy

Isn't it ironic? A Queen is ruining my life.
I have been suffering from a constant upset tummy because of a Queen.

Everybody who hailed the Queen should really be shot.

I'm sad. The happy single girl is really sad. Help. Help me kill the Queen.

Ways in which I have fantasised about killing the Queen:
- Pop her like a balloon.
- Run her over with a steamroller.
- Enrol her in Biggest Loser and tell them to make her run on a treadmill till she gets a heart attack.
- Hope she gets filled with helium and floats away.
- A bigger Queen bitch slaps her into the ground.
- A scary man named Bubba makes her his playtoy.
- Someone accidentally shoots her with a tranquilizer gun and sells her off for money.

How do you run from a Queen who thinks she rules the world?

How To Spot A Rotten Egg

Courtesy of L-Pots who has been ON FIRE lately. I love this post and I love the person who wrote it more...Here's to spotting the bad from the good.

We don't set out to get heartbroken. Men who have broken us are men we thought were the good stuff. How do we tell the good ones from the bad?

How to detect a rotten egg?

1) First of all, have a set of level headed friends (which I'm thankful for) who will tell you when you go wrong.

2) If you hear of rumours about your possible/future/intended/current man, be wary. Clarifying rumours with him is one thing. Believing his explanation is another.

3) If your friends do not like him and you have to tell yourself that your friends do not know him as well as you do and therefore they misunderstand, be wary. Your popot is doing the thinking here.

4) If he ever uses the line, "I didn't think you needed to know because you would only get paranoid", be wary. It's not for him to decide what you need to know.

5) If you feel inadequate being with him.

6) Do not assume ugly men will make good boyfriends/husbands/partners. Bad men come in all shapes and sizes.

7) If he is forever declaring his love for you in private but not introducing you to his friends - Bad egg.

8) If he feels the need to hide the relationship due to 'circumstances' - Double bad egg.

9) If he has a bad history. 10 girlfriends in less than a year. Watch out. We are not THAT special to change a man. We may be able to clench our popot walls during sex but we don't practise witchcraft, do we?

10) If he says, "I've never felt this way before...". Of course he hasn't. Each relationship is different. Your relationship with your mother is different from your relationship with your father.

I say being single is great. Being in a relationship with a good man is great too. We just need to fish the good ones out.

It's In The Cards

I had a tarot reading yesterday and all was well right up until it came to the reading about my Love life. If you happen to have these things happen to you in the course of a week, then it's time to stay away from the dating game (at least for now):

#1 Your tarot reading tells you that there will be guys coming your way in the near future, however, the next card that you get is a dead man with 5 swords in his back.

#2 You're falling asleep at 10pm reading the scariest book a woman can read (The Game by Neil Strauss)

#3 Every new person you meet might put you at risk of the H1N1 virus aka Swine Flu. (better stay at home, if you go into crowded places, wear a mask - also not the best accessory for dating..unless u're into weird dating)

#4 You dream that you grow into a 40 something year old escort who takes fat old white men out dancing.

#5 Your family members start to think you're 'loose woman' because your FB updates have started to suggest you're getting up to too many *tricks*

the wrong kind of men

i’ve decided to compile a list of horror stories my sisters, girlfriends, gay friends and i went through with men. feel free to add on.

do note that all these are different men and they’re still roaming the earth so be careful if you meet them!

- the one who had a long distance relationship and cheated on her and continued cheating when she went back. she caught him kissing another girl in the sea and later slapped him three times until his mouth bled. he raised his hand to return the slap but was held back by his friends.

- the one who was with the guy for five years and ignored rumours about him being bi-sexual despite the rampant stories. in the end, he broke up with her to find himself (i.e. be gay).

- the one who was born and bred in singapore but has a strange twangy foreign accent and felt the need to podcast about it.

- the one who had a baby with her and relentlessly cheated on her again and again.

- the one who held a cleaver to her neck when she wanted to leave the house and started to stalk her, hack into her email and created fake social networking accounts. the police were called in and she now has a restraining order against him.

- the one who forced her to do acts against her own will in hotel 81.

- the one who ruined most of her birthday by ignoring her and not wanting to acknowledge that it was a special day for her.

- the one who ran away into the arms of another woman after 12 years of being together and she paying for his education.

- the one who suddenly broke up for no reason and spitefully threw a post-break up birthday present back at the face.

- the married one who is a devout christian and church leader but still strayed.

- the one who broke up with her after she had already bought an air ticket to fly over to see him.

- the one who promised to be together with her just so she would relent to having sex with him.

- the one who cheated on her when she was pregnant.

*shudder* no wonder i love zombie movies. they’re like melted butter on popcorn and bouncy air castles compared to the horror men have put women through.

do you have any to add?

New Depths of Low

I know THIS is supposed to be inspirational and I'm supposed to be like, YES YOU TOO CAN FIND A MAN! Just hang around the joke shop and wait for someone to save you from touching the joke Poo which that isn't really joke Poo but really a souvenir from the house cat. 

But THIS is exactly what happens when you aren't happy being single. You have to subject yourself to 1001 Ways To Meet Mr. Right. In other words, 1001 Ways To Stalk A Poor Unsuspecting Sod And Forcing Him To Give You His Number. 

I was actually approached to try out just some of these fabulous ways to meet men. However, since recent *events* that involved matchmaking (more on this later) I politely declined. But my poor FSG (Fellow Single Girl) wasn't so lucky. And so began a (I can only imagine) uncomfortable and long day of standing around flea markets, popcorn counters and car washes trying to give surreptitiously inviting looks to boys. 

Tsk tsk. I said it then and I say it now...if you had to put so much effort into meeting someone who will probably turn out to be an asshole, I rather be alone. Really. 

Taken or Not Taken?

It has dawned on me that at 26, I am at an age where I am becoming susceptible to a certain type of man taking an interest. We are now open to being victims to the type of man who will hit on us regardless if they have a girlfriend, wife, child or (not so ex) ex in the wings.

To prevent my fellow girls from falling into the trap of the Sleazy/Hamsap/Gatal Taken Man, here are some steps you should take the next time you find yourself wondering.

#1 -When you are deep in convo with the SHGTM, first and foremost you must pose this question: Hey, are you single?

#2 - If the SHGTM takes more than 4 secs to answer you, raise the alarm and RUN AWAY. You should also employ the same reaction if he either shifts uncomfortably when asked, if his eyes glaze over or he looks wisful, if he suddenly becomes deaf or if he answers you with a sleazy/hamsap/gatal smile.

#3 (a)- If the SHGTM says 'Yes, I am single', then you must be sure he answers you straightaway and looks you in the eye.

#3 (b) - If the SHGTM says 'No, I'm not...does it matter?'...your SHGTM has obviously turned into a Professional Asshole. A Professional Asshole is not worth your time. You should either RUN VERY FAR AWAY or slap him.

#4 - After the single question has been asked and answered, you must still take precautions. If the SHGTM starts to fidget everytime his phone rings, you must ask him: 'Hey, who's this that keeps calling you?'

#5 - If the SHGTM becomes deaf again or looks annoyed or glares at you, raise the alarm and RUN AWAY. Also do this if he starts laughing hysterically, or if he says 'It's my mother.'

#6 - If you have neglected to ask the all too important single question, you can also keep in mind some hints that you are dealing with a SHGTM. He will most probably only be available when he's overseas. He won't play hard to get with you. He will complain about the bad habits of 'certain' other women. He will most definitely not want to be seen in very public places with you.

The SHGTM is quite a sneaky bugger. He will most probably try to convince you that he is single, available, and really into you so please beware and trust your instincts. You are now at a vulnerable age where men may not be single, available and madly into you without hidden clauses.

Stamped With An L

Why is it that when a Loser hooks up with some poor unsuspecting girl, they suddenly find it pertinent for them to confess their former feelings for you (which you already knew about anyway and were desperately trying to avoid?)

They try to make it sound like *ooh, you missed a boat there.* THEY had a crush on you. and YOU avoided them. Now you're single, and they're massively loved up. One point for them, and NO points for you. Big bummerrrr.

Don't they realise that you'd rather be single than to have ever had to put up with the embarrassment of going out with them?

Just coz you have a girlfriend now does not make you any less of a LOSER.
And let's be honest, we all know you'd dump your girlfriend if I said yes to you now.