For My Mont Kiara Guy

September 26th, 2007

i’m sitting in a starbucks waiting for nothing. many 30 minutes have passed. surely by now, after the umpteenth block of half-pasts, i must have repaid my debt from that night two years ago. i have coffee now, but i dont have the indulgence of that deliciously impatient window of time before that someone i really want to see, comes to me. did we kiss when i entered the car? this wooden starbucks chair i’m sitting on, that is pressed to my shorts right now, doesnt know that it’s being pressed to the same pair of shorts from that night. what a shame.. such precious information that will forever be lost on the ignorance of this chair.

Su wrote on Julian Ng’s wall. 6:32pm



the shorts two years ago. this was at Iviane’s birthday, when Martian waited for me 30 minutes before i finally got into the car.


same shorts now. this was after breakfast at Killiney Road, last weekend in Singapore.

—————-

26 August 2005, 4.47 AM

blue cars that i dont know the names of

polo ralph lauren shirts

that smell like stale cigarette smoke and fresh laundry

expensive restaurants

kerastase anti-dandruff shampoo

white bathrobes

slow kisses

art that have no meaning but really do yet dont

chinese horror flicks

and winona ryder

high shutter speed

hotel pillows and dark blue duvets

laconic poetry

and the idiot’s guide to interpreting dreams

irritation

lack of space

waffles and coffee

funky red nikes

cement

the thought of the touch of your fingertips

metrosexual hair

the haze and leopard print masks

my favourite chocolates

piano solos

and timeless classics

suicide stories

fresh air

confusion

manipulation

simplicity

strings

checkers and minesweeper

late nights and early mornings

hartamas

sleepy comfort

spritzer mineral water

cookies and cream ice cream

“you’re yummy”

“i never expected you to”

“this is so weird”

dirty feet

neatly pressed shirts and maroon ties

leather briefcase and official papers

plain white plates

your smile

and your really strange laugh

hugh grant

mess

gray

bali

30 minute waits

these are just a few things that remind me of you. you’re one of a kind. it’s been fun.

i want my scrunchie back.

——–

the above is a post i wrote for Martian before he left for Hong Kong, retrieved from my old blog’s archives. back then we barely knew each other. but we had all these moments, all these Mont Kiara moments, that when looking back now, seemed to be the seeds of something greater. there was one time i sulked, and then asked to go home, and then halfway through the drive, i decided i wanted to stay. i’m still like that now. he was very confused. he’s still like that now.

then there were all those times he brought me back Godiva, and that one time he got me a nice big box of Leonidas - no white chocolate, and tied with pink ribbon, just perfect. he gave me flat coke the first time i went to his apartment, and to this day i still like flat coke. all those random candles from his shelves later took up residence in the bathroom of his Hong Kong apartment, which i’m so used to and totally miss. then there’s that big yellow suitcase that has not lost its form. the very first time he met my best friend. removing contact lenses with one hand. shirt smelling. me calling him mean and him calling me bratty, adjectives we still employ in our more tulan moments.

then of course, there is that time in the taxi when i said, ‘actually, my boyfriends go through a lot of trouble dealing with me’; and he thought to himself, ‘thank God i’m not her boyfriend’.

hehehehehe.

we have each other now :) my mont kiara guy and i.

Entry Filed under: Martianisms

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