Life Stories - Part 7

It’s just after 6 am when you cross the lights on Bras Basah Road near St Joseph’s Institution, an old David Bowie song playing in your head as you take long, determined strides.

You’re in Primary Six, and partnered with a Secondary Four kid on a Saturday flag day for your school. His strategy is simple – start really early, hit the places that the other kids wouldn’t think of, avoid Orchard Road (where most people are intent on spending money on themselves rather than on giving to charity) and go where two hard-working, earnest youngsters are most likely to be rewarded for their efforts with generous donations.

Within the next hour, you cover two wet markets, amazed at how many red-coloured bills are stuffed into your collection tin by matronly women doing their weekly grocery run. A quick lunch of boiled vegetables and rice at an uncle’s home nearby is the only break that you really take throughout the day, pounding the pavement around the Bugis and Rochor districts.

By evening, you’re thoroughly exhausted and back at school, waiting intently as the collections are counted. You beam with pride as they announce that you’ve collected the most of all the teams, beating the runner up pair by a convincing margin.

That Secondary Four kid goes on to become a top government lawyer, having taught you some of the most valuables lessons in life.

singapore

Fastlove - Part 6

She says she’s been in the business too long, lighting up a super thin cigarette that somehow makes the next girl seem unsophisticated with garden variety Marlboro Lights.

You’ve always found her attractive, with her petite frame and hair tied up in a signature ponytail. Today she’s dressed casually in a fitted long sleeve dark blue shirt and skinny Miss Sixty jeans, a stainless steel Rolex Submariner sitting on her slender wrist.

She speaks to you in a comfortable mix of English and Hokkien, and fixes her eyes intently on you as she takes a long drag on her thin cigarette. She tilts her mouth to the side as she exhales, grey tendrils of smoke sneaking off into the cold air of the darkened room.

singapore

Fastlove - Part 5

You reach for a book on your bookshelf as you pack for a business trip. It’s slim with a blue cover, telling the story of the reengineering of a Japanese automotive giant, and unread since you bought it sometime the previous year on some work trip.

Carelessly you flip through the pages, scanning them for interesting passages. You notice a receipt stuffed somewhere in the middle, and when you look closer, find a single long strand of golden hair curled up neatly next to it. You unravel the blonde hair, admiring its length and relative straightness, and how the colour is more or less even from the follicle to the end.

You pause for a moment, trying hard to remember how it got there, and to whom it may have belonged. You smile to yourself when you think you know the answer.

singapore

Life Stories – Part 6

You are in primary school, part of a student contingent sent to pay respect at the funeral of a society elder, a generous benefactor of the school.

You and your friends line the driveway to the old man’s house as his funeral procession begins to wind its way past you. One of the last cars to leave the compound is a sleek BMW 7-series, with an incongruous bumper sticker that reads: “If you love someone, set them free… If they don’t come back, hunt them down and shoot them.”

You don’t know it then, but this moment would somehow colour your view on love.

singapore

Life Stories – Part 5

The girl you’re with excites you, more than many have in the past. Quietly and without letting her know, you bring her to all your old dating haunts and weekend getaways, as though doing so will eradicate the memories of those who have come before her.

singapore

Pour que tu m'aimes encore – Part 3

She’s waiting for you in a crowded café in an Orchard Road mall, slouched down in her seat at a corner table and wearing a faded orange baseball cap with her long ponytail coming out the back. She’s dressed simply in a sleeveless top and track pants, suggesting a visit to the gym or maybe some yoga afterwards.

She says that on her way over, someone had recognised her and asked for a photo. She gladly obliged, all the while apologising for not wearing any make-up and for dressing so casually.

You took no notice of her comment at the time, realising only later that evening that her public persona had begun to diverge, spreading away from the nervous girl you thought you once knew.

singapore

Three

Happy birthday, Son of Singapore.

singapore

Pour que tu m'aimes encore – Part 2

You first met her four years ago, when she was working the auto show. She was dressed in a short shiny blue dress, a white bolero and white boots. With her hair tied up in a ponytail, you couldn’t help but think that she was one of the most beautiful girls you had ever seen.

You remember the way she spoke, her words strong and deliberate, as though she rehearsed each line in her mind before speaking. You remember the way she carefully looked at you as she spoke, as though trying to size up your intentions, too used to unwanted attention, and too weary.

singapore

Pour que tu m'aimes encore - Part 1

You’re absentmindedly flipping through a business magazine when you see her in a new ad. This time she’s poised on the seat by herself, long legs coiled up and head tilted to one side, drawing the reader’s eyes to her graceful slender neck and almost magical smile.

Remembering that it’d been months since the two of you last spoke, you decide to send her a text. She always said you were the first to alert her when her campaigns finally appeared. You wonder how long she will take to reply and wonder if you should suggest meeting up.

After some minutes, your phone starts to beep. You stare at it for a while, wondering what to do next.

Je deviendrai ces autres qui te donnent du plaisir
Vos jeux seront les nôtres si tel est ton désir
Plus brillante plus belle pour une autre étincelle
Je me changerai en or pour que tu m'aimes encore

singapore

Waiting - Part 4

A split second lack of attention. You’d rounded the corner and almost walked into her. She seems to stare right into you, oblivious to the near collision, her mind lost in thought and faraway. You’d seen her in the building dozens of times before. Always dressed in black, usually in pants or an occasional knee-length skirt, black flats, black hair band and long tresses layered at the back.

She shuffles to the side to let you past. You keep on walking, turning back to look at her go and wondering when you might chance upon her again. A minute later, you realise you're going the wrong way, all because of a split second lack of attention.

singapore

Fearless

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling tired from standing for so long. In the next gallery, a man in his early twenties wearing a pink long-sleeved shirt, a pink floral skirt and brown Birkenstocks stood clucking to himself in front of a piece by Mark Bradford, which was one of her favourites. What she loved about this job was that it allowed her to be so close to the art that she admired, like the Anish Kapoor pieces, which she now shepherded.

At some point, you mustered the courage to talk to her. She turned to you with expectant eyes, a shade of green and grey just like Alisa’s from so many years ago.

singapore

Kim - Part 1

It was always on and off with her, a relationship that always seemed to tether on the brink of developing into something more serious, but that ultimately never did.

She said she thought Asians looked cool because of their jet black hair. At first, you took that at face value, and dismissed her comment as curious and slightly silly. Over time, you began to suspect that perhaps she liked you for what you represented, rather than for who you were, and that annoyed you.

singapore

37°2 le matin

Your dates were always interested in hearing about the strange, exotic movies that you’d seen overseas, and that weren’t available in Singapore. The ones that began with the protagonists fornicating in the heat of the night, or that revolve around a man watching his favourite stripper going through her schoolgirl routine night after night in a Toronto club.

They listened intently as you set the scene, turning the celluloid into words and the words into images in their minds. They nodded sagely as you described each vivid movement, each tortured expression, each stolen kiss.

singapore

Kismet - Part 6

You’re nervous, wondering what you would do if she doesn’t laugh or isn’t that interested. The sense of not being in total control is something you haven’t experienced in a while, slightly worrying yet strangely exciting.

singapore

Life Stories - Part 4

Valerie was the prettiest girl in your JC, as far as you were concerned. A year older and a school runner, she had a lean, athletic body and long slender legs. She always sported a page boy haircut that nicely complemented her soft-looking, oval face, giving her a quintessentially Chinese look.

There was one particular conversation with her that you’ll never forget.

“Do you ever wonder why things happen the way they do?” you’d asked, thinking of Jungian synchronicity.

“All the time,” she replied, tugging nervously on the collar of her uniform, scanning the canteen with weary eyes.

singapore

How To Date SQ Girls - Part 5

In the two years you hadn’t seen her, you’d forgotten how tall she was. Even now, seated at a table in the cosy second floor restaurant off Boat Quay, you suspect she’s leaning forward in a vain effort to make herself seem shorter, her long slender torso canted to one side as she tells you excitedly about her new job, three days in.

A group of six men walk noisily across the dark hardwood floor, taking their seats at the next table, set several feet away. Throughout your meal, you notice them looking over from time to time, studying her and the way she waves her long slender fingers as she talks. You can’t work out whether this is because of the copious amounts of red wine the men are consuming, or because there aren’t any other pretty girls to stare at in the restaurant. From her seat, she doesn’t seem to notice them, or perhaps she’s just trained herself not to notice people staring at her. She speaks with you animatedly, reciting the job pointers you give her, as though she’s trying to commit them to memory.

At one point she turns to look for a waiter. Through a gap between the buttons at the front of her blouse, you see a sliver of lacy black lingerie. As she begins to turn back, you avert your eyes just in time, focusing on a window frame just off to her right. She continues to talk, changing topic and picking up speed, slender fingers still waving in the air.

singapore

Fastlove - Part 4

It’s a quarter past twelve when she gets into your car, swinging herself into the seat with a practised grace. As you reach for the gearshift, your eyes can’t help but notice the goose bumps on her slender legs, no doubt a reaction to the sudden change from the humidity outside to the cool air now surrounding her.

Your eyes linger a moment longer than they probably should, and you wonder if she noticed. She turns to face you, her hand flicking aside the strands of her long blonde hair.

singapore

Breathe

Her CD arrived in the mail today. The one she’d mentioned in a chance meeting a few weeks ago, in the course of a simple and plain conversation, catching up on many years of being out of touch.

It came in a padded white envelope with foreign stamps and a customs declaration. You take it out and look at the picture on the cover, and decide that she looks more or less the same. The case looks fairly new, although the back is stamped with the word “Sample” in dark red letters. You open it, inspecting the liner notes and noticing that the disc looks like it’s never been played, and that the liner notes look like they’ve never been taken out, true to the seller’s description.

You examine the six photos of her in the liner notes. It’s a darker, older and more knowing version of her, someone whom you almost do not recognise. You play her CD. Her voice is higher-pitched than you remember, ethereal.

You try to recall the times you spent with her, but the images are fleeting, playing hide-and-seek in your mind and not wanting to be remembered. You wonder if she ever realised how much you cared about her and how much you wanted to be with her. This woman, then a girl, who changed your life more than she will ever know. This girl, now a woman, who at one point was the greatest love in your life. Who was, and perhaps always will be.

And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time
All the time

singapore

Kismet - Part 5

In another time, at another place, she’d be your girl.

If she wasn’t already dating someone else, if things weren’t so complicated, if you both had more time.

For now, you just observe her from a distance, listening to the things she says, watching the way she moves her hands, studying her pixie face and her many varied expressions as she talks to you.

singapore

Two

Happy birthday, Son of Singapore.

I say love will come to you
Hoping just because I spoke the words that they're true
As if I've offered up a crystal ball to look through
Where there's now one there will be two

singapore

Teardrops - Part 1

The day after the breakup, she cut her hair short, adopting a pageboy look that quite suited her roundish face. Within a week she had quit her job, and just over two weeks later, she finds herself in a window seat waiting for the nearly empty plane to take off and bring her home to her parents, childhood friends and hopefully, the opportunity to start over.

She takes a deep breath, trying to slow down her pulse. The previous days had become a blur, of a frantic garage sale to sell her sofa and TV, of filling small cardboard boxes with clothes and books and CDs, of throwing away years of mementos, photos and memories in large black garbage bags.

She isn’t sure if she’s making the right decision by leaving this city and this life, but she’s tired of the bags under her eyes and of the constant confusion and the pain. She closes her eyes tightly as the aircraft finally taxies down the runway, gathering speed and lifting her into a cloudless August sky.

Footsteps on the dance floor
Remind me baby of you
Teardrops in my eyes
Next time I'll be true

singapore

Voices Carry - Part 1

Like clockwork she appears a little after noon, crossing the pink tiled floor of the airy café just off Raffles Place, which will soon fill up with customers looking for their fix of sandwiches, salads and famous cupcakes.

The first time you saw her about a month ago she was wearing a tight-fitting white knit top over a simple camel coloured skirt. Today she’s similarly dressed, but rather more businesslike in a dark blue skirt and a silky black blouse. You can’t help but think how a string of pearls, a Hermès scarf and a Birkin bag could dress up either outfit and instantly transform her into one of the ladies who lunch in the 16th arrondissement, or a youngish Sloane Square soccer mom with a Range Rover or Lexus SUV parked around the corner.

Your eyes linger over her slim frame as she lines up at the self-service counter with her back to you, and you notice how she absentmindedly crosses her left foot behind her right one as she waits, three inch stiletto heel dangling in the air. The back of her blouse is meticulously tucked into her tight-fitting skirt, pleats and visible lines lining up symmetrically.

She heads over after buying her lunch, together with a colleague, who’s similarly attired in a slim grey skirt and black blouse, first two buttons undone. They sit down at a table close to you. The first time you saw her she shared a big salad with her colleague. Today they have individual salads whilst a bowl of soup sits squarely between them.

Her tanned complexion, long straight hair and pretty face make her seem at once youthful yet mature. You hear snatches of their conversation, in perfect English, peppered with parochial slang. They’re chatting about their food and a big Hollywood movie that’s in cinemas at the moment. You wonder what else she gets up to, where she went to school, whether she reads Baudelaire or chick lit, whether her iPod nano carries Editors or Enrique, whether her movie tastes run to Sundance selections.

You step out of the fantasy you’ve invented for her, having lingered just a little too long on your long black, now cold and somewhat uninviting. It’s just before 12:30 pm on a Tuesday as you step back onto a cloudy Raffles Place, but already you’re looking forward to next week.

singapore

Rain - Part 2

You’re sitting at a table under the five-foot-way outside your favourite kopitiam, along a street lined with conservation shop-houses. Breakfast today comprises two orders of kaya toast, two runny eggs and a cup of steaming hot kopi-o.

It starts to rain quite heavily, and you watch as the water runs over the roof of your car and trickles down the back and over the rear bumper, collecting in a puddle at the side of the road.

You think back to the garden in your parents’ house, where as a young boy you squatted under the car porch, watching the raindrops splash down, forming muddy puddles in the grass. You could spend hours just staring at the rain and the puddles, breathing in the cool, fresh air. It seems like such a long time ago, in an age before deadlines and meetings and the various other machinations of working life that bring you alternating happiness and anxiety.

singapore

Waiting - Part 3

A man in his late fifties or early sixties with big square rimmed glasses and a fedora asks if he can share your table. He’s wearing a brown tweed jacket over a camel coloured argyle sweater over a teal coloured shirt over a white inner shirt, despite the fact that it’s a balmy July morning. There’s a small yellow cloth flower pinned on the lapel of his jacket, which captures your attention for some reason.

He lights up a Marlboro red, and proceeds to alternate each drag of the cigarette, held in his left hand, with a sip from a big cup of cappuccino, held with his right hand. He does this for about three minutes, finishing both his cigarette and his coffee at approximately the same time. He gets up to leave, saying “thank you” with a slight nod of his head, before he turns and shuffles away into the crowd.

singapore

Paddington

It’s 6 am in the morning and you’ve just gotten off the train from the airport. You have two hours to kill before your first meeting of the day.

You find a nearby café and settle in at a sidewalk table with a cappuccino and a croissant, still hungry despite a full continental breakfast a couple of hours earlier, courtesy of Singapore Airlines, still a great way to fly.

A middle-aged couple, American you’re guessing, walk past holding hands and pulling along matching tan luggage with floral trim. Somehow you feel a bit envious. You plug in the radio on your mobile phone, hoping to listen to some Britpop but sadly finding Nelly Furtado and the Pussycat Dolls.

It’s been eight years since the last time you were in London. Memories flood in of her tiny flat in Belsize Park, of languid smoky nights in the basement club of a hip Moroccan restaurant on Regent Street, of the convey belt sushi restaurant in Soho that was all the rage back then, of the murderous NCP car park charges and wheel clamps on your black Mercedes. You laugh to yourself, startling the woman at the next table. You give her a quick smile, and turn back to observe as the city begins to awaken from its slumber. More people walk past, dressed almost invariably in dark greys and black, taking quick determined strides, striving for destinations as yet unknown.

singapore

Velvet - Part 1

She leans sharply forward and grabs your right wrist, turning your palm upwards. Your eyes move downwards, ineluctably following the plunging neckline of her sleek black dress. She starts to look up, and your eyes race upwards, hoping you won’t be discovered. Your eyes meet hers and she laughs, knowingly.

singapore

The Roaring 20s - Part 2

One of the most intense relationships you ever had lasted exactly one week, from the first time you met her over plates of char kway teow at lunchtime on a Friday, to the last time you said goodbye, exactly seven and a half days later, just past midnight at the wine bar at Zouk.

Sometimes you wonder whether that relationship might have had some hidden mileage in it that prematurely vanished that fateful Friday night. When you think back to that week, you remember certain bits and pieces more vividly than others, like the flickering fragments of some old film.

There was an evening earlier in the week, when you waited for her on the landing outside her flat, as she hurried about inside gathering some clothes and things so that she could stay over at your place. You remember looking out at the next block of flats, and noticing how the setting sun had cast beautiful purple and orange streaks in the sky. You remember that you didn’t want to go into the flat and meet her family, that things were progressing quite quickly, and that you weren’t sure how long it would last. But most of all you remember the setting sun and the beautiful sky.

Sometimes you scroll through your phone list, and think about calling her, but you always end up putting the phone away. Sometimes some things are better left in the past, and it’s been years since you said goodbye.

singapore

Life Stories - Part 3

At some point there were two women who entered your life at the same time.

One was shy and reserved, always dressed conservatively in knee length skirts and slightly frilly blouses in muted tones of olive, grey and black. The other was vivacious and tanned, wore her hair in a ponytail, dressed in tight fitting dresses and short skirts in primary colours and neon tones.

One seemed to whisper “I’m here, I’ll be here for you” while the other shouted “I’m here, here and now.”

It didn’t take long for you to decide which one to pursue. Like a moth to a flame.

singapore

Fastlove - Part 3

“Do you love me?” you ask.

She takes a sidelong look at you.

“If I said I did now, I’d be lying,” she says, in crisp, unaccented English.

singapore

The Roaring 20s - Part 1

There was a moment when your desire for her turned into disgust for yourself.

You looked around the room, glancing over framed pictures of her and her family, studying the tired teak furniture and listening to the soft purring of the air-conditioner. She slept beside you, unaware that you were awake. You could hear her soft breathing, which seemed loudly to you than it actually was.

“What the hell am I doing here?” you remember thinking to yourself.

Almost silently, you gathered your belongings and slipped out the bedroom and slipped out the front door.

Outside it was about 5 am in the morning. You walked along the corridor, glancing down to see your car illegally parked below, wondering which route would get you home, as quickly as possible.

singapore

Everything Counts

You wake up in the morning to the radio, tuned to a station named after a perfect score on a test.

When you drive to work, the guy next to you at the lights slowly looks you over, probably hating you for being younger and driving a nicer car than him.

In the office, you’re hit by a constant barrage of emails, phone calls, instant and text messages, leaving you little time to gaze out your window and enjoy the breathtaking view of the city.

When you party at night, the first question from almost every girl you meet is “what do you do for a living?”

Sometimes you leave the clubs around midnight, taking long slow drives by yourself down a sodium-lit Shenton Way just for the hell of it, looking up to see some office windows still burning bright, wondering to yourself what everyone’s working so hard for, these days.

singapore

Kismet - Part 4

There was a moment that evening when everything just seemed more lucid. When superfluous sounds faded away, when your vision only registered what was immediately in front of you. When you focused all your attention on her, on the movements of her hands, on how she was dressed, on how she was seated, legs crossed, on the faint floral scent she left in the air. Strangely you didn’t seem to register what she was saying, although you knew it was about some book she’d read, or some movie she’d seen.

Your mind raced to store this amongst the catalogue of cinematic moments in your life, knowing that somehow, this event would change things, forever.

singapore

Life Stories - Part 2

You bought your first jazz albums during your JC days because of a girl named Lynette who loved Ella and Coltrane.

You started taking tennis more seriously later that same year because of a girl named Karen.

Although you’d been watching operas since you were 15, you first appreciated them when you saw Madama Butterfly at the university cultural centre, ironically with a Japanese-American girl named Yoko who’d never dated Asian guys.

You first read Don DeLillo later that same year, when a girl named Eileen in Introduction to Anthropology recommended White Noise.

Every girl teaches you something about yourself.

singapore

Fastlove - Part 2

You’re driving her black BMW coupe faster than you should. Thankfully the elevated road heading to Central is almost deserted at this time of night. The car flies over the tarmac, thudding softly each time it crosses an expansion joint.

It’s about a month before the handover and the mood in the city is mixed. Some dread the change, whilst others are euphoric, expectant.

Her two best friends have moved with their families, seeking new pastures in Canada and Australia. Her parents decided to stay, “to see what happens,” as she says, deadpan.

An exit looms ahead, and she signals for you to turn off. You go hard on the brakes, and the tires squeal as the car negotiates the bend, descending rapidly to street level.

singapore

Fastlove - Part 1

A yellow Gallardo lines up next to you at the lights.

You turn and see the girl in the passenger seat looking at you and your car, making sure that you see her. You suspect she’s trying real hard to look bored, just as the lights go green and the Lambo takes off, spinning its wheels for a split second before exploding down the road towards the next set of lights.

I cannot live
I can't breathe
Unless you do this with me

singapore

Kismet - Part 3

Of all the girls you’d dated, she probably had the most exotic name. The most fabulous, the most unique, conjuring up grainy images of distant lands and romantic sunsets. Reminding you that fate played a crucial role in affairs of the heart. Reminding you that in life, there are always things that lie beyond your control.

You wondered how her name may have changed the way she led her life. How it may have changed the way she related to you. You never found the answers to those questions, as the relationship started to spiral downwards, flinging you further and further apart.

singapore

Summer

It was a hot day in July when she packed her stuff and moved out. You had argued because she’d once again left the air-conditioning on all day whilst you were both out, a wasteful habit that annoyed you.

The apartment was unusually quiet as you sat on the couch, alone.

Outside the sun had yet to set but the streetlights had already come on. You saw two kids in the distance, running in an open field, flying white kites.

You could hear her favourite song playing over and over in your head, as you wondered if she would return.

singapore

Linjiang Street

The stamp on the back of your right hand is still visible, administered twenty-four hours earlier by the bouncer at a dark club playing a curious but pleasant mix of Chinese R&B and European house music. That’s where you met her.

She crosses her long legs and leans forward on the metal stool, deftly using the thin wooden chopsticks to lift a piece of chou dofu to your lips. The skin has a crispy texture, yielding warm and smooth tofu that you slide across your tongue.

Every now and then, you notice a guy in the passing crowd taking a second look at her – this tall, pretty, elfin-faced girl with a perfect milky complexion, feeding you with a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks.

You close your eyes and savour the moment. The noise of the crowd, the refreshingly chilly air, the fragrance of the foods mixing with her faint perfume. Right here, right now.

singapore

Happy

She’s dancing by herself now, her petite body swaying from side to side along with the quick tempo, feet more or less on the same spot on the small, crowded dance floor.

She’s got on a short tube dress, in a black satiny material covered in a pattern made up of white spades. For a moment, you wonder how different she would look if the pattern were made up of red hearts, silver diamonds or gold clubs.

Her eyes are shut and there’s a smile on her lips. Her hands move in a constant, circular motion in front of her face. She starts to mouth the words to the song, her bright satiny pink nail polish glinting every now and then.

It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, let me go

singapore

The Moment

It’s close to midnight as the big yellow cab speeds eastwards to the city, the driver impatiently flashing his lights at slower traffic, bullying them to move to the right.

Tomorrow she would leave Singapore, spending a week with her parents on the mainland before heading to Australia to join her sister, possibly never to see you again.

She picks up after three rings, the poor connection making her voice sound faraway, and weak.

“Fang xin, li kai wo,” she says, echoing the first song you heard her sing, long ago.

“Take care of yourself,” you reply, instantly hating the long pause that follows.

singapore

Saturday afternoon 1:43 pm

From what I can see, it isn’t going too well.

She arrived on the dot at 1 pm, in an elegant black halter top and nicely pleated black knee-length skirt, and sat down at the table next to mine on the open terrace of the restaurant, located in a quaint residential neighbourhood.

He shows up over twenty minutes later, noisily making his apologies. She stares at him for a moment, taking in his outfit of light grey tee-shirt, khaki berms and brown Teva sandals.

They scan their menus and order their meals, without really speaking to each other. He starts recounting his morning, probably speaking a little louder than necessary, but she doesn’t seem to be very interested. She checks her phone for messages, pausing to thank the waitress for the two flutes of champagne.

At some point, he stops talking and raises his glass for a toast. She obliges, clinking glasses with him almost half-heartedly and giving a weak, forced smile that looks a bit like a smirk, before turning away and staring into the street.

singapore

Waiting - Part 2

She leans against you as the cab rounds the corner a little faster than expected. She laughs, smiling at you with a big grin. Her bright white teeth contrast with her dark luscious lips, and her eyes light up, seemingly with a simple sense of happiness.

The car passes yet another beautiful chedi along the road that lines the old town wall, and you find yourself thinking how majestic it all must have looked, long before the tourists started to arrive and the five-star hotels started to mushroom all around.

Today, her straight black hair is tied back in a bouncy ponytail, making her look younger than 23. She runs her right hand through her fringe, her silver bracelet glinting for a moment in the bright sunlight.

“Suay ngaam,” you say, although she speaks perfect English.

She laughs at your accent, her big brown eyes twinkling once again.

singapore

Kismet - Part 2

Beautiful women sometimes appear when you least expect it. Crossing Orchard Road from Borders to Lido, when you’re the first car at the lights. Manning a roadside noodle stall in Sukhumvit Soi 38. On a New York subway train in the middle of a scorching summer. On the opposite escalator in Ngee Ann City. Anywhere and just about everywhere in central Paris.

They appear and disappear, equally quickly. You stop, you pause, sometimes you even turn around. The image always lingers, sometimes for a minute, sometimes for much longer.

singapore

Life Stories - Part 1

There are many thoughts, ideas, sayings and teachings that you internalize over time, and which inform your decisions as you go along in life.

A friend of mine used to say that if you liked a woman, then you should treat her as best you can, simply because if you don’t, someone else will. And all things being equal, assuming that a certain base chemistry’s already in place, why should she hang out with you when she can find someone else who will give her more attention, lavish more thoughtful gifts, and simply be more available?

Over the years, I’ve also come to realise that the sheer number of hours you spend, or the dollar value of your gifts, don’t really mean a lot when it comes to someone who really matters. Sometimes, spending more time or more money works against you in the end, for a myriad of reasons.

singapore

Shopgirl - Part 2

Her immaculately-tailored wide-legged black woolen pants hang nicely from her hips. The thin material sways slightly whenever she moves, and the seams just touch the carpet behind the heels of her black pumps. She wears a charcoal grey V-neck top, its slightly stretchy material accentuating her curves. She slips on a fitted black woolen jacket, fastening the single button before pulling on the bottom hems and patting the material at waist level.

Beyond the door, her colleagues are getting the store ready for the day. They are switching on the lights, unlocking the large glass doors, and checking the racks of dresses, skirts, pants, tops and suits, all neatly arranged by colour throughout the store. This season the various sections are mainly black, silver grey, camel, dark red and lavender.

She looks at herself carefully in the mirror, examining her foundation before touching up her black mascara, which contrasts against the playful light green eye shadow that she has on. She purses her lips, deciding that her lipstick looks alright.

She takes one step back, pulls on the hems again and checks herself in the mirror, as the small diamonds that line her wedding band glitter for a moment under the solitary halogen light.

singapore

So sick

It’s late in the morning when he finally awakes. He walks into his kitchen and towards the wide open windows, lighting up his first cigarette for the day. He leans with his elbows on the window sill, absentmindedly looking at the ground below, as a couple of cars snake through the parking lot and several children run around noisily on the playground some distance away.

He turns to look at the empty kitchen. Not that long ago, Sunday mornings saw it filling up with smells of fresh coffee, as they sat together at the small dining table and shared some kaya toast and runny eggs, both of them reading the morning papers in silence.

He’s trying to remember the details when his mobile phone suddenly beeps with an incoming message. He picks up the phone and sees that it’s the girl he’d met the night before, asking him what he’s doing, and whether he wants to meet up. He takes a long drag on his cigarette, slowly composing his reply in his head, wondering how to come across interested, yet not too eager.

And I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
So done with wishing you were still here

singapore

Kismet - Part 1

You’re sitting on a high chair in the window of a café, watching people pass on the pavement outside, when a pretty girl in a black skirt suit walks by.

“If she turns back to look, it’s meant to be,” you tell yourself.

Her fast, confident strides take her up the street quite quickly. You keep looking as she moves further away, your eyes focused on her long black hair, silently willing her to turn around.

singapore

Friday night 1 am

The bar is full of gweilo patrons. You lean against the long counter, watching as your friends down tequila shots and laugh out loud at jokes that probably wouldn’t seem that funny sans alcohol. The music is a mishmash of current Top 40 chart hits, old school 70s American rock songs and the occasional 80s New Wave Britpop single.

At a nearby table, two cute blonde girls who look like tourists (one of them is holding a compact camera) lean forward in their seats, straining to hear a guy in a pinstripe suit, who’s holding a Heineken in one hand and probably trying some standard pick-up lines.

You notice a pair of local promo girls making their way closer to where you are. The taller one strikes you as quite attractive, in a shiny tight-fitting sleeveless orange Jägermeister top, black miniskirt and black boots. She and her colleague each down a shot, at the same time as the four men in the group they are talking to.

She turns in your direction and you notice that she’s wearing light brown coloured contact lenses. Her cheeks have a reddish hue, probably from the numerous shots she’s had tonight. She sees you looking at her and smiles, nodding her head slightly, before the other girl grabs her hand and leads her away to another group of revellers.

singapore

How To Date SQ Girls - Part 4

The first time you dated an SQ girl you were about 19 or 20 years old.

You had taken a week off from the army and flown to Europe with a couple of buddies. On the flight up, you were seated on an exit row, across from the jump seat which she occupied during some bad turbulence halfway through the flight.

You chatted with her and discovered she was about your age, and had just joined the airline after leaving the poly. This was one of her first long-haul flights. You both seemed to like the same sort of movies, and played the same computer games back home.

You asked where she was staying so she gave you the name of the crew hotel, and asked you to call. When you called the next day, she said she’d been put on standby and thus couldn’t leave her room. The two of you chatted for about half-an-hour, whilst your buddies paced up and down and kept pointing at their watches, wanting to go out. She gave you her Singapore number, and asked you to call.

About a month passed before you met up again. You caught some forgettable movie, and spent the next two-and-a-half hours sharing an Earthquake at Swensen’s and talking.

A week later she gave you a copy of her schedule and taught you how to read a block pattern, deciphering the airport codes for you.

The next day she called you from a payphone at the airport as she was about to board the plane. You remember your heart beating fast as you listened to her, imagining how she must have looked in her sarong kebaya.

singapore

The hallway

She turns back to look at you several times as she leads you down the hallway, smiling vivaciously and laughing softly.

Her black dress fits her perfectly, and you admire the milky smooth skin of her exposed back and her long shiny black tresses that bounce with each step she takes.

When she reaches her door, she fumbles with her clutch bag, digging inside to find her keycard. She slides it into the reader and you hear a soft click, and a green light flashes as she pushes down on the handle and swings the door open.

She steps into the darkness of the room, leaving you standing in the hallway, but only for a moment.

singapore

Queen's Road Central

You seem like an incongruous pair, standing on the street corner, waiting for the light to change.

She’s wearing a bright green tight-fitting sleeveless top, trimmed in dark blue around the armholes and the plunging V neck. Her pants are soft dark blue cotton, again tight-fitting and looking almost like gym gear, ending in a pair of small white leather sneakers. She clutches a colourful Anya Hindmarch tote bag in one hand, a small black paper bag poking out the top. She’s about half a head shorter than you, and her long straight black hair is highlighted with streaks of orangey-brown. Her tanned skin has a healthy glow and her face bears a rosy tinge.

You have on a regulation navy blue suit, single-breasted with three buttons (last one unbuttoned) and angular black shoes polished to a high shine.

The light changes and she crosses the street. You watch her for a few seconds as she turns upon reaching the other side and heads towards the Pedder Building, before she merges with the crowd and disappears.

singapore

Waiting - Part 1

She looks out the window at the wide avenue, through an intricate wrought iron grille. An endless stream of bicycles flows past, punctuated by an occasional red taxi zooming by and sounding its horn. Diagonally across the street is an elegant colonial-style building with a traditional art deco porch, like the ones that cover some Métro entrances in central Paris.

She’s wearing a traditional ao dai, the fitted emerald green top accentuating the curves of her slender body, covering golden pants whose wide hems kiss the patterned caramel carpet as she turns and makes her way back towards the main door.

The large high-ceilinged room is bright and airy. Each table is covered in freshly-ironed white linen, with thickly-padded cream-coloured chairs pulled close and spaced apart at uniform intervals. The table settings are simple, with expensive white china, crystal glasses and silver flatware. On each table, a cut red rose sits in a small light brown pot, adding a dash of red and green to the room’s warm white and tan palette.

She brings a few menus to the high table next to the entrance of the restaurant, and sets them down next to the black telephone and the big vase of red roses.

She opens one of the menus, caressing the thick paper and scanning the immaculately-presented list of dishes. She wonders what her first guests for the day will order, and then decides it will be bouillabaisse and rack of lamb.

She shuts the menu and waits, as the faint sound of another car horn comes, and goes.

singapore

How To Date SQ Girls - Part 3

There’s a little mole on the back of her neck, towards the left, and another, almost identical one a couple of inches from the top of her back, this time closer to her spine. Her neck looks long and delicate, perfectly upright as her hands deftly pull her long shiny black hair into a big bun.

A day later she calls you from the other side of the world.

“Do you miss me?”

Her voice sounds thin and distant, echoing slightly in the silence of her hotel room.

singapore

Tunnels

It’s getting close to KL when the sun begins to rise over the highway. The car’s running low on gas and the front end has begun to bob up and down over imperfections in the tarmac. It’s getting lighter, and going faster.

On the stereo, the same song plays on repeat.

You change all the lead
Sleepin' in my head to gold
As the day grows dim
I hear you sing a golden hymn
The song I've been trying to sing

Purify the colours
Purify my mind
Purify the colours
Purify my mind
Spread the ashes of the colours
Around this heart of mine

singapore

Rain - Part 1

It’s raining heavily when you turn off North Bridge Road and pull into the covered driveway of the Raffles Hotel. There’s a long line of people waiting for cabs, and they look at you as your car comes to a stop a few feet away.

She pushes open the door, and curses when her short skirt rides up as she swings her left leg out of the car. She turns to you momentarily to say thanks, and smiles as she scrambles up and out, rushing for her dinner, already twenty minutes late.

As you slip the car into gear, you notice the girl at the head of the taxi queue. Almond-shaped face, big bright eyes, slim frosted pink lips with a hint of a smile. She’s wearing a dark red dress, and has slung the handles of her shopping bags from Nine West and Mango over her forearm. Her long, straight hair has a reddish-brown tint, with the fringe swept to one side and bangs nicely layered.

You hesitate for a moment, but you know you can’t do it. So you look away from her and drive off, checking the traffic and merging back into the rain.

singapore

Avenue

The first time you meet her is in a cavernous, trendy restaurant on St. James Street. The three of you are sitting on sofas near the bar, waiting for your table to free up, when her roommate Julie goes to the washroom. It’s too noisy to hold a meaningful conversation, so you continue nursing your drink and surveying the room.

She empties her glass and reaches forward to place it on the table, and then rubs her hands dry on her tan-coloured jeans. She takes another drag from her Virginia Slims cigarette, giving you a sidelong glance as she blows the smoke in the other direction.

Your gaze connects with hers for a second and you notice how blue her eyes are. She smiles and laughs, for no apparent reason, and then looks down as she flicks the ash from her cigarette onto the floor.

singapore

Stardust

The dance floor is packed with bodies pulsing to the relentless house rhythm when suddenly she turns to you and holds your face with both of her hands before reaching in to kiss you. Instinctively you pull her closer, left arm around her shoulders and right hand tracing the small of her back.

The music, the people, the heat and the vibrations all begin to melt away.

singapore

Worst Date Ever - Part 1

After the play, you head to a nice French restaurant for a late dinner. So far things are going badly. The conversation has been stilted, even boring. You’ve beginning to realise what little you both have in common.

The girl is a theatre studies major. Over her salad, which she stabs with her fork and cuts up with her knife, she proceeds to recount what happened in class earlier that day.

“We did these exercises to help focus us on getting more emotion into our acting. It works like this: you pair up with a partner and say something to that person three times, each time infusing it with more emotion.”

She takes a deep breath.

“Fuck you,” she says, matter-of-factly.

“Fuck you!” she says, much louder and more aggressive this time. The lady at the next table turns to look.

“Fuck you!!!” she practically shouts. The whole room has turned to look. You stare at her, mouth agape.

She leans forward, with a mischievous grin.

“You see that guy at the table in the corner?” she asks. “I think he wants to know if I’m going to be free after dinner.”

The guy has glasses and a beard, his wife and two kids in tow. They seem to be staring at both of you in disbelief.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You look down at your soup, knowing you’ve just reached a whole new low.

singapore

Beautiful

Sometimes you can tell a lot about a person from the music they listen to. She says that right now, she’s listening to James Blunt, Robbie Williams and Santana. More courtyard tapas bar than trendy club, more Class 95 listener than NME reader, more fuzzy woolen sweater than brushed stainless steel.

She’s starting to slur now, leaning forward to place emphasis on certain words. The neckline of her white top slips lower, partially revealing black lingerie with white trimming.

“Have you ever been tempted?” she asks, staring at you with large, intent, brown eyes, a shade darker than the streaks of colour in her hair, shoulder length with wispy bangs. You can’t help but notice how young she looks for her age. Her skin is milky white, smooth and shiny.

She pours the last of her bottle of sake into her cup. The empty dishes coated with teriyaki sauce and mustard lie haphazardly on the table. Her mobile phone blinks quietly in one corner, next to a Louis Vuitton porte-trésor and a Mercedes key fob. A group of Japanese salarymen settle in at the next table for a late night dinner, talking and laughing loudly.

“Have you?” she asks again, a little more urgent. “We only have one life to live. Don’t you want to be sure you didn’t miss out on anything?”

She tells you that a person can only get at most eighty percent of what he or she needs from one single person. The other twenty percent has to come from somewhere else. You assume she means attention, but maybe also love, in its various forms.

You ask her who she is tempted by, right now. She is leaning to the right in her seat, shoulder resting against the wall. The front of her blouse has slid lower. Her skin has a red glow from the alcohol.

She tells you about him, closing her eyes, as though she’s trying to remember the details of his face. She says he is older than her. She says he is always game to do the things she wants to do. She says he makes her laugh. She stops, eyes still shut. There’s a slight smile on her lips, as though she’s enjoying the images that play silently in her mind.

Sometimes you can tell a lot about a person from the music they listen to. And sometimes you don’t need to know anything more.

I saw your face in a crowded place
And I don't know what to do
Cause I'll never be with you

singapore

One

Happy birthday, Son of Singapore.

Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl

singapore

The breakup - Part 1

The day after the breakup, the reality begins to set in. The morning was wasted replaying the previous night’s events in your mind, and by noon you know that the day will not get more productive. You decide to head home, skipping lunch and determined to sleep off the heartache.

A quarter after two, a buddy calls and you answer the phone in a semi-stupor. He asks how you’re doing and then lets you rant for a little while.

“You know,” he says with a whisper of an English accent, the product of many years studying and living in the U.K. “It’s hard to believe it right now, but things will get better. Just get some rest.”

You want to believe him but find yourself staring wide awake at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

It’s evening by the time you awake, and the clock reads 7 pm. Strangely, you feel completely refreshed, and the thought of her seems to be a distant memory. You’re hungry and the prospect of a nice bowl of laksa brings a smile to your face as you grab your car keys and head out the door.

singapore

Sunday morning 10 am

She sits on the edge of the bed in a white terrycloth bathrobe, running a brush through her damp strawberry blonde hair, her bare feet on the old parquet floor. Outside it’s a crisp September morning, and the bright autumn sun has begun to stream into the apartment through the tall windows, highlighting tiny specks of dust that float lazily through the air.

Her head is slightly tilted to one side, her eyes glued to the TV. It shows a road passing through a tunnel, the scene of a car crash, not far from where you live.

She doesn’t really notice as you stretch across the bed and put your arm around her waist, pulling yourself closer to her. Her eyes remain fixed on the television, and she continues to brush her hair, almost absentmindedly.

singapore

Thumbsucker

Many years ago, a beautiful girl told me that there’s one characteristic above all others which beautiful girls look for in guys. She didn’t, however, tell me what it is.

To this day, I am convinced that that quality is self-confidence. Not over-confidence or smugness or arrogance. Just the certainty of knowing you can handle any situation and that your knowledge is infallible.

I think.

singapore

Neighborhood #1

In my rush I’d forgotten to ask for an aisle seat, and found myself next to the window for the first time in years.

A little after 7 am, I looked out the window and saw the approaching airport and familiar F1 track. Below us people were just stirring from sleep, and the streetlights began to go out. There were only a few cars on the highways, like tiny specks of indistinguishable colours. The sun was rising over the horizon, forcing a wide swath of orange through dark grey clouds.

We seemed to be floating in the air, with the ground crawling past almost imperceptibly. For the first time in years, I stopped to take in the view, and felt a real sense of peace.

“There is much beauty here because there is much beauty everywhere.”

singapore

Like the deserts miss the rain

Everyone has one. Someone who came into your life at the wrong place and the wrong time, but who could otherwise have been The One.

Sometimes you wonder where she is. Ten years have passed since the two months you were with her, and nine years since your last phone conversation. Her family moved away around that time, and the friend through whom you’d met her lost touch with her as well.

Once in a while you Google her name on the Internet, hoping to find her. There’s always only one search that matches her name, in reference to a quote in a UCLA student paper, but the article isn’t archived and can no longer be accessed.

Ten years have passed but you still remember that last lunch with remarkable clarity. In that nice French restaurant that now no longer exists. You remember what wine you drank, and how she cradled her chin in her palm as she rested her elbow on the table.

Sometimes you wonder where she is. If she still looks the same, still uses the same perfume. If she still laughs the same way, still smiles the same way. You wonder if she’s okay. You wonder if she’s happy.

I step off the train
I'm walking down your street again
And past your door
But you don't live there any more
It's years since you've been there
But now you've disappeared
Somewhere like outer space
You've found some better place

singapore

Bed

You are looking at her when she looks up, and your eyes meet for a second, which seems longer than it really is.

The club is awash in cool blue light, and the white sofas and tables give the scene an almost eerie, almost monochromatic effect.

She’s wearing a black (or maybe dark blue) skirt suit with three inch black heels, looking very businesslike and a bit prim and proper. This makes you think she must be a banker or a lawyer. She doesn’t look Thai, so you figure she must be Thai Chinese because, although she is two tables away, you can hear the others at her table talking loudly in Thai.

She looks up again, and this time you get a better chance to study her face. She has clear skin, big eyes, a delicate nose, full lips and a strong jawline. You smile at her, hopeful. She stares for a moment, then smiles slightly, before breaking into a laugh and turning back to her friends.

You tell your Thai friends that you think she’s really pretty. One of them walks over to the bar, glancing over to take a better look. He returns and says, “She’s above average, but no one would look at her if she was on the BTS…”

The deejay begins to play Superstylin’ by Groove Armada.

The girl is laughing with her friends, and then turns and looks your way again.

Sometime
You can make our pressure does unwind
Sometime
It’s for your spirit and your mind…

singapore