Commitment-phobic

I almost called it off with BL last week. I have been so frustrated with our every interaction lately, persistently finding fault with him. Gosh, I feel so much like those petty women I swore I would never be. And here I am, behaving exactly like one.

Friends who were eager to dispense advice kept asking me what exactly the problem was. The problem was, and is, I am not sure what the problem is. But there’s a nagging feeling that this is just not right. Two people coming together should be about joy. My relationship is full of frustration, agitation and anger.

The girls said it my issue with commitment, the kind of commitment that BL is expecting of our relationship.

They could be right. I often wonder if all this fault-picking is not my way of finding the imperfections in the union so I can further reinforce my longtime conviction that my soul feeds on freedom.

Sometimes, I think perhaps it’s what BL has asked of me, and what he’s giving back to me simply ain’t enough to balance the scales. This commitment thing, is a huge step for me. He wanted that from me, and once I’ve convinced myself to take that step, I want to see that it’s worth my while, my effort, my courage and my sacrifice (Gee, that was 4 ‘mys’ in a row). You know, a simple transaction of exchanging values. And with everything that has happened, I am feeling cheated all the “mys”.

And yes, I am well aware that affairs of the heart cannot be treated the same way like affairs of P&L statements. What to do, what to do??? Perhaps the business world is too entrenched in me already.

I didn’t that I was really resisting commitment. But then again, I really have never gone into any relationship with the feeling that I’m ready to ride it out for the long-run. Most time, it’s the challenge of conquering and of achieving. It’s funny, isn’t it? I display such eager commitment to my job, but cannot even inch out a fraction o f the same dedication for the people I love.

The very words I coined up a few months back now ring so true in my year… the great eulogy about “Expectations kill relationships. And it’s the people we love most that we expect the most of….”

But then again, I should perhaps add a disclaimer to my infamous quote above. People who are not closed to us do encroach into our private living space. Is that disclaimer good enough? Good enough to wash my selfish sins away? I know, probably not.

Or maybe… maybe…. this is that great love that was meant to be…..

Always A Tiger

Food & Sex

OK, I think this is one of those “Texas, we have a problem” moment.

Last night, after we made hot passionate love (love, not sex because there isn’t yet), the thoughts of food kept creeping into BL’s mind. While I was planting kisses all over his body, he kept reciting names of food that he wanted to eat. A&W waffle with ice cream, pig intestine porridge, fried hokkien mee…. I told him I was not going to get out of bed, get dressed and go slap fat around my waist. Supper is the highway to obesity.

This morning, I woke up all and ready to have a big English breakfast, he says he need to sleep. It is now 11am, half the day is gone. He’s still sleeping and I am still hungry.

Something is very wrong with this scene.

A Naif's Boo Boo with Fat

How much insult can a woman tolerate in a week?

After a big bad blow, I had a big bad row.

After not seeing BL for a few days and missing him, I made an effort to go over to his place to have dinner with him yesterday. Dinner was OK, we chatted while I ate. Immediately after dinner, he moved over to the TV and turned on the mandarin news. It was the end of a long day and I was just too tired to make my brain work doubly hard to translate whatever the newscaster was reading into the lingo I comprehend. With my brain idle, I thought I’d snooze a little on the bed.

BL joined me soon after. We snuggled a bit, he wrapped his arms around my tummy, squeezed it a little and said “fat fat”. I was distraught!! Hey, I don’t usually have a body image problem, but gee, where did that attack suddenly came from? Besides, I don’t think I am fat. I may not be stick-thin like those runway models, but fat I ain’t.

He was perplexed by my display of such extreme reaction to his little remark. I tried to reason with him. It’s common knowledge – the issue of weight is very sensitive among women. “Even if a woman was fat, and she asked you what if she was, you lie!”

To this, he retorted, “But I don’t lie. I always speak nothing but the truth”. Gosh! In the context of him just branding me fat, this was a very bad recovery. It was like stabbing a knife into one’s heart and now you twist the knife around to increase the torture.

“I don’t mean you’re very fat dear, but not what I meant was that you’re not the skinny kind. See, compared to me, you’re not that fat.” And BL rub this jolly beer belly to proof his point. I think my heart sank 6 feet lower. Honestly, I thought to myself, anyone would be thin standing next to BL.

“Don’t worry dear”, BL said, “even if you become as fat as Lydia Sum, I would still love you.” At this point, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to cry and smack him. Lydia Sum?!! Lydia Sum is 6 times my size! I think if that knife was really stabbed into my heart, this would be the moment I exhale my last breath.

Vincent said I’ve got to love him to his naivety. I told him my heart is just too shrouded with frustration at the moment to see that far.

A Big Bad Blow

My relationship with BL is on the rocks. I don’t where the problem is – him, me, or just whatever that is or is not between us.

2 years of pseudo relationship with an arrogant bastard has not managed to make feel as half as small as what BL has reduced me to in just a mere 4 months.

Our lifestyles couldn’t be more different. I am a very private person. My private space and time is something I guard. I can work till the wee hours of the night on weekdays, but weekends are strictly off work. I don’t even want to think about work. For the last 3 years, I have made a conscious decision not to work from home because I don’t maintain distinct segregation between my work and private space.

BL is exactly the opposite. He doesn’t have an office to go to. He only has workstation assigned to him when he checks into his office. Unless there are meetings to attend, he works from home. Over the years, he has lost his ability to compartmentalize. He can be watching TV with you work on his notebook at the same time. Likewise, He can be physically in my space, but his mind couldn’t be further away. You pour your heart to him and end up feeling like you’ve just confessed to a blank wall.

Honestly, I am insulted that I have to compete for his attention with NST Online, Star Online and Bernama. Seriously, I would have felt much better if it was another woman than something as trivial as online news.

Yesterday morning was the last straw. I was going down on BL when we woke up in the morning. He made little moans and groans, and then it stopped. I looked up and saw his eyes starring at the ceiling. I stopped and asked him, “What’s on your mind? Work?”. He nodded shyly. I had no words to describe my anger. I stormed out of the room.

I cannot think of any blow to a woman’s ego. Even if it ain’t that great, show some appreciation – FAKE it! Besides, I don’t think I do such a bad job that department. SL has enjoyed it, as well as a line of many AFF guys.

I told a few friends, and they were all in utter disgust. SC is right, I would never be able to go down on BL again without images of yesterday’s faithful event popping up in my head.

I always thought when you find the perfect love, it's supposed to feel like one of those Jerry Mcguire "you complete me" cliches, make you feel a greater you. Why do I feel so mad all the time these days?

Blood Loss II

I feel extremely light-headed. In the midst of my mens, I went for my regular dental check this morning and end up having my wisdom tooth extracted. Bleeding top and bottom. Geez, I need some of those pig livers.