Come Hither.

Asian Fusion.



I'll never understand why is it that because of a bloody function, formal be it not, do we actually have to spend so much on dressing to the nines.

Beats me, I'm a transexual.



I tried on a cheongsum today. Virgin cheongsum-mer, seriously. Because maybe it's a short people thing, like you can never reach for the back zip, perhaps manage it up half way, and then had to get someone to help you zip the goddamn thing. Lucky girl who helped zip the cheongsum, because I was wearing my funkytone bra and she saw it all ...


"Nice bra," said Angmoh Cheongsum-wearing salesgirl.
"KNN, lesbian," thought I.



Basically, the fabric is silk, and there's only one piece for every design because the cloth is imported and hand-sewn. I took the sleeveless, white silk, with black rose prints at the bottom, and the slits had silver white rose petal buttons lining them. The slits were really high. I look like those good-for-nothing, high-tea 24/7, Shanghai Night tarts who dates Mafia Boys.

Great, now I found a perfect outfit that I can sport while driving massive vehicle of mass destruction - Toyota Estima.


Imagine, growing asian adult, satin blue killer 4 inch heels, hops down massive vehicle, falls, undies exposed, reach under high cut slits, pull out .47 and goes on mass shoot-out.


Perfecto

-,-


WHY ESTIMA, LAH (?!)


Now, all I lack is a perfect Mafia Boyfriend, preferably named as follow ;
SoSexyMehMehHottyPotty
KaaNeeNahWhyYouScoldBadWord
WalaoEhYouSmellyCheebees.



Anyway, pretty silk, and high cut slits, but sadly so, my ass, apparently, sticks out, as usual. Tragic, tragedy.

I still love cheongsums though. Secretly envy the type of elegance it radiates. Pride your asian roots.



Aren't you sick of reading my disastrous shopping escapade? I am.










Honestly, I feel useless, how I doubt my own words. Y'know, I am envious of two individuals who have the privilege to be engaged in a heated argument, ignoring each other, stubborn as they are, with one party constantly having to initiate a peaceful conversation, hard as it always is.

Ironically, it is that whole feeling of reconcilation in the early morning because both parties cannot sleep peacefully, the 2am conversations, and the endless "I'm sorry". And then going to bed feeling like you're the happiest person on earth, because you go to bed, shocked at how much you actually love this boy. Yes, ironically. I do miss that. I can't even remember when was the last time I had that surge of emotions.

What I am trying to say, is that, arguments are common. Two completely different individuals are bound to collide head-on somehow, be it personal preferences, upbringing, thoughts, believes, perceptions etc. I'm not trying to encourage you guys to fight. I just think that arguments, fights, be it any form of disagreements, the both of you will grow from it.

You'll learn to accept flaws gradually.



See, I don't think I can find another who fits the "flawed mould" I've gotten so used to. I'm scared. I don't want to date. Stop asking me to. I'm perfectly fine.



I fit the perfect description of "Girlfriend from Hell", so I could hardly do anything when she needed advice. I am scared to tell her the wrong stuff, scared to tell her what to do and what not to do. I don't want my bestfriend to end up like, y'know, me. I screwed up. I'm sorry I couldn't help much. I could only give you my ears, girlfriend. You'll learn, he'll learn, you two will be fine. I know it.

Like the saying goes, "Every relationship that can be saved, should be saved," and I think theirs can still be saved. So therefore, my theory.



All I can do when I miss him, is practice in my head, and then recite the lines to myself, pretending to recall the way it was back then, for lack of better days. It helps me get by.





I can't believe I actually stayed up so late spilling all my perfect theories about relationships.




Cheers, forty winks.


A hundred lilies.