death to the bad boy.
written: 10:45 p.m. on Sunday, Dec. 23, 2007

The entry that I lost was this rather long analysis of what "one true love" means and why I think that the phrase and its usage are dishonest, but I can't bear the thought of writing it out again and I am really rather sleepy to do so now anyway, so...maybe some other time, maybe never.

Before I move on though, a message to Mel just in case she didn't read my tag on her tag board: Clubbing with you was NOT bad! I had a lot of fun, and we should totally do it again. Like, totally. Maybe Wednesday if I can manipulate my parents into not making too much noise about it which might be quite difficult considering I said that day that I only "club once in a while what". See how it goes!

I amazingly spent my entire Saturday outside. I left the house at 10.30 a.m. to go shopping at Guess which is having a sale and I wanted to avoid the crowd; in the end I bought one top and no jeans because I couldn't find a size 24 (I refuse to wear anything bigger than a size 24!) that fit me that wasn't over a hundred dollars. Oh well. After that I walked around aimlessly, nearly falling asleep, just to crash at Starbucks when I was sick of walking. I went on to have a mushroom and spinach quiche and a cup of iced black coffee. Halfway through my coffee I went to the toilet to wash my hands and left all my stuff at my seat, and when I came back I found that my coffee was gone! Pissed, I demanded to know where the hell my coffee went to and the Starbucks girl said that she'd make me another one - which she did. And it made me damn full.

Therefore, I ended up watching Kenneth and Mag eat lunch. Haha. After that we walked around That CD Shop for a bit, then somehow ended up at Paragon's Starbucks where I almost broke my bloody teeth on their bloody bagel, and where Kenneth and I fought over one dollar. Meaning, I paid him back with $5 for my bagel which was like, $2.50, and he gave me back $3. I refused to take the $1, he refused to take it back, we kept pushing it to each other across the table until Mag intervened and was all, "Don't fight, children!" HAHA. I won in the end, of course. We all found out interesting things about each other too, which was definitely interesting. But that's not for public consumption.

At around 6.30, Mag had to leave for City Hall to meet her friend. My original plan was to go home for dinner because I was bloody sleepy and super tired and the Christmas shopping Orchard crowd was just damn annoying. But Kenneth needed to buy a Christmas present, and I hadn't eaten anything substantial the whole day, so whilst looking at stuff in Takashimaya at 6.50 I decided that it made more sense for me to have dinner in town, because I would've collapsed in some ditch somewhere if I waited to go home for dinner. And since Orchard was damn crowded, and because Kenneth wanted a Christian bookstore, we headed to Suntec.

In the end, after dinner and everything when it was about 9 p.m., we discovered that the bookstore had closed down and that the one at the auditorium beat us by two minutes. We went into this gift shop where Kenneth had a good time laughing at me, for once, and I was tempted to buy this beanie baby ghost called Ghostio which I thought was damn cute but it was $10 and honestly a huge waste of money, so I settled for buying a small alarm clock that has a pirated image of James Dean on it. When contemplating the clock I wasn't sure if it was James Dean and I said, "I think it's James Dean. Does it look at James Dean to you? [Kenneth doesn't know who he is] What if I wake up tomorrow and decide that it's not James Dean?" For some odd reason Kenneth found that funny and couldn't stop laughing.

He was contemplating this funeral/magician/wedding bear/beaver/mutated beaver/squirrel beanie baby which he ended up not buying 'cause after staring at it for like, 15 minutes, neither he nor I could determine what animal it was. It was rather hilarious watching him do a practical criticism on the beanie baby; he was all, "Why is he wearing black?" I didn't know whether to die in exasperation or to die laughing. I think I did both.

Anyway, by the time we headed for the Esplanade bus stop it was past ten, and when I got home it was past eleven and I was bloody knackered. And somehow, I still slept at 3 a.m. I truly amaze myself.

What is more amazing is that I'm really not sad and that I am defying the expectations that I had a few months ago that I would be sad during this time of the year. Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and Christmas is on Tuesday, and many eventful things happened last Christmas Eve and Christmas. But it doesn't matter to me anymore. It catches me by surprise when I remember that I'm forgetting to think about it, but maybe I shouldn't be surprised because there is nothing to think about. Quoting Brave New World (though applying it in an entirely different context and perhaps distorting it), history is bunk. And that's all there is to it.

On another, but peripherally related note, Lavan had an interesting blog entry on the bad boy appeal and how a "Responsible (Catholic) Bad Boy" is really much more appealing. I have to admit that I've always had a thing for bad boys. That dangerous edge connotes excitement, irresistible such that it is capable of blinding me to his flaws and short-comings. His vices make him seem worldly, his attitude make him seem tough; but I'm not sure what it was about the bad boy that really got me. I don't think I spent a lot of time thinking about it back then.

And I say 'back then' because I think I'm quite over that now, if not completely over that. To put it as clearly as possible, I really don't want to deal with his rubbish baggages. I'm not interested in cleaning up his shit and I have no respect for anyone who can't take responsibility for his own actions, who goes through life with a vague, barely-there idea of what it means to be responsible. To be perfectly honest? Smoking and excessive drinking to the point of puking, near-drunkenness, and/or near drunkenness completely turn me off now. It's not exactly pleasant to go home after a date with your hair and your clothes and your skin smelling like cigarettes, and the whole smoking thing was never cool to begin with. It only becomes something I learn to look past; but now, prima facie, smoking is a deal breaker. I can't stand it. It makes me choke, it is disgustingly and unbelievably smelly, and I'm pretty sure it's really not good for my ex-asthma thingy. I can't imagine why anyone would do it, but of course that's just me.

And drinking? I do it myself too and so do a lot of my friends, but it becomes ridiculous when one goes out to drink the whole night. I don't care how high your alcohol tolerance is; there is really no need to drink so damn much. If you want to talk to your friends I'm sure there's a perfectly healthy alternative that does not require you guys holing up in some shady alcoholic establishment all the way until 5 in the bloody morning. What is the point? I can't understand how anyone would do this for fun. I stayed out until 3 a.m. that Wednesday and I was about to fall asleep standing up in the club.

More importantly, you really just want to be treated right and in a manner in which you should be treated. Maybe the good boy is boring, but what is boredom compared to pain and torture and all that nonsensical, waste-of-time emotional heartbreaks and tears? I would choose the former over the latter in a heart beat. There is something about a guy who is genuinely nice and inherently kind-hearted, who doesn't feel the need to hide it behind some false tough-guy bravado, that has the ability to melt even the coldest person ever. Everyone can be nice, and everyone can appear to be nice; but it takes a person who is intrinsically thoughtful and considerate and even selfless for that niceness to come across as genuine and sincere. Guys like that put the bad boy to shame, and they provide all the reasons why girls shouldn't waste their time on bad boys because, really, they're just rather overrated, aren't they?

So, Lavan, worry not. I am of the sincere opinion that the only girls who are still into bad boys are those still labouring under some stupid delusion and illusion that they can "tame" the said bad boys and reform them. This means that girls like that have issues and are utterly immature, so...who cares?

Okay, I don't think I have much of a point and I don't know what I'm writing about anymore and I'm damn tired so I think I'll go shower now.

It's been a nice, long, eventful week.

before sunrise // before sunset

- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010