Motorcycle Emptiness

For Real

This is sad. I have been spending the past few weeks exhausting myself silly. If there wasn’t these pitches I’ve been working on, it was mind numbing sessions at the gym. And when I felt I needed to take a break from the mental and physical workload, I take it out on a couple of pints with different companies of friends every week.

Went to catch The Lives of Others with a group of people I hardly knew. It was Stallion’s invitation I accepted. And there was his friend, JQ who invited her, and I quote “international posse”. The night became a networking session – us sitting at Sakae Sushi exchanging information, gossip and jokes. Which was grand, considering how anti social and clampy I can get when getting to know new folks. They were warm, friendly and this may seem the most trivial factor of all – they laughed at Stallion’s jokes. Stallion has always complained about how very few people could understand his jokes and I don’t understand either, because I am a huge fan of his deadpan self depreciating humor. The Stallion actually took time off to draw an itinerary and a post mortem email for everyone, which was hilarious considering, well it was just a movie outing.

Mr Cali and I have been emailing each other frequently and frankly speaking, all the initial euphoria is wearing off. Let’s face it: he doesn’t read, he knows nuts about music. Not that it is any regimental qualification for me, but there isn’t much we had in common except for his motivational quotes and sweet lovin’. Fine, I ensured he’s no Republican, but he ain’t no self professed fan of Noam Chomsky, Kundera, Camus and all other literary nobles lauded by intellectuals and pseudo intellectuals alike.

Ok. He has never heard of them. I did my homework on my first date.

Let’s take this back for those who are lost.

Mr Cali and I met at a pub on Mrs Darcy’s birthday. After clearing that initial misunderstanding, (he thought Mrs Darcy was into him and vice versa) we hooked up because well, I was in a roving mood and chocolates are in vogue. Sessions of fine dinners, drinks, shoe shopping and a nice romantic night at the Mandarin ensued.

He was a surprisingly gentle lover, perceptive and well, he had fine taste in (high) fashion. Here was a man who was willing to pamper me, knows I deserve the best and is all out to give me the best.

And it fits our lifestyle perfectly – I am always busy and he has to travel all the time for work and spends between four and six months in Singapore. But when we meet up, I’m all his, and (yes I'm flouting the grammar commandment by repeating this within two paragraphs) vice versa.

It was the perfect arrangement. It may not be the most normal of relationships and frankly speaking, what with the bourgeoning workload and after the fiasco(s) I’ve endured (ah, my poor desecrated heart!) the past few years, a normal relationship is the least on my mind. It gives me time to miss him and have a contractual relationship lasting between two weeks and a month at a time.

I get bored easily.

But of course, as the saying goes – out of sight, out of mind. I am Jack’s smirking revenge, Jill’s nipples and your nubile nymph out on a brainless fun, with no moral notions on fidelity and the likes. Hell, Mr Cali probably has a wife in every visiting port.

But you know, I know, we all know, I’ll never end up marrying him, having kids and living the high life in his Porsche, adorning expensive watches, decked out in Ferragamo, Gucci and Prada. I’m just not like that. As much as I love being all that, it’s just not how I was brought up. The things you own end up owning you.

That was a line from a movie. I’d love to give you the title but the first rule is, you do not talk about it. Go figure.

So.

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This is when MAP comes in.

Under neon loneliness, motorcycle emptiness.

What a lame ending.