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44 reasons why I love my fiance


I asked my fiancé what present he wanted for his 44th birthday present. He couldn’t think of any. So we kinda make a discussion if I can find the list of 44 things about him. Let’s do it now!

Below is the 44 reasons why I love him (in random order) :
1. He has the loveliest green eyes
2. He is a genius
3. He knows the history of indonesia so well
4. He sucks at lying and ends up making fake excuses and lame names such as United Clean Sand organization
5. He’s funny – 3 stooges funny
6. He has a sexy morning voice when answering my daily wake up call
7. He sings rawhide much better and funnier than one in Blues brother
8. He has a pepsodent smile
9. He sends me flowers
10. He bought me an Ipod for no reason
11. He works really hard to make me happy
12. He likes dogs
13. He likes mountain climbing and hiking
14. He doesn’t mind that I don’t dive
15. He bought me a camera for my birthday
16. He has so many shoes
17. He tells great story
18. He doesn’t mind having more than one wedding reception
19. He likes to wake up late so I can have my morning yoga session undisturbed during holiday
20. He bought me a new ipod after the first one is broken
21. He jumps off the plane – parachuting
22. He creates a rhyming nicknames for me
23. He made the first approach
24. He stands by me
25. He always calls our immigration lawyer right after his payday
26. He doesn’t realize that I snore
27. He’s a great kisser
28. He gets along well with parents
29. He thinks all my pictures are cute and my songs are pretty. I think he’s lying but I love him for trying
30. He’s a great analyst
31. He’s a great athlete
32. He bought me a nicer camera after my boss ruined the first one
33. He encourages me to try new things
34. He’s so patient
35. His idea of being pampered is me plucking out his facial hair
36. He prays every night for me
37. He always gives me clues that I should have a cooler gadget (iPad, kindle) although I’m not a gadget freak
38. He appreciates classier things in life (yes, classier means expensive)
39. He’s a generous guy
40. He says thanks to strangers
41. He’s open to new ideas
42. He likes to give me pop quiz about him
43. He trusts me blindly
44. He loves me -an uptown girl- just the way I am

Happy birthday baby bear! Mwah

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Posted by on December 28, 2011 in Dating & its nitty gritty, List of things

 

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Snail Mail and us


Hm, I really can’t remember when was the last time I received a hand-written letter via snail mail and I can’t remember when the last time I sent one was.

But I remember the last postcard I received. It was just days before Christmas last year and it has a picturesque view of Volcan de Fuego of Guetamala on it. That postcard took almost 2 months to arrive. The sender – my fiancé- had been already back home when I got it.

Postcard from Guatemala

I also remember the last postcard I sent out to my fiancé. I sent it a few weeks back from a pretty busy post office in Singapore. The postcard has a picture of some Buddhist temple at the Chinatown on it. I wrote “In Singapore on this weekend” on the top of my usual “wish you were here, Baby” there. I didn’t seal that postcard with a kiss though. It would’ve looked so weird in front of those post office people if I’ve done that.

Yes, we’re one of the rare couples who still send snail mail to each other.

You see, there are thousands of miles separating us and we live by the Long Distance Relationship golden rule: Communication is the grand-daddy of any relationship. So we talk on the phone a lot when we’re at home (by ‘home’, I mean he’s there at his and I’m at mine), text a lot (thanks to the nerds who invent BlackBerry Messenger), send postcards when we’re travelling and send mushy Hallmark greeting cards celebrating our important days.

Sending postcards is not popular these days. More than once, I’ve gotten this strange look from my friends who happen to be with me in a bookstore overseas. “Postcard, really? Why don’t you just send emails from that smart phone of yours?” is a question I’ve heard too many times. And believe it or not, unlike bookstores here, not every bookstore sells postcards in most Asian countries. I have to spend some good time browsing for places that sell them. I usually have to go to those tiny book stores at the train station or at the airports.

Last October when I was in Bali, I was too busy taking pictures to send him a postcard. I sent him by email my photo of picturesque view of Balinese paddy field and wrote that I took great photos that day. He seemed to be okay with it and I thought I had found a perfect way to still send him “postcards” online.
But then came December, a postman hand-delivered my fiancé’s postcard from Guatemala to my office. Oh, to hold that piece of postcard that was once carefully picked out, carefully written, and lovingly sent by my fiancé I made a promise to myself to always send him snail mail when I was away.

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Posted by on April 12, 2011 in Dating & its nitty gritty

 

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My first month anniversary


The date : March 16, 1997.

The time : 10-11 PM

Phone booths
That guy was my first boyfriend and we were supposed to celebrate our first month anniversary. For a 16 year old girl, dating a same guy for a whole month is a BIG deal.

The plan was to watch the midnight show of Baz Luhrman’s Romeo and Juliet (I didn’t have any curfew. I was a lucky 16 year old gal).

“I’ll pick you up at around 10.45 PM”, he said.

And I waited outside the gate since 10.40 PM.
I remember the mosquitoes.
I remember people walking by staring at me.
I remember he was saying that he’d pick me up at around 10.45 to watch the 11.50 PM film.

I waited outside until 11.35 PM.
I remember walking slowly from outside the gate to the phone booth.
I remember wishing if only I had a cell phone and iff only he had a cell phone.

He didn’t come that night

He came at 6 AM the following morning with a good story. Lost his car key and all.

But that night was definitely the worst date ever.

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Posted by on March 29, 2011 in Dating & its nitty gritty

 

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where’s my bouquet?


Roses are pink my love

It’s a week after Valentine’s day.
Check out whatever happens to your bouquet your husband/fiancé/boyfriend/lover gave you.
Have the red roses turned to withered maroon? The white roses turned to a sick yellowish ones and you plan to throw them away tomorrow? Or are you the ones who really takes care of the bouquet that it can last until 10 days maybe more and then you’ll sophisticatedly dry them?

Unlike my siblings who are really into gardening who can have fresh flowers every day for their house, I only love flowers when it comes to receiving a bouquet. Whether it’s from my fiancé who sends me flowers on birthday and Valentine’s day or from my co-worker who tries to say he’s sorry or from my boss who gives me a bouquet just because, I will instantly feel like I’m floating on air. When I receive this bouquet, I put water inside the crystal vase and put it in my bedroom. On tables where I can see them instantly once I open my eyes in the morning. It will be dried naturally inside the vase too. It’s a nice decoration for my bedroom, these naturally dried flowers. I keep them right there until I get new bouquet that will require the space of that crystal vase.

Why does a bouquet of flowers (may it be roses, carnations, lilies, or daisies) always instantly boosts my mood? I don’t know if there is a chemical or scientific explanation on that (like endorphin release when one eats chocolate), but I think receiving flowers makes me feel that I’m being appreciated.
Knowing that there’s a man who does a little extra mile to remember me, take a little time to choose the bouquet and have it delivered to me,
Knowing that there’s a man who says sorry for being too busy and suddenly remembers that I love certain flowers,
Knowing that there’s a man who though miles away is missing me heaps
For me receiving flowers is a major display affection from someone in a very subtle way.

And believe me, it’s not only me. No matter how cold a woman is, she’ll love receiving flowers.
So, you lads, if you haven’t given her flowers last week for Valentine’s day, today is a great day to do that..
“Happy a week after Valentine’s day, love” will do.

 
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Posted by on February 21, 2011 in Dating & its nitty gritty

 

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Come back you


You should imagine that my eyes are squinted and I’m cursing you under my breath.
I keep hearing your voice and your roars of laughter but you’re just not around.
I smell your Old Spice after shave smell in my coffee.
I even see your face in my laptop screen.

I went to places where I always bump into you.
I bought books I don’t read in that bookstore.
Drinks I don’t drink in that café.
Films I don’t watch in that cinema.
Music I don’t usually listen to at that blues club.
Languages I don’t speak at that culture club.
While I was just sat there waiting for you.

You should know by know that my mind is not working without you
I can’t finish my story.
I can’t write any poem.
I can’t even read a book.

I can’t hum that melody in the shower.
I can’t sing along to that Ella Fitzgerald song.
I can’t even decide what CD I should put on for my ride home.

You should know by now that I want you to come back here.
To return my head and my ability to decide.
To return my vocal cord
To return my soul
And to become my muse.
Please. You’re so good at being one

 
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Posted by on January 12, 2011 in Dailies

 

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Shoes and socks: Foot fetish or Arrogant?


My mom doesn’t like men in white pants.
What she hates worse than men in white pants are men in white pants wearing white shoes.
You want to know the worst? A man in white pants and white shoes with black socks. That sight would cause sore-eye for her.

My dad once shot me a look after seeing a guy I dated came to pick me up wearing a blue shirt with khaki pants and black shoes.
He glanced at him, shook his head slowly and eye-ing me in disbelief silently asking “How on earth can you date a color-blind guy?”
The following day he really asked me, “Did you see what your boyfriend was wearing last night? Blue shirt, khaki pants, black shoes? Khaki pants with black shoes” I shrugged and mumbled something about not really into details. He then said his cynical remark in his signature tone “Lho kok bisa begitu?”

Who are these people, you might wonder?
My mom’s shoes collection is twice as many as Imelda Marcos’ and my dad (despite his laid-back appearance) had every possible color of shoes and sandals (he used to have a mustard-colored Bally shoes which he wore with a khaki Bermuda for outdoor activity).
They make sure that our feet are clean; the school shoes are polished (to the maximum shine possible) and your party shoes should be dressy and match the color of your dress or suit or purse.

 

Coming from a family who really has a strong opinion (read : strong value) about colors and especially the color of foot-wear, we find ourselves as annoying as them when it comes to foot-wear.
One of my sisters kept wiping a wet tissue in her baby’s feet.
The other never wears the same shoes in 2 days in a row.
Another one likes to wear shoes with her name on the sole.
One of the brothers (like dad) has a collection of bold color sneakers (I love the Ferrari red he bought during an F1 grand prix!)

Me? Not as crazy as them, but of course you should be the judge.
There’s a reason why I don’t like watching Michael Jackson’s video clips and I’m called socks police.
Michael Jackson. What’s wrong with that guy? He had all the money in the world and he couldn’t buy a pair of black socks for his black suits? And the legendary white socks are like a loose socks. Eeewww.
Socks police? I remember the first couple of months I work in this company. I remember vividly about my boss’s socks. Everything about his socks was wrong. A pair of white Adidas socks might suit Nike running shoes, but for the love of good shoes, he wears that socks also for shoes for work (which is NOT a running shoes). I remember opening his light suitcase before he went out travelling and find lots of white socks without any running shoes. I shook my head in disbelief. I don’t remember if I bought him socks (in various colors) afterward, but lately I find him wearing socks that match his pants (olive, khaki, grey, charcoal, black). Maybe it’s his way of saying that he agrees on my opinion. Or he just doesn’t want to start an endless argument with the socks police.

Not like my sister, I don’t really bring my own shoes design to the shoemakers. That’s too much of hassles.
I just buy shoes in a country where small people with small size shoes are common. Unfortunately it’s not in my own country. If it is, my collection would be as many as Imelda Marcos.
My small foot size is the reason why I can’t wear different shoes everyday according to the dress I’m wearing. I’m upset thinking about that and it happens lots of times. When I can’t help it, I buy the shoes (2 size bigger) with silly excuses like “People won’t notice” or “If it doesn’t fit, I’ll just give it to my niece”
Silly really, because I would just end up wearing that shoes to some function, got tripped, and get more upset.

But what upsets me more than just got tripped was this morning in Starbucks.
I was waiting for my hazelnut latte when I saw a guy sitting alone having breakfast. It was early. Hardly 8 AM. He stretched on his seat and I found it an interesting view to look at. He caught me looking at him while he stretched so he smiled. Nice smile. He was wearing a white on white striped shirt and a dark pants. Nice ensemble. I felt my smile left my face when I saw the light brown pointed shoes. And the socks? A black and white striped cotton socks. That guy (and whoever prepared the socks) should be thrown in jail. I stared at them disgustedly, turned my back on him, and speed dialed my boyfriend.

You see, foot-wear wise, my boyfriend is perfect!
I was packing for our 3 days vacation to an island a few months back. I asked him if I should bring 3 or 4 pair of footwear. 1 high heel for the casual look, 1 Crocs flat for the stroll, 1 nice flip-flop and a pair of party shoes (just in case he’s taking me to a nice bar). I was thinking of leaving the last pair when he said that I should take them all. He had no complains whatsoever and started to pack his own things.
I was unpacking our things in the hotel room when I found that he ALSO brought 4 pair of shoes for the holiday : his everyday boots, his sandals, his running shoes, and his party shoes (“you know baby, just in case we’re going to a nice bar”).
This guy would fit in perfectly in to our family! I’m pretty sure my dad had checked his shoes collection before he asked the cupid to set us up.

I was once in a party and found that all the guests are my friends, someone I knew for quite some times, and we all dressed up nicely.
By “dressed up nicely”, I mean the shoes match to the suits and dress (or for the ladies to their purses).
I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been choosing people to be my friends by looking at their feet, how they treat their feet and their shoes.
Can I miss being friends with someone wonderful because he/she happens to wear a wrong foot wear when I first meet them?

You know what? I think tomorrow I should come to Starbucks as early as I did today.
Who knows that guy would be there, sitting on the same chair having breakfast alone.
Who knows that he can be my new friend and we can share great stories.
Who knows that he can sing and join my choir group. We definitely need a new tenor or bass.
Who knows once we get close enough I can tell him where to buy classic colored socks?

 

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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My 8 Best Friends


Laughter

I have 8 best friends and I can’t name which one of them is my BEST best friend.

I’ve known one of them since I was 12. We instantly became inseparable. Not long after that, geographically speaking, we became apart. But then a few years back she came back and we didn’t start a new chapter in our friendship, we continue our great story.

I’ve known the rest since I was 16. I regard them as my siblings. We grow up together, past our puberty time, past our pre-adult period, and pretend to be adults around people. We share the stories of being in love, being dumped, being clueless, and being what we are right now : a bunch of 8 crazy teenagers stuck in the body of late twenties.

I don’t know why I think of all 8 as my best friends. One of the reasons (though not the main reason) is I can be with them as myself. Maybe because they’re always there for me, with shoulders to cry on, ears to listen, or hugs to be given away to me. Maybe it’s because the laughters and the craziness to accompany my days, or maybe it’s because the ups and the downs we share in our times together. Maybe because when I think of them in my darkest moments in my life, I can smile and see that life’s kind and good to me.

All I know that I love these 8 people like I love no one else in my life. They have a special place in my heart, and I would do anything to always have them around.

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Posted by on July 27, 2010 in Dailies

 

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