you're beautiful

he says i'm a beautiful woman. i'm a beautiful person.

he holds me, puts his hand on my head, puts his arms around me neck and says

he loves me, but he's not in love with me

he says though, that very honestly, when i was wearing that ridiculous red curly haired wig and dancing, he was in love with me. for just that moment.

he asks me what i want.

i don't want anything i reply.

i sit in a corner of the underground cellar in the bar and resolutely read random books i pick up from the shelf

how can i say

i want you to be in love with me

he says he wouldn't hang on what he said before, that if i weren't a banker, and he didn't have a girlfriend (and the subtext that if he was in love with me), he would marry me

he says i'm being aggressive. why are you being aggressive? what did i do? i'm an innocent bystander. you're being pathetic now. when i said i wanted to go to chinatown. i wanted to have duck noodles.

he felt responsible somehow.

i hopped into a cab to assuage his feeling of responsibility

and asked the cabbie to drop me off at chinatown, barely two minutes down from regent street. £3.80

maybe i was being aggressive. i was being defiant. i will survive. i'm 24 and i've never died yet. i've survived. how old am i? you haven't seen me die yet have you? i ask

22. and the fact that you've survived is amazing enough

i have to live as i want to. i say i want to go to chinatown, then by god i'll go to chinatown

it's your loss i said. and mine. both our losses

yes, he agreed. it's a loss, his loss

i rest my chin on his shoulder and look towards the wall

maybe it's better

i'm saving myself all the heartache

how long are you going to hide he asks

i'm not hiding

are you saying i'm hiding?

tears stream down my face.

he reaches out, puts his hand on my head, takes my hair in his hand

it's scary how much he can read my mind

how i have an idea which will destroy it all

our love (but clearly not his in love-ness) for each other

he guesses

i deny

he says i lie

yes, i lied

but he wants, prefers me to lie

so he will be comfortable

he takes it easy, ignores the difficult situation i've put him in he says

he breaks my heart

how can i let a boy i barely know break my heart

this, is rock bottom

The first day

I survived my first day.

I told Cavé that I liked him on Sunday. No, I actually told him that he was the first person who I thought might be The One. And he effectively said no. And today it's all business as usual back in the office.

It was over drinks on Friday that I ended up crying a little in a small underground bar in Covent Garden. I'd been sad about work. In the end, because I was feeling reckless after a frustrating period at work, and I'd had nothing to eat since lunch and had three cocktails in succession, I told him that the reason I wasn't pushing for NY was because of him (made more deeply ironic because he'd broken up with his long-term, long-distance girlfriend because she wasn't willing to move to London/NY for him).

We agreed to meet up to discuss. And so, over brunch at a cocktail bar/lounge in a side alley somewhat off of New Bond Street, we had our conversation.

And although it was a No fairly early on, after one hour of faffing about and talking about work, we still continued on and a had wonderful conversation. One of those lovely, meandering, slightly dreamy, sometimes intimate, sometimes jokey conversations that flittered like a butterfly from one topic to another, sometimes just brushing by with a light touch, sometimes resting for a while. It was all so natural, and after the conversation, crazily enough, I'd come to like even more (even as a friend) and I'd come to realise that he was even more startlingly like me than I'd previously thought (and I had already thought he was as good as it gets).

What gutted and baffled me the most, was this: he acknowledged that I was most similar to him in the team, I think he is the most similar male (even person) to me in my 24 years of life. I find it very very difficult to truly truly like a guy enough to commit (my multitudinous sea of crushes notwithstanding), while he, already single for two months, readily acknowledges that he is actually incapable of being single for long. Then why... why not me? Why not us?

I asked him: why not? And he said: I can't say why, it's irrational. And I just said: Oh okay. And accepted it. After all, I'd asked guys who'd liked me before why they like me, and they'd always come up with: 'I don't know why, I just do', and I've always accepted that. So it seems to be the most natural thing in the world to accept this too.

And yet... what baffles me. Which I should have asked is... You see, this was the boy, who, at the early part of last year had said: If you weren't a banker, and I'd met you earlier, I might very well marry you. I had asked him why, and said I was thinking I'd never marry cos guys just don't seem to like me much in general. And he had said this: that I was one of those people who provoked extreme reactions in people/guys. Guys would fall into two categories. They would either strongly like me, or not at all. There would be nothing in between. He had evidently fallen into one camp before (at least theoretically), why has it changed?

I was exhausted at work today, since I had come home from work at 4am on Sunday (technically Monday morning) and had gone back into work by 9am. And so I wasn't particularly in a good shape to talk etc. especially when he first came in. I especially didn't want him to feel awkward or think I'd spent all night crying or what not. But we didn't really speak the entire, except for saying Hi in the corridor.

In the evening, when the time came to order dinner, I didn't deliberately seek him out since I thought that would be a bit unnatural. But when I forgot to order for myself the first time round, and I knew that most other people in the team had ordered, I went to find him in a room where he was sitting, and said: Hey you want order?

Who's ordering said he.

Me. Cucina?

He said yeah okay and gave me his typical order.

I think that would have been he natural thing for me to do in the circumstances. And in any case, I didn't want us to not talk on the first day and start things off on the wrong foot by getting it all weird and awkward.

When the first batch of food came, I went down to collect it with another girl. And he came sauntering into the dinner room after. And I said: That's not your food. I forgot to order for myself the first time, so I ordered a second time.

Then when I got the next call, I went out and said: hey your food is here now.

How about your food, he asks. (my heart leaps with joy)

Yes, mine too. And [our D]'s too. Will you collect it?

He said okay.

And I gave him a smile (that only an infatuated girl could give ;)) and said thank you. Then I left to go back to my conference call.

And as it panned out, I didn't have dinner with him (with all the other people in my team) after all. But that wasn't the point. The point was to make contact, to interact, in as normal and natural a way as possible.

But it was hard. During the day, every time I saw him laugh, my gut would wrench. Every time his eyes crinkled and those deep crow's feet around his smiling eyes appeared, or his face turned pink from laughter, and I saw those cigarette-stained yellow teeth (yeah.. I know... it's gross), my stomach would knot up. I'd feel almost hurt. Because I wanted to see him smile. I wanted to be able to just look at him, to stare, to join in the laughter, to share the mirth. I love to see him smile, my little Caravaggiesque Grumpy. But I couldn't. I, who had spent so many days and weeks secretly or not-so-secretly looking at him, had to militantly keep my eyes away from him. Because now he would be alert. Now he would know. And I didn't want him to know. Although that doesn't make sense of course. Because he does know. He knows as much as there is possible for him to know. I'd told him All. That he was Possibly THE ONE. The First guy I'd ever thought might be THE ONE. In a way, there's no longer any need to pretend. I'd bared my soul to him, put myself in a vulnerable position. But at least in the office, I wanted to make it as comfortable for him as possible, so he wouldn't have to worry so much about hurting me. It's not easy, to be sensitive to someone who said all of that. And I know he means well, he's also treading around lightly, gently. He doesn't want to trample all over my little heart.

My stomach is still tied up in knots. I've lost my appetite. It's nothing quite as serious as my appetite loss during the hellish 8 months when The Ex (then Bf) and I were in a rocky patch. Then, I lost 5 kgs in about 6-9 months. But this time of course, I'm working. Long hours. And after all, I'm not with him.

My gut twists. I both want to leave because I can't bear seeing him so near, knowing how impossible it is. And how frustrated and upset I will be the day (not too far from now) when he will have a new girlfriend, and I will have missed his single boat. (And he usually stays in relationships for a long time). And yet I can't bear to leave. To give up. Knowing, believing... in his potential.

I've been listening to Shakira (Oral Fixation 2) over and over again recently: "That without you this place is like London, It rains every day"

But I'm very glad I told him. I'm actually very proud of myself for being so brave (reckless). It's like a big weight has been lifted off my chest. Because now, I know I've at least told him, I've at least tried, and fought for something I care for. I took a risk. No regrets. And this is also something I didn't think I would have in me to do. This should have been something on my List of Things to Do Before I Die.

And well... if nothing else, I hope I get to lose weight. I mean.. things being as they are, I hope I get to at least milk it for what it's worth.

And at least we're still friends..

Leap of faith

Today (Sunday, 8th October), I flew.

I finally took a flying leap of faith out of a plane (safely strapped to an instructor) for my first ever skydive.

It's been one of the items on my "List of things to do before I die" which I had began compiling when I was in my early teens. It was one of the scary but exhilarating things I thought I'd never have the guts to do but would definitely want to experience in my lifetime.

I'm a 'fraidy cat you see. In general, I'm afraid of pain—sharp items (knives, needles etc.), fire. I'm afraid of cockroaches. Sometimes the dark, but mainly because it might contain cockroaches and creepy crawlies—this was when I grew up in the tropics. I was also afraid of heights. Am also afraid of heights I mean.

As a child, I rarely climbed ladders, the few times I climbed up a ladder, I could only go up the third step from the bottom. I'd be gripping the sides of the ladder very tightly and would have to repeat in my head: "ok don't worry. breathe. breathe. don't look down."

When I went hiking in the Snowdonia a few years ago, and it raining and we were high up having to scramble over a huge pile of wet and slightly unstable loose rocks, or we had to walk along a path with a sheer drop on one side, I walked at an excruciatingly slow pace. And it was only at the end of the scramble/walk and I let my breathe out and fresh air whoosh into my lungs. I didn't realise how carefully I'd been calibrating my breathing. And I told myself that I should never put myself through that kind of hell again.When I went skiing in Torgon last year I fell down so often precisely because I was always so terrified of falling down.

My list of things to do before I die was deliberately ambitious so I would challenge myself, grow, and not allow life to pass me by. I have since lost the list (or it is hidden somewhere in my house in malaysia), but I remember a lot of it. And I know that a large chunk of the list will have to be written off. They will not be achievable/I'm not sure I think they will be worth my time and effort anymore. Chief among those are my stated aim to live/work for two years each in the then Big-5 economies/countries in the world—UK, US, Germany, France (or was it Russia?), Japan. I have done that for the UK. And, who knows.. might very well do that for the US too. But the rest... I think that would take too much time for too little returns. My time and effort would be better spent elsewhere.

But among the extreme sports/sports that I wanted to try were skydiving, bungee-jumping, paragliding etc. The major constraints for me were: 1) money, 2) fear. The truth is, one of the reasons why I want to make money is (frivolously enough... and I will not often admit it) that I need funding for my scatter-brained/hare-brained ideas of what I really want to experience. For example, there's a LOT of travelling involved in my List.

Somehow, skydiving/bungee-jumping was probably among the less likely things that I expected to actually achieve. I am Really scared of heights. I wouldn't characterise it as acrophobia—that would be too extreme. It suggests a Debilitating fear. But to my mind, my fear is pretty serious. I've barely ever taken roller coaster rides for example. I think I've taken a maximum of 5 in my life. And that was during my summer stint at a theme park (Lake Compounce) because, well, it was there, and free, and I figured I'd better to do it some point before I die anyway. Particularly if I had aspirations for more extreme activities.

But sign up I did for tandem skydiving. I wasn't scared the night before going. Not on the morning itself, although I was thinking eating before the dive probably wasn't a good idea (but I eventually scarfed down scrambled eggs with toast and a hot chocolate anyway). Not even when we got onto the plane. My strategy was to ignore it.. not think about it and just deal with the fear and the reality when the time came. A big part of it was also that I had absolute faith that I was in good hands. In safe experienced hands and nothing would go wrong from a technical point of view. Although during the final briefing by my instructor Gary, I told him that I was afraid of heights, and that he should probably push me off the plane, otherwise I might never jump.

We were thousands of feet up in the air. The sliding door opened. I saw a sea of clouds and some blue sky. The wind was rushing. The engine, or was it the wind? was loud. The first experienced guy stood up from a corner of the plane and flung himself gloriously, exuberantly out of the plane. I barely had any time to be shocked or scared after my initial rush of being impressed, and we were already shuffling on our butts to the edge of the plane. Looking out, down... I suddenly felt light headed. I barely had time to regret, to think, to be scared. It was too late. I choked off the thought: No you are doing this! Instead of looking down, I assumed my position: hands under harness, head up and back (on his right shoulder), back arched, hips out, legs bent under the plane towards my butt. I half-thought: should I close my eyes? And I was swinging, rocking back and forth. I thought I had already jumped (wow that wasn't scary, went my surprised internal voice) and in that moment when my mind was split three ways: considering whether I should close my eyes, registering my body movement and interpreting that as me having jumped, realising this was it and it wasn't that scary at all after all—it was then that I thought I heard: "Alright here we go" and whoosh I found myself hurtling down. My mind was still too diffused, too distracted and surprised to be afraid. I saw the multi-hued squares of green farmland below me like a patchwork quilt. The wind beat up against me. I felt my cheeks being flapped upwards, creating an involuntary grin/grimace. I felt surprised and my mind was registering a few things at the time: Oh... the earlier swing wasn't the jump, that was trying to gain momentum, oh... this is not so scary.. wow.. my heart didn't feel like it was lagging my body (ie. being jerked out of its rightful place the way it felt on one of the roller coaster rides). I remembered the instructor saying: if you have difficulty breathing, give a shout. I could breathe. Incredibly easily. I was not scared anymore. I'd done it! I was flying. Free falling through air. I felt the joy bubbling up within me. And I shouted just for fun. I laughed. I giggled.

My leather cap had been too loose and my goggles weren't fastened tightly enough either, so one of of my eye was half closed by the goggle riding up against my cheek due to the wind resistence during the free fall. I used my hands to try to adjust it. Once, twice... it wouldn't work. And I was laughing inside, thinking: this is Comedy Central. I'm free falling through air and space, and I was at leisure to happily fix my goggles. That was how comfortable I felt.

It was time to release the parachute. There was a loud sound. And I was jerked upwards. Up up up. Then it stopped. I slowed down. I felt like a dandelion seed. Floating ever so lightly through the air. Gary let me maneauvre the parachute a little bit (with his guidance). Pull on the right. And we were spining on the right. Let go. And we upright again. Pull on the right. And we were spinning again. A light headed, semi dizzy feeling.. but a comfortable one. And up again. And so it went. All the way to one thousand, when the instructor took over again for the landing.

We landed. Gary and I shook hands. And I thanked him.

I was all smiling. A second wave of adrenaline rush kicked in.

If I did it again, I would like to do it with a view to going solo someday. It wasn't as scary an experience as I thought it would be, probably because I was completely distracted during the initial jump off, and the full force of the fear didn't impact e. But that was great. Having done it once, I can do the tandem again. But the real test would probably be in diving alone. Challenging myself to have the guts to take that flying leap, solo.

That's what bungee jumping is like actually. Because in bungee jumping, unless I'm mistaken, I think you always jump alone. And that's seriously scary. That needs real courage. Despite my successful skydive, which I half never expected to accomplish, I'm not entirely sure if I will end up bungee jumping one day.

I hope I do.

Tomorrow is another day...