Friday night out with the Pilot Neighbour ("P") went well, or disastrously, depending on how one looks at it. As of now, I am undecided.
There are probably hundreds of dating books out there advocating that girls should hold out on the first date. Not even a kiss on the lips is to be allowed. Unfortunately, I flouted that rule.
But I am fine and well, emotionally insulated by the continuous tango with the Perfect Ex. While I was content to not hear from him ever again since things went so wrong by my standards, P surprised me in many ways, from the nice big breakfast he toiled over on the morning after, to his somewhat cheesy text on how the sunset yesterday was "very romantic", to asking if I am up for Cambodia over my upcoming birthday weekend. Whatever it is, whatever his intentions, that would be the most concrete thing anyone has said re my insignificant little birthday thus far, which is really kind of... nice.
Perhaps there really aren't any rules to the game.
In other news, Jess and I went to Shenzhen on Sunday for makan and massage, which is leaving us both a little ill for wear. Instead of being relaxed like we rightly should have been, we're in pain. The Korean BBQ we had later last night with The Wah Lau Guy (our latest Singaporean ah beng brudder) gave me today's sore throat and fever.
Alas, today is not the day to be sick, for I have to rush a piece of advice. Plus I am meeting P for lunch. Plus it is not advisable to pull too many sickies, so as to avoid suspicion on that very fine day on which I shall skip work to wakeboard!
Not gonna be nominated for sainthood anytime soon, that's for sure.
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