maybe things would have been different if i had loved you more
but i did
and i think i did my best
did you?
emdash abuser
maybe things would have been different if i had loved you more
but i did
and i think i did my best
did you?
i love being surrounded by sharks. eat me up and spit me out, baby — your bite marks define me
the curiosity of the soul, the unfolding of the heart, the misery of the mind, the absurd promise of death, the irrepressible desire to live — all of it so little, and yet so much
whatever slips by me now,
i let go with grace;
in time, when i have become,
everything that was meant to be
shall return to me
I have a complicated relationship with my orbiters. Their distinguishing feature is that they are men with whom I have been emotionally entangled, who watch my stories but who do not otherwise have any contact with me by their choice. They could DM or text me — I don’t block men I don’t care for — but they do not. I do not consider them friends. Maybe fans, or a little less, because placing them in the same category as my darling fans would be insulting to the latter. Either way, they are a special class of men because I pay much attention to them.
I maintain a level of detachment from them for the sake of my well-being but, nonetheless, am drawn to them like a moth to fire. I am endlessly fascinated by their behaviour as an object of study; I stay transfixed because they are like a puzzle whose pieces are constantly transmogrifying.
As we have clearly established, I love to read too much into human behaviour — it’s an occupational hazard. And I think orbiting behaviour is particularly revealing of desire due to its nature.
Orbiting in the form of story-watching behaviour is a two-way street, at least with insane girls like me. Again, men (and women) are deliberate in their actions. My friends say “maybe he’s just watching your stories because you pop up on his feed (because you post insane shit all the time)”, but are people really that simple? An orbiter does not accidentally watch your stories. They are orbiters because there are fixed patterns to their behaviour; they are there again and again like permanent fixtures. And given how confrontational I am, I know they know that I know they’re watching my stories. It’s like standing with your back to another person in a room of mirrors. You look up at yourself, and then at them, realising that they’re watching you too, even though both of you do not ever move.
This creates a relationship that is simultaneously parasocial and symbiotic. As much as I enjoy their presence, I think they, too, get a high from following my social media — because I feed them in return.
So let me feed you with this post.
Here’s the tall tale I spin in my head because I’m a crazy girl and I can think whatever I want (and I own it 100%!). You’re still here because you realise you messed up your only chance with me. Maybe it’s because you were in a bad place or not emotionally ready; you had not yet found yourself. That’s okay; it doesn’t matter anymore. Either way, you regret that you didn’t seize the chance when you had it.
And you don’t know what to do now, so you linger.
I am not sure what to say in response. You wanted something from me, and you took it, didn’t you? I gave you what you wanted, because I loved you, because I wanted you to be happy, even if the time we had together was so infinitesimal. But no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough for you then, and you made your decision then, split-second or not, calculated or not.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
I could block you but I won’t. Why? Because that would be giving you the easy way out. I’ll be frank: I don’t think you deserve that from me. And I love watching you suffer. Every single time you turn around for a second, third, fourth, fifth look, every single time you come back to me unprompted. The more you hurt me in the past, the more I’ll enjoy it.
Well, or so I thought. Huh? Like I said, I used to love playing games with silly cute boys. But in retrospect, I notice that there would inevitably come a tipping point where my objective ceased to be communicating my feelings for them in the hopes that they would reciprocate. All I wanted was to crush them.
I don’t know who or what to or why I was trying to prove myself, but here’s the thing — I always won, and crush them I did. One of the boys I was intent on breaking (because I felt that he had wronged me) eventually conceded through an apology. But when I saw his text, contrary to my glorious expectations, I didn’t feel a sense of victory. It was more like… ah, we’ve been through so much, haven’t we?
But… what was all of this for?
There was a brief period when I actively attempted to ignore my darling orbiters because I felt they were a waste of my time and emotional bandwidth. (Damn energy vampires.) However, I have since realised (perhaps in a post-hoc justification kind of way) that they were pivotal to my emotional growth.
Take Mr Temasek, for example (if you’re here, hi!!! Did it work out with your ex? Hahahahahaha). One encounter with him stands out; I think it will be all I remember of him in time.
We were seated, facing each other; he asked me what my biggest insecurity was (at that point).
And I was honest with him because I trusted him then: I told him, point blank, that I feared men only saw me for my (hot N sexy) body, even though I was so willing to love them.
For at least a second, I thought I recognized empathy in his pretty eyes — a moment of vulnerability I believed was worth revealing myself for.
And then he proceeded to precisely exploit that insecurity against me, haha.
Well (shrugs). We live and we learn. I was out of commission for a good two months or so thanks to his selfishness (and my weaknesses then; it takes two hands to clap). But he taught me an important emotional lesson, which later helped me find the one. Everything happens for a reason.
This is all much ado about nothing. Like OK sis, what is your point?
So here it is in the spirit of full disclosure. I like to pretend that I’m some harbinger of feminine rage, but surprise — despite everything, insanely, I want you to be happy. In the end, we’re all interconnected. Even if our paths will never cross again (I sure hope they don’t), they did at one point. I did love you.
I can be as delulu as I want, but in the end, I will never know why you’re still here. And I don’t intend to find out; that’s what keeps you endlessly fascinating. We always want the things we cannot have.
I liked to credit the men like the two examples above for being my muses. But I’ve been giving credit to the wrong people. I am like this today, and I could write all of this now, because I opted to learn from my mistakes instead of letting them break my spirit. I grew despite you, but also because of you. I would not be where I am today without you — for better or for worse.
And somehow, I choose better — without you.
You’ve served your purpose in my life. I hope I’ve served mine. So let’s part ways now, for your sake.
Listen to this — it’s the sound of how much I would’ve loved you.
And then let go.
But hey, if you do choose to stay, then watch, watch, watch me.
Because I’m going to dance.
in this series: #1 (#1.5) | #2 | #3 (#3.5) | #4 | #5 (#5.5) | #6 | #7 (#7.5)
Did you think it was over? There’s one more, and this is it —
Wait, where’s #5 and #6? I’m writing them as you read this. But we have deadlines to meet, as you will understand.
And… sometimes, you need to know the ending to appreciate the process.
So, in the final post of this series, we tackle the ultimate question:
What happens when you find the one?
— Wait. How would I know?
…
Yeah, guys. You won’t believe, but I met him. Haha!

I wrote before that love is a little like falling asleep. To quote John Green: I fell in love like you would fall asleep: slowly and then all at once. Maybe somewhat faster for me because, after all, I am a hyperoptimiser: I knew he was the one by the end of our first date.
I mean, I did say I wouldn’t settle for anything less.
Silly Disclosures and a Few Lessons, Maybe
Why did I meet him? He likes jazz too. He’s the only one who genuinely wanted to go to a jazz show with me, not for me (observe how we came full circle). I made time for him because I sincerely wanted to connect with someone with the same interest. Wouldn’t it be fun, even if we didn’t work out? And I was right. He did not need to be anything he was not, nor did I.
Why did he “win”? There are a few things, but one turning point was when he held my hand. Huh, that’s it? Yeah. Because hand-holding is an emotionally loaded gesture. Before him, I had never held hands with any of the others outside of a sexual context. Men will tongue-wrestle you, hook their arm around your hips as you walk, or put their hand on your thigh (thinking they’re slick), blagh, but they will not hold your hand unless they’re ready. That’s love in its most intimate form, or so I believe. When he interlaced his fingers with mine, he was opening his heart to me: he was giving himself to me.
And so I did the same because I wanted to, for him.
Another one for kicks: some of my prior dates ended with the men saying I was enigmatic (??) or they were unsure about me (or gave me a hard no, which was superior, to be honest). They always had this distant look in the end… as if they were struggling to imagine how I fit into their future.
With him, though? At one point, I said, “if you’re so good to me, what if I beg you to see me again?”
He replied, without hesitation: “please do just that; I’d love it if you did.”
How did I know? When I fell asleep in his arms, the ocean was quiet: I did not dream. And yes, he felt like home. (The morning after, I wrote geometry.)
So yeah, nappeun yeoja, but this is it, LOL.
Babygirl’s retiring from the game; she’s had her run and received her prize.

My Report Card, for Evaluation’s Sake
Epilogue / On Beginnings
We might not work out in the end — life has no guarantees — but I’m committed to making it work. (I mean, if it doesn’t, I’ll just rinse and repeat the cycle. I’ve established quite clearly that it’s effective for me.)
Even if it doesn’t, I know we’ll both grow. I just hope we can make it together.
That’s my promise to him.
(And no, don’t ask me about him. I will not share. I have overshared enough. He’s mine, as I affirmed even before we met. Haha!)
I was looking for love. In the process, I found it in myself. When that happened, he manifested into being for me, as if from a dream.
There might be “better” out there. But what does that mean anyway? To “hyperoptimise”, as was my goal from the beginning, is to find the best solution available given a fixed set of parameters.
We are not looking for perfection; it is unattainable. He isn’t perfect, and neither am I.
But he’s good enough for me as he is, and I’m good enough for him as I am.
And isn’t that what matters in the end?

Finally, to all my dear readers: thank you for being here with me throughout. It really has been magical.
Meeting new people was the best thing that happened to me this year. There’s so much out there, so much to learn, so much to do. There are so many others like myself with their own stories, waiting to be uncovered — waiting to be loved.
Again and again — I hope you find the love you deserve. Be brave! Life will work out for you — it’s only a matter of time.
in this series: #1 (#1.5) | #2 | #3 (#3.5) | #4 | #5 (#5.5) | #6 | #7 (#7.5)
in this series: #1 (#1.5) | #2 | #3 (#3.5) | #4 | #5 (#5.5) | #6 | #7
A dual post because it was only a matter of time before all of what I’ve written would come together. To love and to date is to find yourself, and when you find yourself, you will meet the ones for you.
It’s #3.5 on the hyperoptimised dating series because the content is an extension of #3, which I haven’t yet written. But it will come soon.
These two weeks have been a huge test for me — of my will. I’ve learnt so much so quickly that even my core beliefs have been shaken. Up to this point, I believed I should give my everything in whatever I do, whoever I meet…. but I can see why people are hesitant to do so now. I tried to hyperoptimise the search for love only to find that the thing I could not optimise in the end was myself. We cannot optimise love because it is not meant to be optimised.
Everyone I’ve met tells me I give love too quickly and commit too fully. I don’t agree, but they’re right about the consequences, which are very real.
Nonetheless, I’ve made a few observations that are fascinating to me and that my readers might enjoy.
First: people like to aim for things that are just beyond our reach — it’s pure instinct. But the divine irony of it all is that to be the partner of a person who is “better” than you, you have to be better than yourself so you “deserve” them. I do not believe people “deserve” or do not deserve each other; everyone deserves to be loved. But there are unbreakable rules in life, and this is one of them.
I realised that I’ve always “joked” about finding a rich man because I have been looking for a man to compensate for a part of me that I perceived I lacked. But there is nothing to compensate for. As Cher wisely opined, I don’t need a rich man; I am the rich man. I will become him. When I do, the rest will work it out by itself. Indeed, that is the mentality of the secure men I’ve met — they take their time and are stern with their boundaries because they always want better, better, better.
And why not indeed? I’ve been out for less than a month on Hinge and am already batting like crazy. But not only is it about where you’re at now, it’s about where you’re going. And I will keep growing; in a year, I will be more, and in two years, I will be much more. When you tend to your garden, the butterflies will come. When I become a rich (and hot) man, I won’t need a rich man anymore.
So, ultimately, this is not about men or potential partners I might have. It is about me. It was always about me; it was always about you.
Second and related: if you are serious about finding the one for you, you must first know who you are.
I suspect men are afraid of me. Because I am so intense and seemingly ready to do unhinged shit (it’s only unhinged because they don’t understand) that they realise that they cannot control me — and these men cannot accept a woman they cannot control. I think that’s the crux of it all in a relationship dynamic: it’s all about power. In short, weaker men cannot handle me, and they drop me such that I shatter on the floor. (Most men can’t even handle being told that they’re weak.)
That’s what the men really mean when they tell me I’m “emotionally volatile” or I’m “headstrong” or whatever to that effect. They’re all related. I saw it flash across a prospect’s eyes when we met for the last time as potential partners. I told him about my plans for the future, and he tripped thrice, so much that I asked him if he was doing it for theatrical effect. He did not say it then, but it was already a dealbreaker for him, and maybe he just wanted to see it through to the inevitable end.
This guess of mine will never be fully validated because they will never admit it is so. But I can see it anyway — I see it with the men in my past and the men I’ve met recently. I see it in the way they orbit me. My malicious side wants them to think, in those moments they watch my stories, why are you still here? But hey, since you are, watch me — I’m going to be the girl you could’ve had and will never have again because you didn’t know what you wanted. You were a part of my life and I’m grateful for that — but you were not meant to stay. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.
But it doesn’t matter whether they feel the way I want them to. I might be completely delusional. It doesn’t matter what they feel anyway. They have their own lives and deserve happiness too.
I’ll just not be there to see it.
I am not emotionally volatile. I used to be, maybe. I hurt others; I regret it. And I will make mistakes. I can’t help it if I have thorns on my body that regrow even when I tear them out and I bleed because I didn’t want to hurt others when they came close. I must accept myself for who I am. I can only hope my friends will love me regardless — and I trust that they do. I too accept them for everything that they are.
My emotional intensity is not a weakness; it is quite literally my cardinal trait. People who say I’m volatile do not understand me in the way I understand myself. And I do not have the time to explain myself to them because we have other things to do. Let them think what they want. I will say this though: if I am emotionally volatile, then let the primary emotions I cycle between be joy and awe.
I will be brave, even if I must make it alone.
There are always “better” people out there. But they are not for you. You deserve someone who sees you as you are. When you realistically recognise your place, you’ll know where you want to be.
Will you stay or will you go? That’s up to you.
I have only met one man about whom I was completely sure from the beginning. And the reason was simpler than I had expected — he felt like home, where I was meant to be, as I was. I was so sure about my gut feeling that I’d have given him the reins if he asked. But he told me, as if he saw something in me I did not then, that I was too unstable for him.
And on reflection — indeed, I am. He could not handle me. That’s not on him; it’s not on me. We were just not meant to be. We live, and we learn.
So, as I intended, the man I end up with will be a brat tamer. And he won’t even have to tell me. I will know when we cross paths. He’ll love the challenge, and I’ll give myself fully in return.
We will not “settle for” anyone until I find someone who loves me as intensely and deliberately as I love him. He has to be like me. I am looking for a soulmate. With or without them, I am walking ahead at my own pace. If I don’t get married, hell, so be it; there are more incredible things in life waiting for me.
My priority is not men. It will never be men. It will always be me.
And we are going to live.
i watched Suspiria earlier on a whim. to be as spoiler-free as possible (the movie was a LOT), it is essentially about a witch coming into being — in the sense that she became who she was meant to be.
it was a masterpiece. in its post-credits scene, she looks beyond the screen and subtly smiles as if she recognises something monumental has happened; she is at peace with it; something greater is coming, and she is ready.
hyperbole perhaps, but something about this film fundamentally altered my brain chemistry. the witch is… powerful, devastatingly so when attuned to her purpose, but merciful and forgiving at the same time. she is a mother; she is everything a woman would want to be.
it hit me hard because i’ve only begun to realise that there is, in fact, something powerful within me. but now that i’ve discovered it — the only thing left to do is be who i really am, as i am. but if you are to be truly yourself you have to let go of everything that you thought you loved and wanted to love.
but it’s such a herculean process — it hurts so much, my god, does it hurt — and the suffering doesn’t even abate with time. you have to do it over and over, discarding things that don’t serve you, armed only with the belief that your suffering now will eventually serve a grander purpose. not that they’re not beautiful and precious — they just were not made for you.
do you understand? — i always ask the ones i love.
but does it matter?
as much as i want to be connected with everyone else, this life was for me.
life was a lot easier when i was not aware. i was walking blind and letting others lead my way. but now that i know exactly what i want — i have to chart the path on my own.
someone once told me that life is like swimming across the sea; the English Channel is an example, if you will. you must swim across or drown trying. and you’ll have people along the way with you; if you’re lucky, you’ll find a partner to support you. but if both of you are to make it across, you have to know how to swim without the other.
and if you have to rely on your partner to make it across, you will not only drown: you will kill them too.
i used to think — only three weeks ago, actually — that i needed someone to complete me. but i understand now, as our protagonist did:
i am whole on my own, as i am.
i haven’t considered this in a long time, but i just caught myself wondering — am i not good enough? nobody i’ve met tells me so; they tell me i’m exceptional, in fact — but i feel like i’m constantly on the verge of tears. all of this is a lot — as I read in a poem, how could anyone hold all of it and not melt?
but i forgive myself for all my weaknesses — i will not linger; i will learn, i will become.