3CB

♫ I declare a moratorium on things relationship ♫
♫ I declare a respite from the toils of liaison ♫
♫ I do need a breather from the flavors of entanglement ♫
♫ I declare a full time out from all things commitment ♫

I have more male than female friends, and while it hasn’t helped me figure out Martians, it does expose me to certain … interesting perspectives. For example, I’ve had lots of my male friends tell me they’ve chosen not to have a relationship because the timing is wrong. It makes absolutely zero sense to me. I mean, if you like the girl, you go for it, no? And if you’re not going for it, you just don’t like her enough, yes? Apparently, that’s not the case in a man’s world.

The ‘reasons’ for timing have been everything from focusing on school/business/self development to saving themselves for marriage. Yes, people still do that, no sarcasm intended. At first I thought it was a silly ploy, a way to let the girl down gently. But I’ve seen the phenomenon in action enough to accept that the guys who said it actually meant it.

Another thing I’ve learnt to take at face value is the man who says he’s bad for you. They’ll usually admit it within five minutes of meeting. ‘I’m an asshole. I’m toxic. I’m no good. You should stay away from me.’ Of course women never listen to this. They think the guy is being cute or mysterious, or worse, they take it as a challenge. They think he may be an ass with other people but they can change him with their beauty and love. They think he can be mean to the rest of the world while being absolutely adorable to them.

I don’t particularly blame women for thinking that way. After all, in chick flicks, romance novels, and even Game of Thrones, Drogo the neanderthal always ends up having a gooey caramel centre which was just waiting for the right delicate vixen to thaw it out. We’re programmed to think we can tame the gorgeous beast.

In my case though, I’ve been around enough self-declared donkeys to take them at their word. Granted it’s often given as an excuse to not put in any effort to be … civil. A guy who tells you he’s an asshole from the get-go doesn’t feel the need to try being nice to you. After all, you’ve been warned, so it’s not his fault if you didn’t listen. Still, regardless of his motives in warning you off, he meant what he said, and will take no responsibility for hurting you.

I’ve had feelings for five men who told me they were bad for me, and they all burned me horrifically. I don’t blame them, and I have no ill feelings towards them. If anything, I’m grateful that they’ve shown what a man shouldn’t be, and helped me recognize a good one when I spot him. I’m also thankful because a few weeks ago, I met an otherwise perfect male specimen who told me he was bad news. I smiled, nodded, and slowly walked away. I’ve already taken that class, and I have no desire to repeat it.

The weirdest thing is this man seems to genuinely like everything about me, and we do fit together beautifully. A few years ago, I might have stuck around and tried to convince him of the goodness he has buried deep within. But after everything my past men have put me through, I made a deliberate choice not to fall for him, and it was easy to smile and content myself with just being friends.

I know this isn’t the kind of lesson you can learn just by reading about it. You need to live it to know it. And I hope one day guys like that make their peace and let go of their demons. But I’m glad my saviour complex is finally quelled, and that I’m leaving them to sort out their own ish. No more catching fleas while rescuing the strays. I still have a weakness though. I feel too much. I let a few people into my shell, and I get crushed when they chip at it from the inside.

I’ve always considered my heart a strength, thought it was a blessing that I could be so overwhelmed by emotion. It made me a better writer, mother, lover, and friend. But lately, I’m thinking it’s not such a good thing. I’m thinking it’s better to be a robot or a stone. Feeling good is great, but feeling sad, being vulnerable to that one special person, that sucks. I’d rather risk losing the beauty of love if it means I can never feel the pain of heartbreak. I’d rather lock my heart up, chain it, torch it, discard it. I’d rather not feel anything at all. Now, if only I could figure out how.

♫ Never surrender ♫ Skillet ♫

Sure, I use it about fifty times a day, but never as a weapon. It’s more of a description, a moniker of devotion to my baby girl. It’s also – to a some extent – a reflex mechanism. Of defence, if you will. It warns any wayward man that I’m probably a bitter feminist, and that should he have the slightest intention of looking my way, he’ll have my angsty baby girl to deal with. I didn’t realise until recently that it’s a way to shun before being shunned. Some people are so afraid of being hurt that they opt out before the choice is even offered. Or as Pyro so eloquently puts it:

Not afraid of commitment, afraid of love.
Not afraid of love, afraid of inadequacy.
Not afraid of inadequacy, afraid of rejection.

But I digress. Because this week, I made the ultimate use of the Single Mother card. See, every year in April, my baby goes on a scouting trip, and her nanny goes to visit her own baby. This year, between election drama and twisted school timetables, the trip was cancelled. My house-help still needed to go see her daughter, so I gave her the week off. I figured the princess would be okay on her own. She has Star TV, YouTube, holiday homework, plentiful playmates, and enough nuke-able food to last three weeks. Plus, she wanted the house to herself. She gets that from me. I figured I could leave the office early (read 5 p.m.) for the week, so I could catch her before bed time.

This magnificent plan fell apart at 6.45 p.m. on Monday evening when my baby called me. I was stuck on a bus, in the rain, cursing the traffic, when I heard her voice. “Mummy, the lights have gone off.” She was trying to be brave, but the quiver in her voice broke my heart. I tried to cheer her up and ordered myself not to cry at the thought of my precious girl, afraid and alone in the dark, and me with no way to get to her. I called her every five minutes of my bus trip, and she said, “I’m fine mummy, don’t worry … but … can the bus move any faster?” Sigh.

I got home two or three hours later to find her asleep, on the sofa, in the dark. Her fear had somehow lulled her into dreams. The next day, despite my qualms and my baby’s protests, I asked my boss to let me work from home this week. I know it looks bad, takes a bite out of the super-woman movement, makes my bosses wonder just how dedicated I am to my career. I know women in the west have it way worse than me – I enjoy my work, I get to wear what I want, and I have an affordable and trustworthy ‘mboch’. I know there may be sniggers and disgruntlement at the office. But my baby comes first. She may be a macho little dragon girl, but I’m not risking being stuck on the highway while my baby cries and quivers in the dark.

♫ Powerless ♫ Linkin Park ♫

Feelings suck. Truly, they do. It’s no surprise that some genius created the concept of ‘no strings attached’. And this week has been a pretty bad one as feelings go. I’ve had some high highs and low lows, sometimes separated by as little as a millisecond. I’ve gone from drenched, skipping, and dancing in the rain to mourning a gift I didn’t know I had. Days like this, I wish I was a lot less in touch with the state of my heart.

Monday night was awesome in ways that rate above and beyond PG. For most of Tuesday and part of Wednesday, endorphins, sore muscles, and sleep had me in a state of incessant nirvana. Then a simple three second phone call brought me crashing to the ground, and I was too upset and proud to even cry.

Thursday brought the promise of a different kind of high, and the morning was a bungee in itself, prevaricating between extremes of awkwardness and pleasantly surprised amusement. The events carried me through to Friday with a warm heart and a goofy smile, before another twisted phone call knocked the wind out of my sails. Maybe the moral of the lesson is that I should stop receiving phone calls at work. Maybe I should ditch the mic inside my cell phone altogether, and simply stick to text. It works for at least one person I know. Or maybe I’m just too moody for my own good.

♫ Lie to me ♫ 12 Stones ♫