Monday, March 12, 2007

Reflections for a friend

I’m getting married!- she said
He’s the one, I'm sure of it!
Be happy for me, you’re my friend
I know you will be.

He’s so wrong for her…I know it
Sometimes, being a friend, you have to know
Its' not your decision
Its' not your life.
And you surface the joy that is missing
From your heart

Where is he? Why are you always alone?
No, he wanted to come, really he did...
But he’s tired
Yes, he wanted to celebrate our anniversary too,
but you know? His work…
He wanted to but he couldn’t,
He wish he could but of course it was impossible...
He really wanted to…no, of course he wanted to…

He tried to kill me, she said
Thought I was carrying on with another man
Took a pillow
And nearly suffocated me

It’s over – she said.
He’s so wrong for me,
Now I know it.

I wrote this upon learning what a friend is going through in her unhappy marriage. Obviously i was very disturbed when i heard her story and wondered why she is still sticking around. I suppose there's alot about love i have yet to understand, my husband nizan always advises me not to give counsel when it comes to other peoples' marriages and problems. I know he's right, the decision to know when a marriage has gone bad is hers alone to make. I hope she realizes it soon becos no man is worth all that.

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Lingerie Dilemma

My mind has lately been lingering over the dangerous issue of lingerie.

Someone dear to me recently popped me a question which left me squirming with discomfort. She asked if I wear lingerie - the eye-popping types, you know - black, lacy numbers which leaves nothing to the imagination. The kind that makes you look like you're fresh out from some crazy european porn flick. Or an overcrowded Thai massage parlour in the smoky tourist-packed backlanes of Patpong.

Dont get me wrong. I'm neither puritan nor feminist. I can totally appreciate a Double-D female form in a sexy gown-splitting number. But somehow the image of MYSELF parading in my un-boudoir-like bedroom in crotch-less thingamajigs just makes me feel uneasy. Obviously I have issues with the belief that a woman must necessarily look like a Victoria's Secret model to be seen as sexy in bed to her lover. I prefer to be seen as an intellectually stimulating partner, than a plaything. Boring? Maybe I've just been exposed to too many scenes of slutty Hollywood vacant-looking, bimbo types to wish to aspire to be like that.

Asian values leaves women confused I believe. We're brought up to practise traditional values like how virginity should be kept securely under lock and key until marriage. That girls should be chaste. That slutty is cheap and bad and naughtiness gets a girl into a whole load of trouble, not to mention eventually, Hell. But suddenly, after you're married, the expectations are reversed. Somehow a wife is expected to be a sex "circus" for her husband. Its a 180-degree turn from Virgin to Bed-Slut that's bound to leave any women stumped and challenged on how to react. My gay best-friend once laughingly called me frigid when we passed by a crotchless suit in a mall in KL and an involuntary snort of disgust came out from me. But seriously, and hello?... how obvious can you get? I know men are visual creatures, but does a guy honestly need to see a hole there to have a clue on what lurks below?