The Tinder Ghost

For the past one month I had been communicating with a local lad I met on Tinder. We moved from messaging on the app, to WhatsApp texts, voice clips and phone calls. He was funny, smart, driven, loved dogs, and seemed to have a decent heart. I gradually found myself looking forward to hearing from him every day.

About three weeks into the friendship I told him that I was terrible at dating. For reasons unknown to me, my first dates would go on fabulously, the guys would promise to meet again or stay in touch...and then they never did. He asked me why this happened. I said I honestly didn't know. He then said I seemed to have a low self-esteem, to which I countered by saying that I respectfully disagree with him, and that while I do have high self-esteem, I also recognise my weaknesses.

After this revelation I noticed that the messages became shorter, while the voice clips and phone calls originating from him came to a stop. Still I thought it was because he was busy, and when I asked him about it he said the same. So even when a knot started to tighten in my belly I tried to push negative assumptions away.

All this while we had been discussing about meeting up in person. Finally the time and opportunity came up. I was flying in for a quick break from work and we thought that we should hang out. So he came over for an afternoon chat the first day I was in town, which was a Friday.

Yes, he was as funny in person as he was on my phone, but he seemed distant. He blamed it on his shyness. Nevertheless we made plans to have dinner on Sunday.

He had told me before that he would be attending a friend's wedding as one of the groomsmen on Saturday. So when he didn't text or call me that day or mentioned what time he would be picking me up for dinner on Sunday, I chalked it up to him being busy at the wedding and tried not to think too much of it .

Yet the knot in my belly grew tighter.

On Sunday, my calls and texts enquiring if dinner was still on and if yes, what time would it be, went unanswered. He even rejected my last call (it rang once and then abruptly ended) while the earlier one would just ring until it reached voicemail. Later during the day, I noticed that I no longer could see his profile photo on WhatsApp. 

Then I realised that he had blocked me on the messaging app, the very day we were supposed to go out.

I was at a friend's house when it became clear that dinner with the local lad was never going to happen. He had ghosted me. Despite my best efforts to make light of the situation I ended up crying when I told my friend everything. My friend then got up, brought out two glasses, and decided to pour us some wine because he didn't know what else to say other than "Screw him. Let's have a drink".

I then decided to delete Tinder and OKCupid from my phone, but not before I flag the local lad for bad offline behaviour. It was probably a petty move on my part, but hell hath no fury like a lass jilted. Afterwards I went shopping for little gifts for myself and some friends. Shopping is both my cardio and therapy, but it can only be dispensed in small doses since I don't have The Sims' money tree. 

Dinner with two lovely friends followed, where I proceeded to tell them of my Tinder ghost. Then they shared their Tinder experience, but theirs reached a sweet note: one has been dating her Tinder date for the last three months while the other, a guy friend, is still getting to know an amazing woman.

I must confess that although I wish my friends all the happiness in the world, it was challenging to smile at their Tinder luck right after my Tinder ghost had stood me up. Every time my eyes threatened to mist up in the restaurant, I quickly summoned happy thoughts and tried to focus on the moment: that at least during a difficult day I was surrounded by beloved friends who mean everything to me.

I wish I had known why the guy changed his mind and decided to distance himself from me after he met me. I wished I could kick him in the balls for being such a spineless coward. I also wished I had never met him, but what good does regretting do? All I can do is allow myself to feel like shit for one day, then get over it and move on with my life. 

So yes, this blog post is a pity party I am throwing for myself, and for every single girl out there who had been stood up by their dates without even the grace of a decent excuse, which is the least that we all deserve. 

He has already wasted a month of my life. He does not deserve more of my time. 

No more. 

I am done.

    

Armchair detective.

Bathroom singer.

Chef on the weekends.

Delusional daydreamer.

English and Malay writer for hire.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

What could have been my life:

1. Married at 20 before I even graduated to my university boyfriend and pregnant in the next month (because teenagers are horny). Ending up as a single mother in less than a year because he cheated on me with someone on campus.

2. Married at 24 to an abusive guy who absolutely refused to hold a job for longer than his breath and ending up being a cash cow for his clan.

3. Married at 28 to my best friend who was also a self-confessed polyamorist and living with racist in-laws who think I'm not worthy of their precious son because I'm from a different race. Oh, and probably will be divorced in a year as well when I catch him in bed with other women.

I don't like to relive the past but Marquis de Melancholia arrived unannounced and definitely uninvited recently, perhaps triggered by the fact that I am feeling a tad exhausted, physically and mentally lately. Waiter, a pitcher of margarita, pronto!

The sadist Marquis came to life when I recently squeezed a trip home in between work trips so I could spend some time with the fam. The first question that Grandma dearest asked me when I walked into the house was, "Did you bring anyone with you?".

-_____________-"

If all I ever wanted to achieve in life was marriage, I would have done it more than ten years ago (ok now you know exactly how old I am hahaha dammit).

But it wouldn't be right for me, not just because the men I dated in that period had questionable qualities, but also because I had some growing up to do.  

Even when I'm considerably grown up now (both mentally and physically..if I was a country singer you can call me Girth Brooks for my stubborn love handles), I still couldn't get married to a human being AND a job at the same time. 

However, I would consider marriage for purely legal reasons. Like getting a green card to Amurrica.

Ok just kidding.

There's more to life than taking a man's last name as yours.

Catch 32

Some time ago I decided that I probably would never have kids. Even before I made this decision I knew earlier on that if I ever wanted to have any offspring, it would be within a traditional family model: with two parents involved, because I don't think I can pull off single parenthood well. Since I am doing really well in the dating department (I honestly can't remember the last time I had a date and am actually relieved not to go through bad dates or be stood up on the first date any more), I probably will remain single and fabulous till I die. So I thought I'd cross off kids from the bucket list and move on with my life.

Till I gained a nephew, thanks to my brother. 

Now every time I visit my family, I try to spend every free moment babysitting the infant and then spamming every poor soul who's a close friend or colleague with photos of me holding him and grinning like an idiot. One of my colleagues even said he looks like me *beams proudly like an annoying auntie hahaha*

I'll be honest here: my nephew makes me long for motherhood. Maybe I've inhaled too much baby powder.

But I am in no position to raise a child at this moment, even if I do decide to adopt or go down the turkey baster route (eeeek). I am fully cognizant of the fact that I am neither financially nor mentally prepared to raise a child alone.

This dilemma over motherhood reminds me of a scene from Sex and the City's S06E15, aptly titled Catch 38, when Carrie (who was 38) said:

"....if I really wanted to have a baby, wouldn't I have tried to have one by now? I wanted to be a writer; I made myself a writer. I want a ridiculously extravagant pair of shoes; I find a way to buy them."

I don't exactly have a list of notable accomplishments like getting a PhD, discovering the cure to AIDS and saving orphans from a burning orphanage, but what I have achieved so far is pretty okay if I may say so myself. I wanted to be an educator, and I did that for a few years. I wanted to work for a global brand, and I did that with three brands. I wanted to be a copywriter in advertising, and I did that after getting rejected by so many ad agencies. Outside of work, I wanted to have a house with my name on the title, and I did that when I was 25.

My point is, if I really wanted something badly, I'd go all the way to get it.

So if I had really wanted a baby, wouldn't I already have one by now?

It's a Catch 32.

No Soulmate? Not a Problem!

Source

Fucking Fabulous

- A (fierce!) piece inspired by Valentine's Day -

Dear soulmate,

I have waited for you all my life. Maybe you don't exist, just like Santa (sorry, kids). Maybe you're bad at Google Maps and can't seem to find me. Maybe I should be sent to a loony bin for hallucinating writers.

I have been actively searching for you for the past 12 years, and my well-meaning friends have been actively telling me that this is the wrong thing to do. That I should just let "it" happen. In my case, "it" and "nothing" seem interchangeable. And with friends like these, who needs a.......I kid, I kid. I do love my friends (in case any of them are reading this).

Anyway, like everything else that I ever desired, I did my best to find you. I dated countless men, some who were downright terrible because at that time I didn't know any better about dating or even about myself. I've tried meeting men organically, bravely put up profiles on dating sites showing the thinner side of my face like Mariah Carey does (you're lovely, Mimi, but the jig is up). I even tried speed dating! By now I have enough dating experience under my faux leather belt that I could probably write a book about it and make plenty of simoleons ala JK Rowling.

More than a decade has passed since the first time I gave my heart to a man. I know myself better now. Unlike before, I know I am loveworthy, and that I will not tolerate bullshit from anyone. 

It has been 12 long years and you still haven't appeared in my life. And yet my life is pretty awesome now. I sincerely think that I am actually the luckiest girl alive. I have all that matters; a roof over my head, enough meals a day, a job that kicks ass, family and friends...Maslow would say that I have done a good job fulfilling all of my needs.

Speaking about needs, here's the thing: I don't need you. But I do want a great man to share a life with. My stupid sappy heart keeps believing that you exist, and that you are looking for me too, not because you need me, but because you want me in your life.

Sometimes you appear in my dreams, and though in them I could never see your face, but I feel loved by you. I could feel the warmth radiating from you as if it was real and not just a dream. My optimistic brain tells me that you are smart, kind, strong, and patient. Every molecule in my body believes that you exist.

So why aren't you here yet?

I've asked myself that question many times and I could never answer it. Some people in my life ask me that question too. After 12 years, I am running out of jokes to gently brush them off instead of pushing them off a cliff so that the sharks below can have a happy meal.

Maybe some things are meant to be mysteries. Maybe you don't exist and I am destined to be alone. Maybe for a millisecond I am just feeling a wee bit shitty about being single on that one awful day when the entire world seems hell bent on showing off that they have bloody soulmates.

Well screw them. Understand this: while it would be good for you to finally turn up, if you don't, I will be fine. In fact, I will be more than just fine. 

I will be fucking FABULOUS.

Single and (Dating) the City

Do you remember that scene from Interstellar, when Anne Hathaway had landed at a planet that was livable, but she's all alone?

I feel like that sometimes. Except that this livable planet I'm in is actually inhabited by other Homo sapiens. Overpopulated even.

I've been in this city for five months now. It also means that I've gone five months without dating. It's beginning to feel like a long-running comedy gag, with me occasionally joking to friends that if I make it to a year, I'd check into a nearby convent. Might as well be there since the possibility of finding dates there are nun. #pun #ohsoclever #lame

A friend once told me that dating is a numbers game. The higher your frequency of dating, the higher your chances of meeting someone who's right for you. The thing is, I can't even get a first date in this city!

I'll be honest; I am somewhat picky, but only sensibly so. I look forward to meeting intelligent, funny, and kind guys who can speak my first language fluently. When I told a local friend here about this, she told me, "You can't find any local guy here who can tick all those boxes". No wonder those who match highly with me on a dating website are all foreigners from Farawayville, whom I may also never meet. Yay!

In moments of weakness (especially on weekends when the entire city goes on dates except for me), I sometimes question my judgement in moving to the city of no available decent men. The other day, I jokingly told my colleague that the women in our office (where 90% of the staff are single females) are like Sumatran rhinos: seemingly no chance in hell to meet available men organically. 

Moving here hasn't been easy; though I have the best job in the world, outside of work I haven't found much to keep my plate full and interesting. I guess I'm missing the comforts of my old world. Or perhaps I haven't given this city a fair chance to show me what it has in store for me. 

Maybe I should just date the city, like Carrie Bradshaw.

I Choose Me

When I first started this blog, I was unsure about the tone of voice that I should write with. Should I be politically correct because this blog can be viewed by the public? Or should I write from the heart because this is, after all, MY blog?

It's a valid point that's ripe for an argument because how I behave online after office hours might reflect on who I am professionally. I know that there are companies that screen their candidates online. I do the same to most of my dates (which probably explains why I'm single, but that's a topic for another post).

If you have been reading this blog since the very beginning, you probably would notice how my earlier posts sounded a bit stilted and forced festive (to quote Stanford Blatch in the Sex and the City movie). I guess I was a bit heavy-handed with the Instgram treatment, mentally applying filters as I write because I wanted to please everyone who might be reading my blog.

It's a losing battle, trying to please your (imaginary) audience. Or anyone for the matter. So I decided to stop trying to be a people pleaser online. I decided to choose me :)

Of course there are topics that are off-limits, such as work. I also don't discuss yucky TMI stuff, as I think the Daily Mail and other salacious tabloids can do a better job at whetting your appetite if you're into that sort of thing. 

I've gradually been writing with a more open voice, and tonight I'd like to share some personal and embarrassing details. You might know them as dreams, goals, or affirmations. Whatever rocks your boat, baby.

Anyway, here goes:

As much as I love having a career (and I've been blessed to do so many things in such a short period), I do want to settle down one day. A husband, a home, maybe one or two kids, a white picket fence, and a job that allows me to work from home.

Here's the thing though. I've seen friends go through divorce, and that honestly scares the shit out of me. As for kids, I get agitated when I'm trapped in a confined space (like a late-night movie or a red eye flight) with a screaming, spoiled child. My friend Sue recently had a full moon party for her two-month old baby and I was terrified when she asked me to hold him, even when it was only for a few seconds so she could snap a photo of us together. Her son was very calm but I was so scared that I might accidentally drop him.

I am also not dating anyone at the moment. There was someone special for the last two months, but like many others before him, it turned out that he just wanted to be friends.

Friends. That..that word is the bane of every single girl's existence, especially if it comes out of a man they're crazy about. Short of strapping the poor man to a chair and holding a gun to his head to force a fake declaration of affection, there really wasn't anything that I could do to change his mind. 

I honestly couldn't breathe when he dropped the bomb. But as difficult as it is (I'm not made of cold marble, I do have feelings), I think the best thing to do is to quit him cold turkey until I can calmly communicate with him without silently fighting the urge to weep. This could take a thousand years so don't hold your breath.

Okay enough about the faux break-up. Let's move on.

When it comes to having a permanent home, you're looking at someone who moved six times in the past five years. I also spent nine years, from age 13 to 22, away from my family. First it was the five-year boarding school, then college for a year, followed by three years of uni. Home became a postal address I only use whenever I'm required to have snail mail sent to me.

These days whenever someone says the word home to me, my mind conjures an image of my rented apartment in PJ that I really loved. After renting a room for years, I finally decided to live alone and be the lady of my manor in the sky. The apartment was poorly maintained (my block usually had only one elevator working) and located in a ghetto with drug dealers and prostitutes walking freely, but it was the only apartment that I could afford in PJ. I hated the neighbourhood but I somehow managed to mentally block whatever's outside as soon as I step into my unit. My balcony overlooked the hill and on some days I didn't even have to turn on the fan because it was really breezy living on the 21st floor. 

I no longer have a home when I left for Sabah. It was one of the things that hit me the hardest: feeling displaced and away from everything that was familiar. I'm feeling better now, but I do miss home from time to time.

Here in Sabah I work literally just metres away from the coastline, which is one of my lifelong dreams (but in my head it was the Penang coastline instead of Sabah's, to be honest). I am renting a master room in a quiet neighbourhood just 5 kilometres away from my office. There are friends here who steal me for lunch, dinner and beach walks. I also discovered lovely eateries here that cater to a wide spectrum of cravings, from the world's best pumpkin soup in Sailor's Cafe to affordable range of Western dishes at Upperstar.

So what now?

I'm slowly going back into running, starting with brisk walks. I recently went to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital for a way over-due knee check-up. The doctor ruled out running for now, and recommended swimming and brisk walking. He actually laughed when Cher and I said we wanted to try Muay Thai, which was the main reason why I needed that check-up, as Muay Thai is pretty hard on your knees.

Last weekend I joined a 5 kilometre Fit Malaysia run. The run was poorly organised (think huge crowd and two bicycle lanes as our running track) but I managed to clock 12 minutes as my average lap time despite walking most of the time. My best lap time ever since I took up running was 10 minutes, which is not that fast because most fit runners can probably finish 5 kilometres in half an hour. But I'm happy with going back to 10 for now. 

I've also recently discovered yoga, from where else but YouTube. It's a great stress reliever because the poses stretch my tired limbs and also helps me to focus on my breathing. Let's hope I can keep it up as the poses might get more difficult as I progress.

It's 11 pm right now, which feels similar to 1 am in PJ. The sun is up around 6 am and full-force daylight greets you with a vengeance before 6.30 am. By 7 pm I would be dreaming of my bed because I have to wake up at daylight in order to catch the 7 am bus to work.

Will I ever settle down, get married, have kids and nest in a home with a white picket fence? Honestly, I don't know. The dating pool shrinks as years go by while strands of white hair keep announcing their presence to all and sundry. Marriage seems to be an epidemic amongst my peers but somehow it manages to skip me.

All I know is this: whatever happens, I choose to be happy :)

I choose me.

Good night!

The Geek Goddess

The Lost Boys: A Dating Epidemic

Achtung: This post contains strong vocabulary and should be read with a huge glass of scotch.

I guess it's normal to have expectations when it comes to dating. I do expect my dates to have manners, and also the ability to spell properly. Haha.

I also expect someone who claims that they're interested in me to keep maintaining contact. You know, to show that they're still interested to get to know me more. 

See, I never knew how to play dating games that women supposedly play to keep men interested. If I like you, I will try to contact you, and I will try to know you more. That's my only dating M.O.

I have been in the dating scene for the past 11 bloody long years, and it seems to me that there were a lot of guys who claimed to like me, conversed with me regularly, went out with me a few times, then texted or called me semi-daily...

ONLY FOR THEM TO GO *POOF* ONE DAY AND NEVER EVER RETURN!

Or...they are alive but they gave me so many excuses on why they're not regularly contacting me like before:

- My cat died.

- My car died.

- I am busy these days. *I guess we women have all the time in the world, eh?*

- I am overwhelmed by work/family/my stupid team's performance in the World Cup.

Is there a dating black hole for men that we women are not aware of? That maybe there is a secret button on their phone that they accidentally press and their phone screen would swallow them whole and incapacitate them from contacting us further? 

I am very curious to find out why men seemed to drop off the face of the earth after making a lot of effort to imprint their existence in our female brains. I know I am not the only woman to whom this weird disappearing act happens regularly. One of my super nice guy friends said that his female friends also complained about the same thing.

Are the lost boys an epidemic for which there is no known cure?

I guess what I'm trying to say is: if you're not interested in someone, please don't waste their time by contacting them. Ever. Grow some balls and spare us the heartache, thankyouverymuch.  

Because of this mysterious epidemic, I am getting really sick of dating. Sometimes I feel like checking into a convent, swearing men off forever and develop the habit of looking great in a *cough* habit. Teehee.

My *ahem* pragmatic brain always seems to think, "Look, you did your best, but let's face it, this dating shit is not working out for you". My ever-optimistic heart however, begs a different interpretation: "Hey, not all men are bad. There's someone out there for you. You just haven't found him yet". 

I have been searching for him for 11 years, for fuckitty fuck's sake. Where the hell is he? Is his sense of direction so poor to the point of being ridiculous? 

I went through 11 years of disastrous dating attempts and four relationships that went south, yet my stupid heart still wants someone who complements me to grow old with and to raise a family with. Despite my strong objections against having unruly children in public spaces (hello screaming toddlers in a cinema showing a late-night horror movie), I do want to have (well-mannered) children one day. And I know I don't want to be a single parent.  

But as I get older, I have less tolerance for this bullshit called dating. Whenever men give me excuses like "Oh I'm so busy picking up my dog's poo, so I'll text you in another century", all I can hear is this: You're not worth my time, bitch.

Time is a limited resource, gentlemen. If you like me, make it worth my time. And if you don't like me, it's ok to be upfront about it and save both of us a lot of grief instead of playing stupid hide-and-seek. I'm a grown woman. I can handle rejection. *flips hair and roars* 

What I cannot handle are stupid boys who waste my time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to running my one-woman empire.

The Geek Goddess

To Love At All Is To Be Vulnerable

source

For the past few months or so, I've been having my heart slowly broken over misaligned expectations. Today, after much contemplation, I've decided to finally put a stop to it. I won't go into the details though, because there are always two sides to a story, and it would be delusional to think that I can write about them without a grain of bias.

We enter a new relationship with hopes and dreams and sometimes emotional baggage. We're willing to be vulnerable, to wear our hearts and dreams on emotional placards for all to see, in order to let someone new into our lives, and eventually, into our hearts, hoping that they won't get turned off by our lifelong collection of quirks and die-hard habits.

Like everything I've ever wanted in life, I gave this my best shot. I offered to travel to see him, I cleared my schedule whenever he's in town, and I looked forward to promised calls and texts, never letting my phone out of my sight during the appointed hour. I offered my ears and shoulders in good times and bad times, always rooting for him to be triumphant in all his personal battles. I humbly and sincerely apologised whenever I erred, and every day I worked to be a better person because he, along with every beloved person I have in my life, deserved the best version of me.

I did the best I could, even when there were signs that this was never meant to be.

I had naively hoped that this time, after so many failed relationships, countless bad dates, lengthy late night calls to girlfriends, and rolls of damp tissues, that perhaps, he could finally be the one I would spend the rest of my life with. My parents have been married for the past 34 years, anchoring each other whenever the waves of this sea called Life threaten to drown one of them. I wanted the same thing for myself, for us. 

You can find many online "manuals" on how to deal with heartbreak, but trust me when I say, all the tips in the world won't make it hurt less. You can re-decorate your home, get a new haircut, maybe even take a trip around the world alone, hoping fervently that these distractions can drown the memories you created together. But I know I'll think of him, with a dull ache in my heart, whenever I pass by the places we visited together, whenever I indulge in his favourite dishes, and whenever someone wearing a similar scent to his walks past me.

But one day, this too shall pass, and I'll be ready to be vulnerable again.

Geek Goddess

Try A Little Tinder-ness

I lived alone when I first came to Red Henna City in 2009. It was a lonely time for me. Almost all of my colleagues were based outside the city, and my only company during night time at the staff quarters were stray cats. 

Nice to play with, but not much contribution in terms of quality conversations.

I was weeks away from becoming a bonafide crazy cat lady when Mrs. Plain Jane, similarly single at that time, jokingly suggested that I join an online dating site. Through such sites, I have met plenty of men, just virtually if they live gazillion miles away, or outside for movie and dinner dates if they live nearby. Some of the good men became my friends until this very day. There were also not-so-nice men, but the worst of the lot were those with fake profiles and really bad grammar.

Four years of on-and-off dating profiles in various sites have passed, and in line with embracing technology, I have decided to try a popular dating app on my Samsung SII Mini:

Tinder

There are many articles on Tinder that you can find online:

• Buzzfeed has one on the how-tos of Tinderland. 
• Mashable has a simple guide on how to score dates.
• This one contains a glossary of useful Tinder terms.

This dummy-proof matchmaking app requires minimal use of your motor skills (swipe left if the profile is bleh, swipe right if you want to contact the hottie) and maximum superficiality. 

I've only been there a week but this video below probably best describes what the experience felt like:

The good thing about Tinder is that you will only get to contact your matches, so your chances of being bombarded by messages from people you have no yen for are super low. There are also so many ridiculously good-looking men on the app. 

The bad thing is, you might not get many matches (or any matches at all) if you or your photos are unflattering. 

I should mention that I am not pretty by conventional or advertising-industry standards. I am a plus-size woman, who wears glasses, a bright smile and a loud personality. I also have jiggly bits that are heading towards Australia as we speak. *curses gravity and fried dinners*

Despite all that, I did upload a few flattering photos of myself in my profile and they show me doing the things that I love: being goofy, having a drink with friends, and going on photography escapades. 

In case you're wondering how well (or how bad) I am doing on Tinder so far, here are my stats as of today:

Number of matches: 

FIVE

Number of matches who responded to my texts: 

TWO

Number of matches who blocked me after realising that they've swiped me to the right by mistake: 

ONE

Number of matches who responded and tentatively agreed to meet up for coffee, only to disappear from my list of matches one day before: 

ONE (DOUCHEBAG) 


Would I recommend the app to anyone? 

• Yes, if you're a tall and leggy chick looking forward to dates with uber-hot males.
• Yes, if you look like me but still want to drool over some sizzling eye-candy.
• No, if you're looking for meaningful connections with real people who know there is more than meets the eye. 

If you're keen to take the minefield app for a test drive, you can download it for free from your Apple App Store or Google Play. 

As for me, I think I prefer date nights with my celluloid boyfriend. 

Yum.

The Geek Goddess

P/S: All pics sourced from Google. Duh.