Tuesday, January 26, 2010

All the small things.

It's been said time and time again but we seldom take notice. When you're with someone, it really is the little things. Forget the grand gestures of flowers, expensive jewellery and saying the obvious ("Wow, you look gorgeous" - um, duh). There are a few things I truly take note of when dating a guy and, while to each his own, I think it's a pretty good gauge of character.

1. Punctuality. I'm not a stickler for being there on the dot; I am Malaysian after all. But there's a difference between being ten minutes late and being half an hour late. A guy who shows up on time means what he says and say what he means. 7pm is 7pm. Hence, "I really want to make this work" means just that. Oh and minus points for not apologising for being late. How rude.

2. When he drops you off, he waits till you get inside safely. This I can attest to. The guys who actually drove off the minute I stepped out of the car turned out to be jerks and the guys who waited for me to give a little wave before I closed the door behind me were keepers. Lesson: If he can't spare a few seconds to ensure you're not abducted by aliens as you walk to your door, he really can't care less.

3.He's nice to the waiters. He can be a charmer in seven languages when wooing you but a real gem is nice to everyone. I knew a smooth-talker who de-charmed himself by being a complete ass to the wait staff. Selective manners? I don't think so.

4. He doesn't like animals. I dunno. There's just something untrustworthy about people who don't like animals. You don't have to be a zookeeper but shoving your boot at an innocent stray cat says a lot about a man. That was one short date.

5. Animals don't like him. If Sparky doesn't like him, neither will your grandma. Trust me on this.

6. He's cheap. When I say cheap, I don't mean he orders the cheapest wine on the menu. I mean, he makes you pay for your own Teh C (which, even in these hard economic times, costs less than RM2.00). Or when he takes you out for dinner, his idea of 'a really special night out' means a Snack Plate at KFC. And after you give him your share when the bill comes (because you generously offered, of course), he reminds you, "Oh there's service tax." I'm not saying it's' all about the money. You know that parable in the Bible about the poor woman who had nothing and yet she gave her last penny to help someone? While the super loaded guy on his high and mighty donkey gave a bigger amount, thinking he was 'da man'? My point is, you need to date someone like the poor woman. It wasn't much but she gave her all.

7. He remembers. All sorts of stuff. Your favourite color. That embarrassing story when you were sixteen. Your aversion to olives. The attention to detail means he's listening. Definitely a good thing.`

I remember once when Haw picked me up in his vintage Toyota on a Sunday morning and he had placed a colourful pareo on the PVC seats. I asked him, "What's this for?" And he said, "It's a hot day and the seat gets really hot. I know you hate that so I covered it up for you."

It's the small things, I tell you.

Friday, January 22, 2010

The skinny on skinny.

It was 25 minutes into my treadmill session -somewhere between "Oh my God I can't feel my legs" and "My heart's going to explode into a million pieces"- when she walked into the gym in her skinny gloriousness. Actually, the first thing I noticed was her long, wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders and I thought,"Go tie your hair, woman. That is SO not practical in a gym." And then of course, my eyes glazed momentarily over her ridiculously tiny waistline and legs which seemed to go on forever. The gaze of the male crowd lingered a bit longer as she made her way to the treadmill beside mine and I swear she smelled like strawberries. Her arms were gazelle-like. She was just skinny. Skinny, skinny, skinny. The kind that even if you threw a lump of fat on, it would just slide off her. And so I watched her from the corner of my eye as she ran. Even her run looked 'skinny', as if she was going to sprout wings and suddenly flutter off into the night. The crazy woman didn't even seem to break sweat. And there we were, side by side. I looked at our reflection and how I was the anti-skinny in a world of skinny, a tinge of envy creeping in. And then I realised, as I stared at her bony butt...

I didn't want to be skinny.

Where was the fun in skinny? Even the word 'skinny' was unsexy - Why would I want to associate myself with the epidermis? No, a 20-inch waist was not the solution, at least not for me. And my legs were never built for hot pants and heels. Plus my boobs would look ridiculous on a rack of bones. No. I didn't want to be skinny. As I pushed myself to run faster and harder, I caught a glimpse of Skinny in the reflection again, her wavy hair bouncing around her Skeletor shoulders, and realised that I could look better than skinny. I could look stronger. I had enough meat on my body to cushion my ass if I fell off the treadmill, that's for sure. I didn't want to be skinny. I could never be skinny. Instead, I wanted to be stronger. Solid. Abs of steel. Okay, and a really nice ass you could bounce a coin off.

And so Skinny hit the showers after her 15-minute 'run' while I continued to slowly die doing crunches. Hell, I gave up on the Skinny Dream ages ago. My body isn't built for that. And you know what? Thank God it isn't.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

What's new, pussycat?

Black coffee with sugar.

Chardonnay, instead of Merlot.

Purple eyeliner.

A run in the morning.

Breakfast at an unknown coffee shop.

Sometimes you just have to try something out of the ordinary and see what's out there.

Which is why I'm going to attend a bread-making class today. So, have YOU tried something new?

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


Ok, so according a writing exercise I've been working on, I have to write everyday. Even if it's a one liner. Even if I don't have a single, coherent idea in my mind. And now, as I am multi-tasking with the TV blaring in the background and half-listening to my mum reminding me to do something (I'll ask her again later, it sounded important), I'm trying to write. Whatever comes to mind. Let' see.

I am the same height as Kylie Minogue.

Absolutely random. Writing done.