Malicious Mai Tai

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

From A Midsummer Night's Dream (I, i, 134)

-William Shakespeare-

One of the main stumbling blocks to the Romance That Never Happened was the back-stabbing piranha’s absolutely oozing out of the pores of our old offices. This is a long story, so bear with me. Be warned, though, there's no resolution in sight. (A bit ironic, considering our areas of specialty...)

When I first met Mr. Darcy, he was very sweet. (Though I will never say that word with his name in the same sentence now!) Never alluding to the power and prestige of his background, it was only because everyone else knew where he came from and what he was. This seemed to paint him an arrogant boor. (That and the fact he completely lacked any social skills whatsoever! You guys notice a pattern yet? I’m so verbose, so I’m always attracted to the strong silent types. Go figure! If the both of us were chatty, who’d be doing the listening?)

Anyway, while I admit, I was attracted to him from the get go, it was (truly) never anything to do with where he came from, and who he was. The attraction was the man he almost was, and who he aspired to be. (So Renee in Jerry Maguire here!) He wasn’t very cute (in Vixen speak, that meant he wasn’t very tall). He didn’t have an impressive dress sense – which usually jumped out at me (I have no problems admitting that I’m shallow). He had the social skills of a hermit … and he could only talk about work … and worse, golf. There was a lack of passion in living life that I always find off-putting in a man.. or anyone.

But when I was in the room, he seemed to light up, and come out of his self- imposed detention. He was always clambering after me – so sweet in his clumsiness, so unlike his usual confident know-all demeanour. He’d ask about what I was up to, or my latest scrape. (It was fast becoming the highlight of my former office-mates day when I walked into the room. I was almost always greeted with "Vix, tell us stories!" in a what-happened-to-you-today type way. Undeniably, something or other would inevitably happen to me. Drama seeks me like a moth to a flame.)

However, I soon got the sense that I was being actively disliked. (Trust me, this is relevant!) Making and keeping friends wherever I went; was something (perhaps the only thing!) I’m 100% confident in. This change completely floored me. These women seem to dislike me, based on nothing I had done other than being myself! (Note – it was all women, and Darcy- the sole rose among the thorns. You see why these women were busy grappling over him like a pack of rabid dogs over a measly bone?)

It has since hit me that it was probably my fast-blossoming friendship with Darcy that was the cause of all this discontent. I couldn’t help it if we had the most in common and that we understood each other, and more importantly, why shouldn’t I cultivate a friendship with a seemingly nice enough guy who seemed interested back?

Things came to a head early on when on one of our very first outings as new colleagues, we went out for drinks. Not being a competent driver, and being completely unfamiliar with the roads in KL, (okay, and being a complete chicken too) I was relying on a colleague to send me home. It soon transpired as we stood outside the entrance while Darcy waited for his car (valet, of course, dah-ling), that neither of us (the colleague giving me a ride and me) had a clue how to get me home. Darcy, was very familiar with my living area, hence it seemed only natural that I got bundled into the car with him the moment it pulled up on the curb.

Once away from the crowds, alone in his car (much to my complete shock and amazement) - he started off by saying how much he enjoyed my company. He said how he was well aware that he constantly teased me with sarcastic jibes and was delighted that I always took it so well and in such good humour. I was taken aback by this seeming confession; my heart was pounding in a manner that made me – for once – lose all ability to speak.

Then he kept silent for a while, before mumbling shyly, "You know I don’t mean it, right? I really like –"

This is when his mobile rang. How I wish to this day I had answered it as he told me to – but when I hesitated, he’d picked up the call himself. In a split second, it all came tumbling down like a house of cards. Next thing I know, he was making a U-turn and heading back to the bar.

Flabbergasted, he’d shook his head at me and said how another guy was going to take me home as I lived nearer his area, and he was under orders to take home another colleague. Confused, especially in light of what almost happened, I kept silent, and let the others dictate what was meant to happen, and just followed orders.

As did he.

#1 - I didn’t live near this other fellow’s area, and that other guy did not have a clue how to get me home. #2 – Darcy had to go hours out of his way to take home the other (non-threatening female) colleague, and got lost on the way back too. It was such a transparent attempt to keep us apart – unfortunately, I was helpless, and Darcy didn’t seem to want to do anything about it.

Later on, I heard one particularly vicious snake, which we shall refer to as the Tart (for obvious reasons), who had high ambitions of becoming the next Lady Darcy, had rung him and said, "Do you want to be rescued?" in reference to the fact I talk too much, and he not at all. (Darcy was always laughing at me for my chatterbox ways, but until that night, I always thought he enjoyed my company. Perhaps he did, but the Tart managed to make me doubt it). I can’t remember it, but the story at the office was that Darcy’s reply was "Yes, tell me how".

Because I was in the said vehicle, and knew exactly what was going on between us, I cannot imagine that he said that. But in the harsh light of day, it seemed like I dreamed the whole thing up! (Especially when he seemed unmoved and tight-lipped about the whole thing.)

We never did get another chance. And Darcy has not yet summoned up the courage to finish that sentence.

I, however, had my moment of reckoning with the Tart, when finally weary of being all Miss Sunshine and Blue Skies the whole time, I'd confronted her about the whole "Do you want to be rescued," thing. The pure shock on her face was priceless. Her beady little eyes went as wide as it could (have I mentioned yet that she was educated in Singapore? What is it with that country! My theory is that it must be the water. My apologies to all nice Singaporeans out there ... I've not met any of you yet! And your ambassadors have not been doing a good job - to say the least.) as she gasped "How did you find out?!" And I swear she looked over at Darcy, frozen with fear.

He was right next to her as I whirled around to face him. (Okay, I had a few drinks – he did not deserve this, and I knew it! Our audience didn’t though. And that, my friends, was the point.) "And you, with your tell me how," I sneered, my hurt feelings getting too much for me. I guess poor Darcy didn’t know what hit him. (He was very English in the way he refused to display any emotion. He did, however, look furious that night!) He barked out at the Tart, demanding an explanation, but that was the last I heard as I haughtily made my exit, head held high.

I never got my explanation. I don’t regret one minute of closing those doors behind me for good. It would be a day too soon if I had to see another two-headed snake that I used to share an office with. They can have their seemingly glittering career and their Prince. I - having served my sentence and learnt my lessons, am moving onwards and upwards.

When Mr. Darcy makes his escape, he knows where to find me.

Dom Darcy & the Daquiri Diva

"I have simple tastes -

I am only satisfied with the best"

-Oscar Wilde-

I realise all I’ve written about is Dr. Dish. But there is a Mr. Darcy in the fringes of my life … never actually physically present (as Dr. Dish is), but I (still) can’t seem to get him out of my mind. I wonder if that is why I’m avoiding pursuing a commitment with Dr. Dish … our arrangement suits me fine, because I’m holding out for something better.

Something like Mr. Darcy.

It has come to my attention that people are confused whether or not Mr. Darcy is a real life person of the 3D generation or a "template" I’m basing my requirements of Mr. Right on. The answer is yes … and no. I do refer to my Mr. Right as "Mr. Darcy" … but I believe I have found him.

I am still in the Elizabeth-esque throes of hatred, though. The Mr. Darcy referred to in these excerpts is a real life person who I think epitomises the character created by Ms. Austen centuries back.

He may wear Armani instead of a cravat and a tux instead of coat tails and a top hat (at least not since his public school boy days - sue me, I'm a sucker for the posh English types. I guess a Malaysian Anglophile comes close?). My Mr. Darcy has no fashion sense to save his life, but he exudes that arrogance and confidence from every pore, that unfortunately, I have found difficult to resist, despite his blatant rudeness.

(Very much like Elizabeth Bennet - "It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity.")

It’s been almost 3 years now since we met, and he’s done the following in that time:

1 Made me fall for him. (I never say love until I’m 100% sure … but there’s certainly something there! On my part, at least)

2. Befriended me, then cut me dry, with no rhyme or reason. (Well, the reason is his pride, but he’d never admit to it!)

3. Dated my good friend (neither of them who told me about it – hence he ruined my friendship too)

4. Been a complete Prat. (no two ways around this one.)

Our history is simple enough - we met, we clicked instantly, in a way that was undeniable to anyone who witnessed it. There were literally sparks in the room when we were both in it, making it impossible for us to be just friends, or mere professional colleagues.

I’d had just arrived in KL, after almost a decade abroad. Not only was I still reeling from the devastation of my failed relationship with the Rotten Ex, but I was also trying to acclimatise myself to my home ground once again, having been a "Londoner" for so long. Not only had I needed to rebuild my life again, I also had to jump-start my career. Romance was furthest from my thoughts.

It all changed the day I walked into my new place of employment and saw Mr. Darcy. I never believed in love at first sight. (Yes, romantic that I am -I do have my practical moments!) But after that first introduction, when our eyes first met … I find it impossible that he didn’t feel the sparks I did.

We’d found, in a miraculously short span of time, that though diametrically opposite in character, we were, at heart, innately compatible. Coming from a similar upbringing and background, we had the same principles in life. We even shared the same fears and insecurities, as well as the same hopes and dreams for the future.

At the end of the day, no matter how different you are on the outset, that’s what counts, wasn’t it?

However, there has been no happy ending (yet). I’m afraid to say, it did not work out the way it could have. I was the Romantic Idealist, he was the soul of Practicality. (He was Sense to my Sensibility.) Love got in the way of his 5 year plan to climb the Corporate ladder - he didn’t want love in his life, he didn’t want to make time for romance, and my pride wouldn’t let me pursue him. I can’t explain why ... for someone who’s used to throwing caution to the wind and just doing, I was powerless to make this very important thing happen for me.

So with me resenting him for being a coward and not taking a stand, and him blaming me for complicating his life …it all turned to extreme tension and all that tension then turned into a love-hate type relationship. Instead of becoming friends, we became friendly adversaries …. at first. He constantly nit-picked at me, and often, I gave back as good as I got. He couldn’t just talk to me, he had to find fault with me which lead to furious debate and heated argument. Unfortunately, I was the louder and less likely to censor myself (especially when I was right!). Guess he didn’t like being taken down his pedestal in public, but I wasn’t the sort to care - then.

This "rivalry" turned to hate with the final straw coming and going without me even realising it. Instead of resolving things with me, he took the chicken’s way out and just cut me out of his life completely. He’d go so far as to not even acknowledge my presence, whether I was seated next to him, or across the road from him. In Mr. Darcy’s world, I simply did not exist.

It wasn’t hate … Mr. Darcy, like his namesake can act completely devoid of emotion. He acted like he was incapable of feeling and warmth, and pretty much everyone but me believed it. I’d seen the softer side. Perhaps he was appalled he’d shown so much to me?

Even though I’ve now left those offices behind me, and Mr. Darcy is no longer part of my daily life … we still keep bumping into each other. Sometimes he’s charming – deigning to acknowledge my presence, sometimes he’s a boor, walking right by me like I was nothing more than part of the furniture.

So far, there is no happy ending in sight …. but my romantic heart is ever hopeful. However, whether or not Mr. Darcy would ever cotton on, I do not know. I could very well be "labouring under a misapprehension".

I must state for the record that Mr. Darcy’s thoughts and feelings in this matter are all entirely my own perception (and perhaps imagination?). I could be deluding myself, and he could just be not just that into me… only I really don’t think so.

Like a mutual friend recently said to me (after only meeting us for a only couple of weeks then going back to her home across the Atlantic) – she thought our lives were like a Hollywood chick flick. "Fun, energetic chic girl, meets arrogant, hard-working serious boy, and fall in love, despite their differences, (after several horrible run-ins, of course) when they realise, deep down, at heart, they are innately compatible." I couldn't have put it better myself.

We’re still on the horrible run-ins stage, but the credits are by no means ready to roll.

Watch this space...

Mimosa Madness!

CJ said the other day she was perfectly happy for once as all the people she loved were in the same geographical vicinity. I get what she means now. Last night, I welcomed home my good friend Phoebe - so nicknamed after the same of Friends fame. Not that she’s the slightest bit ditzy, our feisty Doctor (yes, most of my friends are doctors, it was the college we went to!) is the sharpest tool in the shed. However, once we were on holiday with a group of English backpackers, and not one of them could pronounce her name, so they called her Phoebe. Months later, another one of my English (male) friends did the same. I’m afraid it’s stuck ever since!

Pheebs is only back for a week, and despite the fact we’re not in constant contact everyday, given her busy schedule, it only took one evening to have me remembering how fond I am of her. She’s a lot like me, except amplified a tenfold! Scary thought, eh!

What got my attention was my realisation that I love who I am with her, for she brings out the (even) wild(er) side of me.

Like CJ is the Yin to my Yang – ever the voice of reason and sensibility and yes, gives balance to my universe, Phoebe causes me to throw caution to the wind and live! In fact, with Phoebe,I feel like the sane one!

Like she would talk at the top of her voice in public, wanting to know the most intimate of details, and when I resist, she just scoffs "Like you’re ever going to see these people again."

You've got to admit, the girl has a point!

However, like CJ, she too, is incredibly protective of me. (I guess I bring out that quality in all my friends?) This one time we were at a dodgy nightclub and I overheard a group of men say something along the lines of "Look at these fit women, they deserve to be raped." Completely appalled, I told Phoebe immediately. She didn’t hesitate. Without even checking with me who said what, she whirled around and slapped the first guy she got. (Guilt by association and all...)

Of course, if I was 6 foot tall with that raging temper and volume to match, I’m guessing the guys wouldn’t dare do too much either. Phoebe certainly was not a force to be reckoned with!

She was also the one who literally, taught me all about the bare facts of life. I’ll never forget our bedroom behaviour conversations! Every guy I’d been with really has her to thank (or blame?) for giving me a clue (or several!).

She has a carefree sense of living life to the fullest and to hell with the consequences I wish I had, but I know I have something like sanity and reason holding me back! On that same holiday it was Phoebe who decided we should go skinny dipping. Short of pulling my suit off, she made me go along with it. The old Vixen would be cringing with embarassment, but the Vixen now is proud of her so called "wild" past.

But I’m a fake wild child. I’m still me, I still consider the consequences and truly, I would never do something like that without the Phoebe's demands (or lots and lots of alcohol!). Also, I can’t deny I’m a little bit afraid of her! But Phoebe always seems to innately know I want to do, but my inhibitions were holding me back. She's not ever made me do anything I didn't already secretly want to do.

I look up to her - then and now.

All my friends have qualities I admire and wish I could emulate. But the fact is - I genuinely feel loved back with friends like Phoebe and CJ. I’m very lucky in the people who’ve chosen to have me in their lives, and its something I hope they never feel I take for granted.

Amaretto Amore

The similarity of amaretto and amoretto leads to the concept of "a little bitter love".The amaretti created by the amoretti were small biscuits, like love both bitter and sweet, and presented wrapped together in pairs like a pair of sweethearts.

-Wikipedia-

So I’ve been told I sound too happy in my excerpts. (Like it’s a fault???) I don’t think about it much, but generally, I really am one happy bunny. Nothing truly gets me down or keeps me down for long. I don’t let it.

Nothing except, my One Great Heartbreak. I hadn’t thought about it in a while, but a few nights ago, I awoke feeling 100%. No thoughts of the Rotten Ex, no thoughts of the Singaporean Slut to haunt me like they have for the past 3 years. I mean, surely I’m letting this drag on for far too long? People get over heartbreaks in record time.

He certainly did.

But I was wrong. That brief interlude has lead to the bursting of a long-holding dam. Now, I’m being bombarded every day by old memories, serving up fresh lashes of pain on a wound that should have been healed by now. I thought I’d successfully locked away the memories of that devastating relationship and mailed the trunk to Siberia.

However did it find its way back to me here in Malaysia, completely intact?

So what's wrong with me that I still think about this man? No one who knows either of us is able to tell me to my face that they think we belong together. He’s the direct opposite of me, and I don’t just mean the height! He’s reserved and will only speak when spoken to, and very like the real Mr. Darcy, speak to whom only he deems appropriate (public school educated tosser that he was!) I, on the other hand, have famously been described as "will talk to a wall if I thought it’d talk back to me". (That’s a direct quote.)

His idea of a night out is down to the pub for the footie them back home to the tv. Now I actually love football, and I actually understand it. (Obviously something to keep us together? Relationships have been based on much less!). But I also love doing the club circuit, the partying the dancing and of course, the drinking, till dawn.

I'm happiest in a crowd, at the centre of attention. The Rotten Ex was happiest when there was no one to bother him, to force him to be sociable. I’d turned down almost every invitation I’d received to go out, in my time with him, preferring to sit at home, in my PJ’s watching Eastenders, than to get glammed up and sloshed. I still cannot believe I lived this life for almost 2 years, and yet, to be brutally honest, I’d never felt so happy, or so fulfilled or content, in my entire life.

I think I gave my heart away so completely, that I still haven’t got it properly back. My emotions when it comes to relationships now are almost nil. I successfully hold myself back … but with no real effort. Take Dr. Dish – the old Vixen would have never let it go on for this long … certainly, would have never even gotten involved if there was no love. But no love was the safest route. As for Mr. Darcy – he’s unattainable, and therein lies the attraction. To be honest, if he turned up at my doorstep, professing True Love … I’m not sure I wouldn’t slam the door shut on him.

But with the Rotten Ex – walking down a street was an adventure. Shopping at Waitrose, picking out our dinner, was a pure joy. I looked forward to seeing him everyday, despite the fact we lived together. I almost always woke up with a smile on my face. To hold his hand still gave me a thrill. He made every romance novel I’d read, every cheesy Hollywood ending, every soppy love song ring true for me. He was my every wish … and I still cannot believe there was no Happily Ever After.

Forget a swinging social life versus nights in by the tv. Our connection went beyond that. We could spend hours just talking, exchanging ideas and views, laughing at the world, dreaming of a future. We were both literature freaks and would spend day’s just browsing bookstores (in different sections) One time on a romantic mini-break in Kent, we came out grinning from ear to ear at our finds at a second hand bookshop– he, with an ancient version of Chekhov and me with the Complete Works of Oscar Wilde. Now who else would’ve gotten that?

Above all, I loved the way he loved me. Just the way I loved him. Completely. I will never doubt it. Not then, not now.

He once memorably said to me "I love how intelligent you are, your ability to grasp concepts straight away. With the exception of the away games rule, of course!" (I can’t explain it; I get the offside rule with no problem, but have trouble getting my head round the away games rule.) That in a nutshell, summed me up.

You see, he gets me, the real me. No one would ever know me as well. I’d like to say I knew him inside out as well, but for the fact of how he behaved in the end of our road. I’d have never ever guessed he could be that cruel. But he was the Perfect Boyfriend.

Just a really Rotten Ex-Boyfriend.

My friends convinced me (as they had to, for what other choice was there?) that of course I will get over this, OF COURSE I will weather this storm and one day meet Someone who made me feel 100% more than He ever did.

3 years on, I’m afraid to say it’s not true. I’ve never come close to even FEELING again. And it’s just not fair. You see, I never believed love could die. I always thought you only fell in love once, that one time would be forever.

Amore para sempre. Forever love. We were supposed to love forever.

Flames to dust

Lovers to friends

Why do all good things come to an end ?

-Nelly Furtado, "All Good Things" -

I started writing to him, before the dam burst. I said "I get it now, I get how relationships end, how love doesn’t always last and how realisation sometimes just hits too little too late." But I’ve realised that I was lying. I still don’t get it. To my mind, if it ends, then it couldn’t have been love.

Right?