5 years

When I was younger, I used to think that 19 was a great age. It was sweet, young and especially perfect for the first boyfriend.

I used to think that I’d like him to be within, 1-5 years – no, in fact, 5 years older should be perfect.

He should be taller than me of course. Same height would be fine.. (Until high school when my only slightly shorter male buddy said I towered over him like a dinosaur in heels.)

Tall, dark and handsome….is too far-fetched let’s not set ourselves up for failure I thought.

A deep/unreadable gaze (I used to sketch, horribly, Jesse McCartney’s T-line – because the shadow made by a straight brow and notable nose created a shadow over the eye). Hopefully?

My dating experience in form six (one lunch and one dinner separately), hit the nail on the coffin and sent any preference for non-milky skinned Chinese boys whatsoever six-feet under. No one fairer than me. It just wasn’t going to work out. I didn’t like Chinese boys once I got to know them..unless they were different, un-Chinese-like.

Going to uni, I was attracted to men who spoke well, who knew more than I did, and a sparkling world of endless learning.

I wanted someone who could attract me mentally. Pique my thoughts and talk on a wavelength I’d feel sparks just trying to figure out let alone connect on.

I also wanted someone so kind..he could notice things people ordinarily didn’t. Someone gentle in manner, but a man no less, because people are harsh enough no matter blood bond or not. I’d witness enough senseless bickering over ego.

But mostly in my teens, all I thought I wanted was that he be older, tall and slim fit. haha

The last guy I dated in uni really ruined that “older guy” perception though. he was really not mature, at that time, at least not for the commitment-phobe I sorta was/am.
I bolted emotionally so hard, by the end of the second date.

A lot has evolved since 24 became the new “19”.

A lot has changed in me. Then again, I used to think I’d be married by 25.

And two guys separately had their effect.

to be continued.

Quarantined from the world

Can I escape the reality that work and other commitments permeate?

It’s coming through my screens, my personal space, my mental space. I want to read more and be happy in a world far away without the notification of responsibility.

What is it you want from me now?

Is my time so touchable to you, because let me tell you it shouldn’t be.

The more I stay at home, rushing work and waiting for the clock to past the time where it’s obviously not working time..the more I want my non-work hours to pace more languidly..the more I want to escape..and disconnect from everyone and everything.

I have been wanting to write more stories during this time, if only it wasn’t where I spend most of my day at.