A colleague asked me last Friday, in one of our office-nights out, " So, have you meet the guy who will love you for who you are, care for you for the rest of your life & treat you like a Queen? "
" What are you talking about, KC? I found him already. He's at home right now, most probably watching some Canto drama on TV! My Dad will love me for who I am, fat or thin, rich or poor, young or old"
(KC smirked) " You gotta go out more, girl..."
Aaah. The great, big mystery on why I am still single.
But this post is not about me. It's about the man who will love me for who I am.
My earliest memories of him was when I was about 7years old. He was on shift work at that time and I clearly remember I would be sad the each time he leaves for work at night, because I knew he would not be there to tuck me to bed. As a child, I didn't know how to tell him that. I just stood at the door and watched him whizz into darkness until my tiny stature could no longer catch his view.
In the next morning, I will wake up fully covered with blanket from shoulder to toes. And he would be in the next room, sleeping, snoring away. Being the unfeminine sleeper that I am, I knew that it was he who covered my blanket. Every morning without fail, I would wake up to my blanket fully covered on me.
My next memory was when I was about 10+. It was the time my Mom & I would challenge to get his attention. At least thats how I felt, not sure about Mom. It was that period where I felt I cannot lose to Mom. I want to be his favourite girl not Mom.
Whenever Mom showed him a new skirt she bought, I would run upstairs, put on my favourite dress and parade to him hoping he will like my dress more than Mom's skirt. Whenever Mom cooked him his favourite meal, I would quickly go to the fridge and give him my favourite Vitagen, hoping he likes Vitagen more than the meal. And in each quest, I felt I reigned victory, because he would place a KitKat bar in my lunchbox the following day.
Our relationship wasn't so rosy when I grew older. You see, he was a short-tempered man. Very quickly to raise his voice at the slightest irk. Very quickly to say nasty things when he is angry.
When I grew older, I had the courage to yell back. Teenaged suppressed angst. He would raise his voice when I come home past the agreed time and I would yell back, I am old enough daddy!
However, this always results in me crying in my room immediately after. It never ends on a happy note.
His hair is all grey now even his beard. He has lost his most of his bulging belly and his back is easily susceptible to sprains & twists. His skin is wrinkly and he has lost most of his teeth. Yet to me, he is still the most good looking man. Ever.
Because of him, I am the intelligent, attractive young lady I am.
His temper is still there. He still shouts & get angry. However, I don't yell back anymore. I just keep quiet, let him rant all his steam, then calmly say " You are angry right now. Calm down, it's not good for your blood pressure. I will leave you alone."
The following day, as though nothing happened, he will ask me if I want to eat yau char kwei for breakfast. He will go buy some.
There is never a day, it hurts me so much that I wished I could be at home. Just be at home. Don't get me wrong. He is very happy, enjoying his retirement years, indulging in his gardening hobby and can look after Mommy & Brother much, much better than I do.
But, I just want to be home.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. Wow, you had a haircut! So leng jai already.
(Daddy smiled) "Heheh... thank you, when are you coming back, we go makan besar! "
- Although, I have not met that guy who will lift me up from Divemaster's vortex, it doesn't really matter. I have 2 boys at home who will love me for who I am, love me in sickness and in health, in poverty or in wealth... -
I came down the stairs on a lookout. Vaguely, I know how he is supposed to look like. All from my incessant prying from his FB.
I saw a pretty boy's side view. I know its him. He heard me coming down. My famous "plik plak" footsteps. I pretended not to see him - the naive act all girls use.
He rose up and approached me. Wow, how tall he is. Shook hands, then talk. He was talking about timelines and factories. I looked into his eyes. Body language 101 - art of communication.
I stopped. Staring at his eyes for more than 3 secs gives me goosebumps.
He is DAMN gorgeous. OK, switch. Look at the sofa. He talked some more. About colors & lacquers. I can't seem to focus.
Introduced him to my colleagues. I was distracted with the big orange beads he wore on his left hand. Religious is he?
After about 30mins or so, its a wrap up. He shook my hand, "nice meeting you Michelle". I replied hope to see you soon again. I went back to my meeting, heart skipping a beat, still unable to focus. I was actually smiling from inside out.
I walked into the room headed straight for the soup pot. What soup are they serving today? Turned my attention to my cool Jap colleague and there he was. Sitting at the corner.
He stood up offered me his chair. I politely decline, mind went fuzzy again. "try the soup, it nice", said he. OK, I smiled. I didn't like the soup. Tasted like diluted ketchup. He left the room to put his dirty plate. I lingered, trying to focus on my fried chicken instead of his handsome face. He came back in and signalled me out. "Michelle, i need to ask you about PO issuance".
I told him the formal stuff, then he asked me if I went anywhere. He suggested I go to Sutos. Then he mentioned that he lived nearby and some mudslide caved in some highway. Throughout, he was standing centimeters away from me, arms resting on the table, head lowered, as if he wants to speak to me on the same level. So close. This time I succeeded more than 3 sec. 15sec max. I had to divert and look at my fried chicken. Another wrap up, he shook my hand and I said goodbye. Again.
A total of 4 handshakes
Jimmy, you're seriously one hell good-looking manager. More like a living, breathing hunk. I syiok you gila-gila.
-- but your ring on your finger will keep all these purely in my fantasies.