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You’re having fun
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When a major exam is approaching
Thanks! But that reveals our age doesn’t it?
Haizzzz… I feel like an antique when my younger colleagues ask me what’s a memo jazz or what’s a starTac
Quote:
Originally Posted by
llpatrick
Love the memories.. Especially the Motorola Jazz!
But I did see my dad’s 大哥大 handphone though. Does that count?
Quote:
Originally Posted by
llpatrick
So fast you went off the StarTac, you probably didn’t get to use the Zone Phone of the days..
Concluding the 1st Guy
My relationship with Brian lasted just slightly over a year. Losing my virginity to him did open my curiousity to the world of sexual intercourse. He started working a part time job after his O’s ended while I continued on to secondary 3.
His work schedule follows retail hours and that left us very little time to meet for dates. As for sex, so long as his schedule matched the times I knew my parents weren’t going to be at home longer than usual, we would meet and do the dirty in my room. Even then, these times were few and far in between.
We drifted apart when he entered ITE. School and ECA activities were taking up nearly the entire day for him and our meetups were confined to evenings where he would pass by my block of flats. It was usually a quick affair, meetup, kiss and lightly make out before retiring to our homes.
However, the main reason for the breakup was because I caught him holding hands with a girl wearing the same ITE uniform as him.
I’m not gonna bore everyone with the emotion rants from that time so that ends this chapter.
The 2nd Guy
The first cut is the deepest. It REALLY hurt, discovering your bf cheating on you and the relationship dying silently. No pages, no voicemails, none. I was tempted to go to his place and confront him but I wasn’t sure if I could bear the sight of two of them together, hand in hand. I had given so much, so so much. why did it end up like this?
All sorts of wild thoughts came racing through my mind. Am I not pretty enough? Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? Did I… did I not give him enough physically? I began to close myself up again. Didn’t find the courage to share with the clique I was with though they sensed something was amiss with me.
So the 2nd half of my year of studies suffered. Barely did enough to advance to sec 4. During the year end hols, I thought I’d keep myself busy with working a part time job. So I did, working retail.
And… fate is cruel.
Enter guy number 2, let’s name him Mark.
Mark is a smooth talker. He could talk his way out of jail in a life sentence. He was really tall, and spotted an “armani” haircut. He was much older (at least to a teenager) at 19-20 years old and was a little on the plus side. I was 15 going on 16. We met each other during the retail job I was at. Though still nursing a heartbreak, the only reason I spoke to him was… he knows Brian. Yup, fate is cruel.
I guess part of me was still interested in knowing what my ex was up to. How was he doing? Was he still with that girl? Old flames die hard… It was during one of those times we were chatting (at least he was trying to chat with me) while standing idly waiting for customers Mark casually mentioned he knew I used to go out with Brian.
Whatever lingering feelings I had for Brian probably drove me to speak more with Mark. Gradually and naturally, we became close. The December retail came and went and I was back in school. I still maintained contact with Mark and did go meet him for simple coffeeshop lunches occasionally. Then he invited me to a “tea dance”.
What in the world was a “tea dance”? Mentally I pictured people holding dainty cups of tea while trying to waltz with each other. Then I pictured Mark… Nope.. Uh-uh, no way in hell… It was decided that my baptism into the “tea dancing” scene was 1 saturday afternoon at one of the most popular spots of its time in Orchard Road and his only instruction to me was “dress to kill”.
I was flusterred. How does 1 “dress to kill”? My regular going out fashion at that time was mostly tee and jeans with the occasional denim skirt. Dressing up meant looking at the extremely miserable section of a smattering of full-length floral print dresses that only saw the outside of the wardrobe once a year during CNY. After receiving help from my more adventurous friends, I manage to borrow my 1st tea dance outfit - a toga lyrca crop top and mini skirt.
As I stepped into my virgin tea dance experience, I was immediately captivated by the sounds and the light. It was… futuristic for me. Mark taught to let myself go in the music and move to the beat as I pleased. In short, the experience was fascinating and I eagerly looked forward to an invitation to the next tea dance.
The aftermath of tea dances were usually a meal and mostly hanging out at someone’s place because we already expended our weekly budgets. It was during these hangout sessions that I was introduced to two extremely addictive substances - cigarettes and alcohol. There was always a generous supply of both.
On a sidenote, this was the year my folks were running a business with an uncle overseas. They flew in and out of town frequently. Hence, I was left in the care of an aunt who popped over every other day to make sure that the house was still a house and that I hadn’t demolished it. She would always come by on Friday evenings to make sure I was all set for the weekend. She never came by on Saturdays or Sundays without leaving me a note on my voicemail, usually a day, beforehand. This was perfect. Schoolwise I was doing well enough to ensure that my parents didn’t launch an inquisition on me.
Soon I had my second, third and subsequent tea dances, followed by the regular drinking sessions. During one of these sessions I had one drop too much and was totally feeling woozy by the end of the night. I don’t hold my alcohol very well, even now. Mark volunteered to send me home. I was still awake, just unable to walk straight. As he plonked me on the bed and sat beside me, we had a moment.
That moment lingered on and gradually he leaned forward and kissed me. Kisses followed by touches which became caresses. I gave in to his advances and reciprocated. Not long after, my clothes came off followed by his. In the drunken stupor I was in, I could only react with sounds as I felt that familiar piercing sensation at my initmate part. Soon it picked up pace, Mark was fucking me.
I must have passed out as I woke up the next day in the same state I was in. My clothes were all over my room. Mark was nowhere to be seen. He did leave me a note, a handwritten single word note - “Thanks”.
Mixed feelings. That’s what I felt as I read that note over and over.
“Thanks”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Are we dating couple now?
I waited for Mark’s voicemail. It didn’t come. Each day the confusion grew. I finally plucked up enough courage and voicemailed him asking to meet.
The meet up started with a dinner at which we only exchanged pleasantries. We then proceeded to walk at the park near my place. The whole time there was silence as we walked around aimlessly. Finally, in a moment of bravado, I mustered everything within me and moved to hold his hand. What’s the worst that could happen right? He’s seen and touched everything already.
The moment our hands met, he jolted and retracted his hand immediately as though he touched burning coals.
I, too, was shocked, never anticipated such a violent reaction from him. In that moment of confusion, I thought that perhaps giving him a moment of tenderness would be perfect. So I called out to him “Dear… What’s wrong?”
“Don’t call me dear, we are not stead.” Came the reply. As soon as those words reached my ears, tears started to form. “I thought you were lonely after Brian left you.”
Sleepless, tearful nights ensued. Who can I blame?
That was the end of guy number 2
Hi all, thanks for the affirmations.
Work’s quite hectic at the moment, hence, the slow updates. Lemme get that part in order first ya?
No.3
Even with Mark out of my life, I had managed to befriend a group of others that I could tea dance and party with. Hence, Saturdays were beginning to be a routine for me.
On the school side of things, I did well enough for my ‘N’ levels and also did well enough in class tests to give my parents the confidence that I was going to score well for the O’s. So they pretty much left me alone. Of course I had to lie about my Saturday shenanigans. The perfect excuse? Studying at a friend’s. I had the perfect plan. I would leave my party clothes with someone from the group earlier during the week. On Saturdays I would go over to her place, doll up and we’d party together. Then I would return to her place, clean up, change back then go home thereafter. My parents were non the wiser.
Tea dances, dinner, hanging out. It was life on repeat. One that I didn’t mind anyway. So in the midst of all these partying, I got to know a guy from the group. No, wait, HE got to know me. Let’s call him CK.
CK is your regular 90’s beng. The mandatory centre parted gold highlighted hairstyle, bright blue long sleeve shirt hanging out with the top 2 buttons undone, bright yellow jeans with the bottom hem folded upwards showing his ankles and his white loafers.
So he started chatting me up as soon as I got acquainted with this party club. Despite the english - hokkien language barrier and the many misintepretations, we got along fine. Soon I picked up dialect, though not spouting full sentences as fluent as he did, I managed well enough to understand him. I was sixteen going on seventeen, he was 2 years older.
With my abyssmal track record in relationships, I was on guard pretty much all the time earlier on. So, our conversations were mostly superficial, touch and go topics. Afterall I wasn’t looking to date, I just wanted my fill of loud music, dance, alcohol and cigarettes. Plus I couldn’t get distracted, I needed to ace in school to keep myself off my parents’ radar.
CK persisted, he took every chance he had to start a conversation with me. It was so fucking obvious to the rest of the group that he had a thing for me, though, not that he cared what they thought or the teasing that came his way anyway. He just persisted.
Soon conversations became insisting in sending me home after Saturday parties. That meant that he would accompany me to our friend’s place, waited for me while I showered and freshen up, then accompany me back to my place. He wanted to send me all the way to my doorstep… Now that I didn’t allow. The elevator lobby was sufficient enough. Hell no! I wouldn’t wanna be caught with a boy by my parents. That’ll ruin everything. Besides I didn’t want him to know where exactly I lived.
Hi all, I was hoping to do up a post this holiday season but I’m really worn out.
Sorry for the delay, fighting fires at work is draining me quite abit…
Time flies when:
Before long, I was done with O’s. My prelim results enable me to pursue college education thus, I had a rather short post O’s vacation. Instead of taking up a vacation job, I decided to just let my hair down and enjoy the short 1 month holiday as much as possible.
Saturday tea dances were a permanent fixture in my calendar. I planned the entire weekend around it. It was during this time that CK started hanging around me alot more and he tried introducing me the full nocturnal clubbing scene. Despite being only 17, I managed to gain entry due to CK’s connections with the bouncer.
It was a dream come true for me! Alcohol had loud dance music at the same time. This was bliss!
CK and I got closer. Soon I let him send me to my floor when he was sending me home. We would usually ride the elevator to my floor, I would disembark then he will ride the elevator down to the ground floor.
Then came NYE…
That was the first NYE that I got the approval from my parents to spend it with friends. Needless to say I was clubbing and partying the night away. When the clock struck midnight, the whole club was in euphoria. Auld lang Syne was blasting and everyone was hugging one another. Eventually CK found me on the dance floor and embraced me.
As we left the club that morning, my hand was in his. So I guess that was the start of something new?