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Posts Tagged ‘friendships’

“If I were you, I would let him go. You’re better off finding someone who will adore and cherish you.” I read what Mandy wrote in her email to me again, keep repeating the same line, trying to get the message across. “What is the worst anyway? You will be single, you have been there before, and that wasn’t that bad, was it? It is ridiculous really, why it is such a big need we human have, to have someone to love and to feel liked and admired by others. You, for goodness, try to manage yourself and see yourself as “single woman” and seek a life that express that identity. Start by figuring out what is it that you love – truly love about yourself, then, my dearest, I have known you for years now; you will start to shine again.” Jane’s shooting voice is still ringing in my ears.

“Look. I still belief in what I have told you so many times before,” May cuts me in my mid-sentence while trying to pour my heart out again. “You can’t close yourself up, make friends, make new friends, go out, have fun, you can’t be putting all your eggs in one basket, date others, keep them around like an assortment of goodies, so to speak. A is good for when you need someone to go for a movie with. B is good for hunting for yummy foods at any new culinary delight corner of Jakarta. C is good for when you need that serious profound deep conversational partner. D is good for fixing your laptop. E is good for a bodyguard to attend weddings with and so on. You don’t have to be involved with a devotion of a heart and soul, have fun, keep it light. Do your weeding as you go along. If they decide to stay, throw them some bones, you yourself, do not have to decide on anything that you don’t want. If they come and go, you don’t actually care much, do you? I know you think that you love the guy, I know your one track mind, but being miserable and yet still think that you are in love and loved, is kind of nonsense, am I right?”

“You are strong,” May continues her paternalistic best friend lecture; I know she mean well, but she can drive me to slap her sometimes, not that I ever would do such a thing though, “I know you are. But since that Uni days of ours, you have changed and I am worry about you. You used to be so sure about yourself, why are you questioning everything now, why are you questioning YOU?”

“What a bastard!” grimaced Linda, 4 years younger than me, she is nothing like me in personality, but in anger, we are indeed showing the same family trait, “I feel like punching him on the face! Such a coward!” Angel, my other sister, she is 16 years younger than me, put her arm around my shoulder protectively, “Don’t worry too much, sis. Cry if you want. I got this!” pulling a brightly coloured candy stick from her huge cluttered bag and wave it around like a magic wand. I burst out laughing with tears still trickling down my cheek. Linda, uploaded to Facebook, captured the moment on mobile cam timely enough.

These are my support system, my circle of friends, mentors, and lifesavers. These people know me. These are the people that willing to share my life and I am theirs. I am thankful, for each and every one of them. These are the people that come and stay. In my life, they have never said, “Bye now, it’s time for us to say farewell.” With them, the road is never end.  These are the people that never let go of my hand.

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Saturday, me and June, we meet up and talk nostalgically, she was my primary school mate, long gone recently found on Facebook. We start with a scrumptious 10AM breakfast, tasting one dish after another from the nicely and splendidly spread buffet. Pampering ourselves with fresh squeeze orange juice, warm waffles, scramble eggs, poached sausages, home-made yoghurt and the list goes on. A long chat over breakfast slash brunch and a shower later, leisurely, we cruises down to the mall, manicure and pedicure session for her, while I happily locating myself in one of the cafés, sipping coffee, blowing smoke rings, reading my book, glancing once in a while to watch the people and the world go by.

It’s Sunday, 8pm on the dot.

“Go ahead and order. Forget about the calorie, they are absolutely yummo!” June smiles at me devil-ish. I scan the menu from front to back and back to front, concentrating as if the smiley waitress will give me a pop-quiz on it in the next 10 minutes. While actually, I have my tummy-eye one-track-mind set on the BBQ baby back ribs glazed with house specialty sauce – healthy salad, healthy salad, healthy salad chanting my brain happily while my eyes following the turn of the pages and I, of course, happily ignoring the chant.

“I think you should come back in a bit, miss,” addressing the waitress with her twinkle eyes, “I need to brainwash her. Could you please bring us our drinks first?” June kicks my leg from across the table in a playful manner like we were still two kids with pigtails, “Come on, I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Stop thinking, as agreed this is our meat night, so go on order, you are surely not going to order rabbit food after nagging me to take you here!”

“Who nag you?” Sticking my tongue to her, “You basically convince me this is the best place for ribs.”

“And you, girl, as I recall doesn’t take much need for any convincing act in my part, I just open my mouth and mentioned ribs and yummo, you’re hooked, yeehaaw!”

“Yeehaaw! Hehehehehe Do you know, that 30 minutes on treadmill will only amount to 138 calories? I don’t want to even think how many calories these ribs have” grinning stupidly and rolling my eyes at her, “Yeah, yeah, yeah rib then. Call back the waitress.”

“See, less than 5 second such a convincing effort to get you on board!”

I look around the room, while she waives at the waitress. Not really a packed place on a Sunday night, the irony of an Irish resto in Medan. The place is dimly lit, romantic candle light flickering from each table surrounding an impressively stocked bar at the far end of the room. Wooden furniture matching the wooden wall, projecting a cosy atmosphere, sending signs that lingering is an ok thing to do here. My gaze slowly trail the people in front of me without really registering their features, just immersing the vibe while my mind wonder in and out then finally my eyes rest on my mobile phone. No text. He is probably asleep by now. Caught myself back in time – I return my gaze back to June.

“This place used to be packed; a few months ago we need to call in for reservation. But since the airport security has a one-way street policy up the road leading to this place after 8pm, people sort of abandoning it as THE hang out place. But trust me; the food here is worth it.”

“Yeah, I guess, with so many hang out places to choose from, people prefer going to somewhere which has both good food and strategic location.”

“He didn’t text, eh?” Suddenly she asks, I just look at her and flash her one of my indifference smiles.

“Oh, tell me again, how did you end up with 5 kids, eh?”

I considered myself a master of instant diversion to a next topic, when the subject of my potato pops. Don’t get me wrong, he is almost constantly on my mind, no matter what I do, but when people ask me about him, I tend to give them short answers as deep down, the real problem is: I don’t know. I don’t know whether there is a real future ahead consisting of me and him building a life together. I’m afraid to dream, I can dream alone, safely in my own thought, but saying out loud and expressing that dream in verbal description for others to hear, that I can’t. As if I might break some kind of jinx – people might feel sorry for me when it all turned out to be a flop. I dream, but I dream alone inside my head.

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