i used to think love needed to be exhilarating and all that. like a joyride. i’d go wild for the ups and downs and i thought that defined an ideal relationship. i’d play games with insecure men, men who had no idea what they wanted and were wasting our time, in an attempt to best them. i believe i always came out on top, but did i really? i didn’t realise then that my actions were, in fact, a reflection of my unmet needs that (even) breaking multiple men’s egos could not address.
don’t get me wrong — i loved breaking them, i regret nothing: i did not know better. i don’t think that belligerent part of me will ever go away; it is a kind of pleasure that cannot be captured in words.
but love isn’t about breaking; it’s about building. it was not real love (whatever that means) that i had with them; it only seemed that way because i loved the thrill — i loved the hunt, because i am a hunter.
instead, what i needed was really serenity — and that’s what i feel with him. we could just sit in silence together, listening to absurd current affairs on the radio. or he could roll down the windows on a morning drive, and i’d just quietly feel the wind brush my face and his hand against mine; he brings the back of my hand to his cheek, and just reminiscing about it makes me sob. i’m perfectly content just being by his side. he’s not something to be hunted or broken; he’s someone to be loved.
even hunters have families to return to.
like the rain washes away all sins, he swept in like a storm and blew the competition out of the water.
the thing about love (in hindsight) is that you don’t know until you know. i had to keep searching in the dark alone, armed only with hope, until i found it. and it comes suddenly, but you’ll know when it’s there. it just is. it’s running home into the warmth of someone’s arms, knowing that they’ve been waiting for you all along, knowing that you belong there.
i found my friends when i least expected it; i found him when i least expected it. and even if he doesn’t stay, even if they don’t stay, they’ll always be branded into my heart.
and so i’m going now, my hands in theirs, their hands in mine.
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.
The post that started it all. Reading this again makes me laugh because it demonstrates my point that people fundamentally don’t change. I mean, look at these iconic quotes from 2019 me:
“I enjoy oversharing about my life to the discomfort of others, though I should really know better. Either way, you’ll get my irrelevant opinions on all sorts of issues.”
“If you think I don’t have any [haters], you’d be surprised — I am so popular it pains me. I can’t even sin in good conscience anymore.”
This post was the first example of what I would become most well-known for among my juniors — reviews and advice relating to my academic pursuits. And my wit, of course.
One of my purer self-expressions at the time related to the paradox of online authenticity — a recurring issue in my life. The dilemma in summary: being “real” online necessitates sharing negative experiences and potentially controversial opinions because that’s real life. However, doing so could lead to adverse consequences, mainly: (1) it might not be good for your reputation in a hypercurated online environment and (2) your disclosure could be weaponised against you.
(1) is more rooted in insecurity than anything else, but (2) is a real concern. Someone reported me to my superiors when I was a student leader because I allegedly made an inflammatory comment online.
The only thing I learned from that affair then, unfortunately for the instigator, is that some people have such uninteresting lives that they can only spend it attempting (and failing) to drag others down. But I’ll admit that the experience helped me learn to criticise in a way that convinces audiences while the targets can’t do jackshit to me. (-:
I only resolved the dilemma after going through therapy: now, I share whatever I want without concern for others’ opinions. The value that I create and the way I treat others is testament enough to my character. If you can’t see it, that’s on you and not me x
2020: the liberal feminist (ironic) era [16 posts]
Self-explanatory. Interesting in the sense that men do not only represent an outlet of emotional and sexual fulfilment for me (god, if only I could choose otherwise), but because the concept of manhood defined my psychic development as a woman. Freud would be proud.
A chauvinist triggered me to write this. The post is noteworthy because it demonstrated my propensity for conflict and polemics. I’m more selective with my battles now because I’m better able to distinguish what’s worth my time.
But my desire and ability to put men in their place will never die.
Trivia: named after a popular shoujo manga I read when I was younger.
This is the post I am most well-known for. I wrote it because it is what I would have wanted to read as a junior. The support I received motivated me to keep writing; it might be part of the reason I am still posting today.
This post marked a breakthrough for me because it was the first time I actively sought help for my depressive symptoms. It was formative in terms of my journey as a mental health advocate.
Trivia: did you guys know I got into trouble for this series (the mental health logs), because someone didn’t like what I said and reported it to someone with authority over me? I got away again, of course (see the pattern here?), because 1) I can and 2) people are delusional to think that they can police my non-political opinions in our fair and free society.
I have had a long troubled history of insomnia since I was an adolescent (it’s gotten a lot better in 2024, though). I paid doctors hundreds of dollars to confirm what I already knew. Speaking from experience: if you have a sleep issue, also get your mental health checked out — the two are inextricable from one another.
More political commentary. The feelings I experienced when I posted this and when I saw the response to it solidified my commitment to write until I die.
Being single and encountering a bunch of men made me have Many Thoughts about the nature of love, dating, and marriage. So where better to organise all these thoughts creatively than here?
I would like to thank the men who inspired me because, hell, I was compulsively putting out banger after banger LOL. Sublimation is real, and I have lived it.
Embarked on this because I love self-improvement projects and gamifying my life. It’s not working out great because I clearly have impulsivity issues, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t having fun.
Another banger of a series (a little bit of disclosure: I was lovesick. I might still be. But I wouldn’t worry, because it’ll all work out in the end.)
That was a sweet trip down memory lane. Happy 5th birthday, my darling blog! I love you.
baby g’s diary 