farah fasyalba



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Monday, October 26, 2009



dear mr & mrs bloggie…

Every girl has a checklist. In fact, they carry this invisible bible as if their lives depend on it. However, it changes from time to time. I know mine does. Physically, emotionally, the works, my… The list is endless. Bite me, really, should you not have one oh lady.

I depend on my checklist to determine what kind of guy I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Not accurate to a T, I must say the guidelines served me well throughout the years. He is tall. Tick. He is older than me (by two years, definitely). Tick. He is my colleague? No way am I dating you José. NEXT.

On your first date, your mind swirls with million questions. No, not because you're thinking of what to say. Rather whether what he answers suit you and you just fine. Come on baby, give me your best shot, you would silently sing. Afterall, first impression is the most crucial, an advice best heeded.

So, the dating game begins. His demeanor sends out a strong signal even SOS pale in comparison. Your heart thump in anticipation; Or lack thereof because it momentarily stopped. Then within 5 seconds of pause, you imagine him carrying your newborn baby. Awww...
Ha-di-ha. I am so kidding on that last part. -_-

Enlighten me, ladies and gentlemen, with my next enquiry, yes. What happens if that guy gets all the tick (well, fine maybe not all per se) in each of your every box? Is it safe to assume that he is THE ONE?

Ah ha, so tricky yet so scary.

I am still confused, as we speak. Not because I met him already. It’s just that I met Mr Wrong recently. But he fits my bill so perfectly, and some. So do I wait for Mr Right or be happy with the many ticks on the aforementioned?

You tell me.







*******



dear mr & mrs bloggie…

I am socially inept my head hurts just thinking about my fate. The night that was supposed be about love and celebrating the joining of two people in love kind of took a toll on me.

Sweet Lady in red goes by the name Sufieah invited me to her glorious yet simple wedding held somewhere in the hearts of Joo Chiat, (or not, I simply have no idea). A senior in my secondary school, I was utterly honored to be there on her special day.


However, wretchedly, that didn’t stop me from hyperventilating as I stepped out of Wil’s car. As you all might have known by now, I do not feel comfortable in events such as this. One where you have to strike a conversation with people just so you are not accused of being arrogant or the likes, (or maybe God wanted to test your social skills) and get scrutinized along the way. Not to mention, one that includes a whole lot of people- even mere strangers, so to speak!

To make matters worse, that was the first time I actually met Wil. As in, you know…. talk face-to-face. What a way to impress him. A nervous wreck was not the idea. Gawd, if the Earth has got much time, it would have loved to swallow me in a jiffy.

But that night proved worthy I was indeed thankful. I rekindled my friendship that with my exbestfriend, Afni. A friendship that started at the age of five. Aye, I was glad I came. We talked as if that painful night didn’t happen and boy, I didn’t wanna be anywhere else but there. What were the odds?

What started off as a panicky state became a night I would remember for the rest of my life.

Maybe it’s fate afterall. Ah ha.





*****



dear mr & mrs bloggie…

It was a date. One with candles, a Caesar salad, a glass of Martini and the man with a shirt ironed so crisp to perfection my skills barely fared. Oh, and his name is Wil.

I just came back from Amsterdam then. My heart was pumping so hard from excitement I think my colleagues could have heard it from the other end of the aircraft.

He was late. Not a fault that could be easily dismissed because he just woke up when I called him to say I touched down. With maximum speed, he managed to reach the airport at a record time of 30minutes. Not a moment too soon? Impressive considering he stayed in Jurong.

But what made me smile was when he was seen on his knees, dramatically might I add, asking me to forgive him. Sue me, I thought that was cute. Haha… It sure was.

A good hot shower and lil sleep later, Wil and I headed to Chijmes where a lovely night promised us.



He gazed at me affectionately. I wasn’t dressed to the nines of course but as he complimented me, I felt like Cinderella after godmother granted her wish. Now tell me how lovely that feels? It was wonderful I answer you now.

We met my baby Ina hours later and there we were, drinking a bottle of Chardonnay that I had painstakingly carried all the way from Amsterdam. All ready to dance, the three of us headed to China One for some good ol’ fun.



A reason for this part of the entry? My baby Ina and I had a sleepover that required us to talk the whole night without so much as a wink. Indeed, three glasses of Jagerbombs each didn’t hinder our speech but I must confess, triggered our tear glands a bit. (If you know what I mean). Gallery Hotel was our asylum that night. Just us and our hearts. A girly talk requires no other. Sometimes a girlfriend is all you need to turn that frown upside down.

Fate brought love…. in all different styles. The wonders.




*****



dear mr & mrs bloggie…

It was just yesterday. Shopping with mother proved a difficult task, when an hour of searching for a goddamn bloody black handbag drained all my energy away. She actually cried (of happiness, no less) as I took out my wallet. Yea, she is one drama queen. But her tears meant a lot to me hey. Mother, Mother… you are definitely something. Ahhh…. :)

Mother headed back home. I met Cuz Serena instead. Minutes later, who else could be seen walking pass me at Starbucks but the lovely lady herself, Tea Puteri. A treat for me indeed for we didn’t meet ever since she came back from Manchester. Mann did we catch up eh babe. Ah ha… thank goodness for your presence, and that of your man as you both accompanied me wait for that boy named Wil.

And that is that.


With all these meet-ups, I am so not looking forward for my long flights. And there’s a whole lot of ‘em next month.
October, I thank you.

cinta
fasyalba

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