:-/ 29 may 2008 You know, after a long day at work (and many more ahead) trying to keep everyone AND yourself afloat, you really just want to retreat to your private sanctuary at home to have some me-time; to not have to think for everyone else; to not have to wonder whether you have what it takes; to not have to face your fears and try to stare them down because that is really the only way you will ever have what it takes; to not have to think about work; to not have to think about anything at all, actually; to not have to talk; to draw comfort, even if for an hour or two of what remains of the night, in your own skin, however drab it might be. You certainly don't expect to have to continue working it. Nor least of all, to be reminded of your inadequacies - or perhaps not just yours - that you are lesser in ways that other people are not. Especially when it really feels like someone else who has had a long day at work is taking it out on you. And then a not-so-funny thing happened 28 may 2008 Why?!!! Why me?!!!!! WHY!!!!!!!!! I don't know if it's the shock, or my recent mellowness blase response to everything - because the world ought to be one more man LESS his family jewels tonight, but it's not. And somewhere, a Fat, Revolting, Sick Bastard of an Asshole, got off (in all probability, more ways than one) easy. Now, I've met my fair share of queue-jumpers but this.... THIS.... The friend first sidled up to me at the crowded taxi stand at Golden Mile, enquiring about the queue. The Fat Bastard lumbered up from behind and leaned heavily against the railing, breathing heavily, while his friend pointed out the long queue. Neither of them reeked of alcohol though. As they continued to stand there, everyone in the queue stiffened. You know the drill. The only thing preventing the two from jumping the queue was the railing - or so I thought. I muttered to WL the thought which was obviously on everyone's mind and returned to our conversation, even as I moved forward a little - and then a few feet away, when a peripheral check registered The Fat Bastard grabbing his crotch. A while later, I felt a spray on my leg.... And followed its surprisingly far-reaching, and triumphant trajectory to The Fat Bastard's pants.... He. Had. Pissed. All. Over. My. Legs. . . . . . . "What the fuck!!!" I swore.... paused for a few seconds.... and then I fled into the complex to get to a toilet. By the time I rejoined WL, who had not left the queue (just as well), The Fat Bastard and his friend had already gone to the end of the line - the two had tried to jump the queue after I left, but the others stopped them. I would have liked to think it ended there. Because then I could make believe that it was all a very, very unfortunate incident, but unintentional. Except that when it came to our turn, WL alerted me that the two had come forward, looking spaced out, and appeared to be making a beeline for the next incoming cab, which stopped some distance away to let off a passenger first. So I did what I always do with queue-jumpers - I strode ahead and got into the cab before they could. And it just had to be OUR cab, even though the few others before us in the queue boarded their rides without incident. The audacity! And clearly, I was being targetted. What kind of sick person does that?!!! * * * * * * * * * * And that was that. My leg itches now. Dammit. * * * * * * * * * * Why? Why is all this shit happening to me??? And why am I not feeling even at least half as incensed as I should be? A funny thing happened 27 may 2008 T was telling me that he had been talking to The Stapler and found out that we had known each other for many years. He also found out that we were both single. (Hmmm.) He then decided to ask me the same "silly question" that he said he had asked her last night: Whether The Stapler and I had ever been in a relationship. I laughed and said that I had never been in a relationship with The Stapler - and never would, for that matter. I knew, of course, what T really meant - that is, whether we had ever been in a relationship with someone else. T just doesn't speak English very well. And since I did not feel like answering the question, I chose to 'misunderstand' his "silly question". For fun and laughter, of course. The funny thing was, he then told me that The Stapler had said the same thing too. Laugh. I'll'd like to think that The Stapler had deliberately 'misunderstood' T too..... eh, you did, rrrright??? * * * * * * * * * * So, what was so different a year ago? He finally said it was the bad skin, after I flashed my demurest you-can-tell-me-anything-and-you-won't-die smile. But he would have told me sooner or later - deer in headlights. SF thinks it's the RF facials. Something about my face being less "porey" and how light is reflected differently, the change in the collagen and the shape of my face. Ah so desu! * * * * * * * * * * But it's not just that, I think. Every once in a year or two, a stranger crosses my path, and something in me changes. And that seems to be the way things are going to be.... How apt, the title of this blog. Try Me and You Die 15 may 2008 Just about everyone in the dive group has a nickname of sorts, mostly bestowed by our Great Dive Leader. Except me. (Why am I not surprised?) But come to think of it, neither does The Stapler, I think. (What that says about her is, well.... maybe she should blog about this too. Heh.) (Apparently, The Stapler does. Unfortunately, my disagreement with that claim cannot be discussed in a more substantial manner here without divulging her identity. Ah well.) I suppose the rest don't quite know what to make of me. Read: unmemorable; non-descript. Sniff. But G "Drunk-On-One-Beer" W did attempt a middle name of sorts for me in the running 'credits' for a nicely put together video for our last dive trip. It was a question mark, like so, [name] "?" [surname]. Ha-ha. But it was apt, ironically. Heh. And then, courtesy of S "Underwear" F (long story but briefly, ha-ha, she had flashed - ok, to be fair, unintentionally - someone; and the very next morning, someone else - again, to be fair, unintentionally, or so he claimed - chanced upon her in the same underwear (doesn't anyone knock on doors anymore???)), the diver formally known as a question mark is now [name] "Try-Me-And-You-Die" [surname]. Ok, that really does nothing for my efforts to dissociate myself from my intimidating persona. Aaarrrggghhh!!! So I suppose a question mark would have to do for now. Nods wordlessly. Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda or Samantha? 14 may 2008 Two guys I asked picked Charlotte - because she was "pretty" and "demure". And the third.... well, the third never watched Sex and the City. Doh. Of Samantha, the same two were visibly turned off and simply shook their heads. So, who does (or does not) it for you? And why? Whaaat??! 12 may 2008 He kissed her. While that summary of events immediately conjures a hundred other ensuing questions (where? when? how? WHERE?!!), it is to my mind, really the most straightforward and simplest way of putting it. Nevermind that I had not actually witnessed The Event or even realised what had happened in the parallel universe - due to LOS* and because I was preoccupied with counting the number of seconds the very-pleased-kisser's arm remained around the even-more-pleased-kissee (after The Event, which I was to hear of only later), at least one other person with direct LOS almost had to go running after her eyeballs. Heh. Heh. Of course, a whole lot more preceded The Event which probably begs retelling (but I no time, ok?), the point is, he DID kiss her (so let's all just obsess focus on that instead, ok?). Heh. And moving on.... (because I don't want to have my eyeballs gouged out) * * * * * * * * * * "Whaaat??!" "There it is!!!" "WHATTT??!" "See? So fierce!!!" Oh god.... what's wrong with me.... aaarrrgggh.... time to rename this blog from "The Intimate Stranger" to "The Intimidating Stranger" :-\ * (LOS - Line of Sight) Help 11 may 2008 I really need to get my watch fixed. Does anyone know where I can get the leather strap fixed? Specifically, I need to get the loops replaced. To die for 09 may 2008 Oh. My. God. Talk about orgasmic food. Methinks even the fat-trimming Best Friend would approve. Heh. It's been some time since I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Fat never tasted soooo good. In other news, learn fast, die young? All mixed up 08 may 2008 Perhaps I waited too long - which explains the mixed signals; and then my own. Perhaps not - the romantic in me would like to think it should not matter; and it might not have made a difference anyway. CirCe thinks I'm absolutely hopeless. (But it's just the way I was made, no?) So maybe I should just stop hoping. One more chance 04 may 2008 "Won't Go Home Without You" by Maroon 5 I asked her to stay but she wouldn't listen She left before I had the chance to say Oh The words that would mend the things that were broken But now it's far too late, she's gone away Every night you cry yourself to sleep Thinking: "Why does this happen to me? Why does every moment have to be so hard?" Hard to believe that It's not over tonight Just give me one more chance to make it right I may not make it through the night I won't go home without you The taste of your breath, I'll never get over The noises that she made kept me awake Oh The weight of things that remained unspoken Built up so much it crushed us everyday Every night you cry yourself to sleep Thinking: "Why does this happen to me? Why does every moment have to be so hard?" Hard to believe that It's not over tonight Just give me one more chance to make it right I may not make it through the night I won't go home without you It's not over tonight Just give me one more chance to make it right I may not make it through the night I won't go home without you Of all the things I felt but never really shown Perhaps the worst is that I ever let you go I should not ever let you go, oh oh oh It's not over tonight Just give me one more chance to make it right I may not make it through the night I won't go home without you It's not over tonight Just give me one more chance to make it right I may not make it through the night I won't go home without you And I won't go home without you And I won't go home without you And I won't go home without you * * * * * * * * * * Yes, of course I remember.