Strangers in the night

"Why didn't you want to stay for coffee? Did you really find him too flamboyant*? I'm just curious, that's all." (*In his own words.)

"Yah... and he's a stranger." He frowned darkly.

"Doesn't everyone start off as strangers? Don't you remember how we met everyone else back in NUS?"

"Yahhh... but..."

It was an impromptu (I suppose?) invitation from the stranger - a stranger of sorts to me as well - for both of us to join him for a drink. The plan was only to pick up the book. But, I would not have minded coffee, even if I had showed up alone. It was a Friday night after all. And I have had to find ways to entertain myself on Fridays since the "BF" spends most of her time entertaining the "bf" now. Sniff. SNIFFFFF.

But "ethics" (to steal a word from a very ethical fellow) dictated that I could not force an extension of the brief encounter on my friend, even though he had known of this more than a day in advance. And, reluctance aside, he did remember his manners and stepped forward to introduce himself, albeit warily. So, there.

After dinner at this Japanese place in International Building, he asked if I would like to join his colleagues at Bar None. Another impromptu invitation? I went and met several more strangers, who he "warned" me were "even more flamboyant" and there would be a few "suave" ones around - but he was eager for me to meet them nonetheless. I suppose they were "flamboyant" - by his standards. They were very different from him, but nice and rather interesting people - from what I could understand from the snatches of shouted conversation over the loud music. And I must say, there is a very nonchalant and charming confidence exuded by people who work with a lot of money. (Not the showy wannabes - who reek of something else altogether.)

It was also interesting how those closer to him tried to figure out the nature of our relationship (when he was away), while maintaining a very careful distance. I told the truth: "We're very old friends from school." Though I teased him mercilessly in front of them (and he "threatened" never to take me out again), I kept my body language cool - turning my body away though I looked at and listened to him intently; and making sure there were no opportunities for lingering touches when we were passing things.

I knew he sometimes watched me from a distance when I was talking to his colleagues, or leaning in so one of them could shout into my ears. Again, "ethics" (sigh!) dictated that I had to maintain some level of social conservatism and "face-saving" for his sake. That, and I knew he was still coming to terms with things about me that he had not been aware of before.

Sometime around midnight, he kept asking if I had too much to drink - because of the teasing. I told him that on the contrary, because my reflexes start to slow, I tend to become more inhibited and quiet. He said inebriation did that to him too. Later, he got a little high. In addition to a fine mist which I felt on my face and arms whenever he came up to talk; he also chose to tell me about a much younger woman who he was dating occasionally and her hypothetical scenarios about age differences and making intentions known.

I left - alone - after the band's second performance. The week has been tiring. After I did the "nice meeting you" with some people, he walked me out and then returned to his colleagues.



The morning after

"BTW, D was pretty appreciative of you... hmm..."

"Ah :-)"

"He asked how come I am not dating you... hehe..."

Ah. So, it finally comes. Yes, I did expect to be "appreciated" by D (what the hell does "pretty appreciative" mean anyway) - though that was probably just an excuse to bring up The Question, which I did not feel like entertaining, or exploring hypothetical scenarios. And I know I would not be able to help myself from telling some white lies. So, I told him I was going out for yoga - which I did. (See, I'm an honest woman.)



Itching. Shedding. Evolving.

There are things that you obviously never realised about me. Things that you know only now. Things that are new - even to me. Things that I find myself telling you. Things that you couldn't help but saw for yourself on Friday night. (No, I was never high; I knew exactly what I was doing and saying.) Things that surprise and bewilder you. Things, also, that you chose not to know or see or acknowledge. You didn't know that I've always had a penchant for music with Arabic (no, not Indian - Arabic!) influences. You didn't know that although I don't smoke because I hate cigarettes, I enjoy the occasional cigar (after picking it up from the Ex). You didn't know that I have engaged strangers who fascinated me. You didn't know these things - and when you knew, you frowned. (Did you realise that you were frowning?)

I know how you hold on dearly to the old days. Yes, they were good. I can see how fondly you smile when you recount your meetings with old friends who are still as you remembered them. And I'm a part of those sepia memories that keep you sane in a changing world - your comfort zone.

I miss some of those old times too. And I wish some things didn't have to change. But some things are still the same - like the way I can still read you like a book.

You will not spend a whole lifetime knowing me - wanting to know me. Perhaps, you think you already know all there is to know about me - or need to.

But I'm cool with that, really. I don't need to know everything there's to know about my friends anyway.