Tag Archives: relationship

Love

What Now, Love?

My sincere apologies to everyone. I have been so caught up with everything that’s been going on with my life, that I neglected to write. Most importantly, I neglected the creative thirst that nourishes my spiritual life. And it’s been crowding me with details, thoughts, ideas, experiences that are just retreating to the recesses of my consciousness as stale energy. Lots of things run through my mind every day, being in a new city, being in love, being on top of the world. Why, why, why hadn’t I taken some time out of my own indolence to write about them? Now, it seems like they are all lost — because I’ve lost the immediacy of the euphoria, the proximity of emotions, the freshness of experiences to be able to capture them as clearly as it happened.

I wished I had written sooner, especially about the bursts of glow I felt as I was falling in love, over and over again, with K. When I think about him, the most beautiful image is one of his face, smiling, glowing with redness and love oozing out of his every pore in bed against a background of misty sunshine. Looking at the source of his immense joy. Me. Tears still flow down my cheeks every time I think of that moment, when I never thought I could experience such love from such a place of purity and sincerity. The kind of love people said was myth, that it only happened in Hollywood movies and fairytales. The kind of love that will make you lose yourself completely in the other.

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Love

August 18

Something had been gnawing at me all day, but it was only in the evening when daylight had gone and everything had turned to sands of dusk that it hit me. It was August 18. The day I met L seven years ago. Has it been seven years already? How did seven years go by so quickly?

Then at that point, a wave of sadness came over me and seemed to engulf me and break my current consciousness. All of a sudden, I realized what had happened. Something that had been my life had died – in the way someone had a sudden heart attack and disappears from your life, your reality. And it seemed to have happened in a flash over the last couple of months.

I had been anticipating this moment of realization. When I wrote my post “Breaking Up” in June, it had struck me how removed I was from my “former” life, as if it had all been a dream that was somehow banished into a storage area of my heart and mind. But with the end of everything comes the need to grieve, to mourn the loss of all the hours, minutes and seconds that were lived and shared and everything in between. Because how else are you able to move forward? Every moment of your life from that point forward would be haunted by the shadows and ghosts of your former life, your routines, motifs and themes that exist in your memory bank. At every instant that you get that feeling of deja vu, like you’re back in that former life, it freaks you out, because you wonder if your present reality is real, if it’s not afterall a temporal state that has usurped the former.

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Love

Sleepless Nights

Seeing him again after all these months remind me of the countless nights I would wake up in the stifling darkness of the bedroom, hyperventilating, with a deep, desperate urge to fill my emotional hollowness, to purge the toxins that were lining the walls of that emptiness. I would start up, carefully turn the door knob and walk to the living room, sit on the dark brown leather sofa in the middle of the expanse of the room and look into space. After a while, I would slowly break out in desperate sobs, trying to catch each breath and trying to stay as quiet as possible so that I don’t wake him. Because surely, he would say I was bringing depression upon myself, that I was incapable of being happy, that I was somehow at fault for not being able to sleep at night.
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Love, Sex

On Kissing, And Pray Tell

It was dark. It was damp. It was intensely uncomfortable. That’s what I remember about my first kiss. Then 13, with a head full of soapy Hollywood fantasies of the wonderful, all-important experience, I was beside myself with girlish joy that a cute boy of 14 would find me attractive enough to want to kiss me. With butterflies (and cocoons and caterpillars) gushing in my digestive system and a ball of spiky teenage lust, we went at it like we were going to devour the other’s face. The vivid image of his bony face and tongue slobbering on mine lurks in the “embarrassing” section of my mind and is triggered to my frontal lobe every time I kiss someone. Since then, every subsequent kissing session has been a conscious effort and attempt at trying to erase and replace that unfortunate first memory with better, more worthy experiences.

During a discussion in my Lit class last semester, the resident funny girl-class clown – me – started to talk about censorship on TV and made everyone laugh with cognizance at how you often see Malaysian TV censoring the parts where couples were about to snog each other. So, one minute, you see them getting into foreplay, all hot and steamy and before you know it, *snip*, and they are done with it – often out of the shower and on to the next scene. In the days when there was no cable, I would often go like, “What the fuck? As if we don’t know they are kissing. Doesn’t snipping it make it more obvious?” I mean, what’s going to happen if we see them kissing? Will we feel an unnatural impulse to want to grab someone on the street to stick our tongues down their throats? Wow, what a threat to national security that there would be people who might want to snog each other. Ring up the snog police, won’t you?

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Sex

The First Time

People make a big deal of the first time you have sex, the time when you lose your virginity. But, the reality of two confused, hot and bothered teenagers trying to “get it on” is often not a pretty picture. Well, at least that was true for me. I was 15, and had run away from home in order to “finally” go through this very “special” event that I equated with love. It lasted all of 5 minutes, including the fierce tongue foreplay that led to the rough, dry humping. Suffice to say, I was disappointed after the deed was done, and my then-puppy love and I looked awkwardly at each other, wondering if that was all there is to it. Even subsequent tries sucked as well. But of course, at that age, you have no mental benchmark with which to measure each performance and you don’t know enough to understand what you should be doing. Basically, you eat each other’s face off, tear off the other’s clothes and you hump. That’s all sex was.

But as you get older, as well as more experienced, and your body and mind go through significant maturation and growth, you start to understand what it is your body wants and seek information on ways to satisfy that need. You learn that the mind is really the most powerful sex organ and that vivid fantasies are more useful than aphrodisiacs. You also learn that there are ways to have good sex — or simply to satisfy that gushing surge — with or without a partner. A partner with whom you have a strong emotional connection and share your sexual needs is great because you are able to explore the heights of pleasure together. But such partners, who fit your every criteria, are hard to come by.

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