We hadn’t known each other for that long but it did feel like forever. I believed she was my soulmate. We were similar, yet different in a complementary way. I needed her and she needed me. We were two perfectly fitted pieces of a complete puzzle — the puzzle of who we were individually, of the long, tiring journey leading us to where we were then.
I want to become an actress, a mega rich and famous one whose name is relevant at every dinner party and red carpet. I want to be on the classy rank of Meryl Streep, Angelina Jolie, Julie Roberts or Anna Hathaway. I want to have my nails and hair done professionally every day, own millions worth of homes including a penthouse in London and a villa in California, two Ferrari’s — one in white and one in sky blue, customised two-floor walk-in closets, private sushi chefs and world-class home spas.
Mediocrity, to me, is a disease. It’s contagious if not careful. Especially at my young age, it’s inevitable that I will be influenced and shaped by my surroundings, by the people I spend the majority of my time with. I don’t want to make the wrong choices or have no choice but to be stuck where I don’t belong to, with the people who don’t share the same energy and vision, the people who don’t grow or inspire me to grow.
He always told me the truth. At the end of his confession, he said, “If you just give me time, I’m going to come up with the money and buy you a ring. If I don’t marry you, who will I marry? I could spend the rest of my life with you. I’ll never stop loving you.”
Before you, I believed I was afraid of commitment. I tried online dating for a while, swiping into frustration and deleting my profiles after three days of connecting with guys and only occasionally talking. I went on dates that ended nowhere, which made me wonder if there was something wrong with me; if I had been so long without a meaningful connection with someone that I had very little capacity for it now.
I had always had a thing for power. But I didn’t care about being powerful myself. There was no fun for me being a powerful woman. What I wanted was to be the mastermind behind the power — the woman who has power over a powerful man. That got me off like nothing else whether I was in or out of bed with said man.
My lovers told me a lot of things — mostly things about myself that I didn’t realise I had or lacked thereof. Or things about themselves that I didn’t anticipate or could have anticipated but chose not to. Sometimes they were just passing comments that my lovers would very soon conveniently forget but somehow they got stuck at the back of my mind.
You double tap one photo, then two. You drop a friendly comment. A few minutes later, your phone screen lights up with a text message from him — Hey you! — as though you’re two good friends just catching up, no big deal.
I used to be in love with a hipster European boy. He was everything I wasn’t (and still am not). He rode bike to work and around the city.