Girl and City » romance http://www.girlandcity.com Coming-of-age story about a girl and her city. Mon, 06 Sep 2010 09:22:41 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0.1 The Unforgettable SassyGirl http://www.girlandcity.com/2010/09/the-unforgettable-sassygirl/ http://www.girlandcity.com/2010/09/the-unforgettable-sassygirl/#comments Sun, 05 Sep 2010 15:25:59 +0000 SassyGirl http://www.girlandcity.com/?p=1881 Here is a big “I told you so” for all the disbelievers out there when I said that I make guys want to commit.

Proof #1
Remember SHB, the boy I met in Paris? He added me immediately on Facebook, and then Skype, and although we were all over the world for the remainder of the summer, he still kept in touch despite the time differences. Today, I just had a nine-hour first date with him (possibly the longest first date ever?) and it was fabulous.

He was perfect. There were so many things I was apprehensive about, but he put all my doubts to rest. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go out with him because I’d only met him for one night in Paris, on a pub crawl no less. But he was a complete gentleman. He picked me up in a car1, even though he lives on the far east side of the island and I’m living2 on the far west side. To my delight, he was wearing a dress shirt and not “bum-ware” (a.k.a. very casual wear that Singaporeans seem to adhere to when they’re not in work clothes. In other words, everything I own is too dressy for casual clothes by Singaporean standards, to my chagrin.). He took me to Sentosa, a resort island off the coast of Singapore that has pretty much everything: resorts, casino, Universal Studios, Underwater World, beaches, shows, etc. We had lunch on a beach patio, watched a pink dolphin show, walked through an underwater tunnel, went up the Merlion, and sat side-by-side watching the fireworks from our very own viewing spot (instead of paying to see the show). All the while, he kept it very real: he didn’t shower me with praise, wasn’t very flirtatious, didn’t try to show off, etc. so much so that I almost thought: “Is he even into me? Or does he just want to be friends?” But my fears were laid to rest. Although we spent most of the day walking around with little physical contact, by the end of the night we were holding hands. If he wants to take things slow, that’s absolutely fine by me.

Proof #2
Remember LAC, the (second) guy I met in Shanghai? I met him one night in a club. The next night he takes my friend and I out for karaoke and we have a very memorable time. After I left Shanghai, he sent me a bizarre email that ended with well-wishes for the future, so I assumed he did not mean to keep in touch and was very disappointed. This would have been one of the first times that a guy I wanted to keep in touch with didn’t return the sentiment. After his “good luck and farewell” email, I wrote him off completely and didn’t contact him again. A few days ago, he sent me an email asking how I was, saying that he couldn’t stop thinking about me and that he wanted to come to Singapore (to see me?). So I guess he did intend on keeping in touch (although I still don’t know what that bizarre email was about) and I got upset for nothing.

Proof #3
Remember PLB, the guy I almost-dated in The Business School? He unceremoniously canceled our date, after which I wrote him off, after which he still tried to be friends (or something) with me, after which he kissed me at the year-end banquet and a few hours later was grinding and making out with some random chick on the dance floor. A week or so ago, he sent me an email with pictures of his new home in Vancouver (he got a job in Vancouver in the end) and invited me to visit him if I ever got the chance, with the implication that I would be welcome to stay with him. Not a chance.

BAM, BAM, and BAM. Three proofs within the last two weeks that boys just can’t seem to let me go. Even when I meet guys in clubbing situations, they always, always follow-up, usually by texting immediately the following day and calling or meeting up again after that3, I don’t know what it is, but apparently I’m a very memorable girl.

  1. It’s very, very expensive to own a car in Singapore. At least 3 times the cost of owning a car in North America.
  2. Did I mention I found a place? I’m now renting a master bedroom in a condo in the west side of Singapore. It’s a bit far from work by Singaporean standards (definitely not by North American standards) but the condo facilities are fantastic and rent is relatively cheap.
  3. The three most recent examples would be SHB, LAC, and FPB.
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My absolute favourite romance-comedy has to be Bridget Jones’ Diary. I am in love with the character of Bridget Jones. And I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think the reason Miss Jones appeals to the modern-day woman is that she is the real deal. Nothing about her is perfect. Even her imperfections aren’t perfect. Her diary lets us peer into her innermost thoughts – unabashed hopes, embarrassing fantasies, and the inevitable disappointment when illusion fails to make the transition into reality.
When you watch Bridget Jones, you realize that this character is not a figment of imagination at all. This character exists somewhere in the world – perhaps she even exists everywhere, in all of us. We share her insecurities about our “wobbly bits,” our lack of “legs that go up to there,” and our uncanny ability to make a fool of ourselves. When she’s down, she either sings along to Celine Dion in a drunken stupor and attempts to smoke herself to death, or befriends Ben and Jerry in front of the telly (the latter method is one I’m quite familiar with, and partial to, myself). Yet eventually, inevitably, she pulls herself together and faces the world. She realizes that she has to stand up for herself, because no one else is going to do it for her.
When she finally meets “Mr. Right” after one too many run-ins with “Mr. Wrong,” she can’t quite get herself to trust him. Why? Fundamental truth to most women when we finally meet “Mr. Right”: we don’t think we’re enough. Not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not tall enough, not smart enough, not athletic enough, not funny enough… just not enough. Never enough. And when we see “Mr. Right” with a leggy co-worker, the inadequacies hit home. “Maybe he’d be happier without me. He deserves better anyway,” are just a few of the thoughts running through our minds. The difference between “Mr. Right” and “Mr. Almost Right” is that “Mr. Right” should be able to convince us – eventually – that we are enough.
We all go through that phase. And that’s what astonishes me about Bridget Jones. She is so real. I feel as though I am watching a British version of myself on the screen. I mean, yes, there are many differences between myself and Miss Jones, but our personalities share stunning parallels. I never think before I open my mouth, and therefore, have embarrassed myself one too many times. I have the uncanny ability to command total silence around a room just as I say something incredibly awkward. I try to eat myself to death when I’m down. And, as much as I hate to admit this, I love Celine Dion. The only thing I can cook are omelets. I start out a relationship feeling on top of the world, then soon digress into a series of doubts and suspicions. And finally, I have a kept a diary for as long as I’ve known how to write.
But at least I don’t own leopard-print underwear.

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