A disillusioned friend shared this provocative thought the other night

Feelings of love is primary to a woman looking for a relationship
only when she is below the age of 20.
For women above 20, it is everything but.

Naturally, some would think that women grow materialistic as they age.
I would think it is unfair to think of materialism as a cause in itself and blame women for it.

At sixteen,
rampaging hormones and the belief that we're young and infallible reign supreme.
Those are the innocent times when we still believe in fairytales,
where the stories that mothers tell are still fresh in our minds.
That as long as we're good, we'd meet our prince charming
the one deserving guy we'd fall deeply in love with and live happily ever after.

So we search for said prince with all the idealism and hope bubbling in us.
Excitement and the tiggles just spill over and there we have it,
our first impressions of love.

The emotion we all searched for when we're naive as a pig at sixteen.

Over the years, as we've shed our fair share of tears,
seen our fair share of broken hears,
we'd realised that,
that feeling we've been looking for,
really isn't that great afterall.

It doesn't last,
it doesn't make up for anything.
Was it really that good to warrant all these sacrifices?
Was it worth all that pain and tears?

So over time,
women grow.
We studied, we worked.
And with that comes money, and with money,
liberty.

That power to do almost everything our hearts desire.
That power to be that dependent source to shower ourself with all the things we deserve.

Women would begin to realise that there are some things in life that are truly rewarding.
Where the amount of efforts put in would result in an equivalent harvest at the end of the day.

We learn to love ourselves and not expect that elusive emotion to be showered on us.

Until gradually,
we become so comfortable taking care of ourselves that we just can't let anyone else in anymore.
Until loving someone else other than ourselves become such an unfamiliar emotion,
it's almost like a stranger.
A stranger that we used to know,
that we're now afraid off,
that we're not sure if we want to, or if we're capable of embracing anymore.

With age, we'd realise that really, nothing lasts forever.
Priorities change, and love,
is better experienced as a recipient than a giver.

So then my friend,
if we can't be sure of how long the person's love would last,
why shouldn't we choose the one who could give us the kind of love which is of a better quality?

The kind of relationship that is more suitable for the lifestyle
we've worked so hard to build for ourselves?

If emotions and feelings will eventually fade,
why shouldn't we base our evaluation on more practical aspects instead?

And if we unexpectedly got more than that,
Then that's a bonus.

A friend commented a few days ago that she hates it that I "heeheehaha" away in front of people
and then go home and talk to myself aka blog my true feelings.

Am I doing this again?

Well....
I think I express myself better in writing than in words.

Penning stuff down clears my thoughts and brings my views across better.
And sometimes,
it is the silence of the night that inspires the thoughts.

I wouldn't want to impose the boredom of my sad life on friends too,
especially when it's so rare to meet up.
Spoiling the mood of gatherings with my gripes about work is the last thing I want to happen.

But aside from all that,
I think the main reason is that
seeing honest people at the end of a long week of facing hypocrites is such a cherished,
long forgotten experience that,

it just simply makes me profoundly happy.

I don't know if you guys knoe it, and it's useless if you don't!!!

I guess what I'm trying to say is,
despite the impression of distance I give to alot of you,
you all mean something to me.

So dear friends,
please know that I cherish you.

Every single one of you.

No matter if I knew you from
NYJC, ZHSS, SIM, KTV sessions, *Hub, shake leg make merry sessions, the worst local bank, or the 3rd August 2007 chalet, etc etc.

If I'm still meeting you,
I cherish you.

Yes, it's as simple as that.

Last night while I was on my way home,
there was a couple two steps ahead of me on the escalator.

The boyfriend smiled adoringly at the girlfriend while she spoke.
When she turned away and looked ahead,
the boyfriend started digging his nose.

And oh my god.
He wasn't just discreetly swiping away,
he stuffed his whole pointer finger in and dug AROUND.
And yes I do mean AROUND because he dug till he has to distort his FACE.

The girlfriend said something and he paused to listen, bending his head to her.
She finished, he smiled.

And they both turned to look ahead.
Then, in a very familiar gesture, he absently ran his hand through her hair.

Yes, that same hand that was FROLICKING in his nostrils just moments ago
was RUNNING THROUGH HER HAIR.

I pray to heavens that galpal never dug her nose before running her hand through my hair.....