Getting a weekday off for me, has the same frequency as an eclipse. It almost never happens and when it does, you better whip your camera out (proverbially speaking, of course) and savour the moment because, it’ll be a LONG while before another one like it will come along.

LF  had the day off too and, I cajoled him into watching the first showing of the day for “He is just not that into you”. For those who are considering watching the movie after reading the book, let me help you save some money. Don’t. It is quite different from the book. For all intents and purposes, it is a feel good movie. Without giving out spoilers, half of the cast end up being the “exception” which the original book begs you not to do. You are almost NEVER the exception. Always the rule. So, why does the movie make it different? Acting wise, I could find no fault. I love Drew Berrymore who had not enough screen time, and ex-beau Justin Long did a great job of carrying the story. You can’t help a sucky script.

It was disappointing. Poor LF was giving me dagger stares for bringing him to such a poofy movie.

Talking to J made me think of T. With much apprehension, I dial his number. Expectedly, the phone rings torturing me as it continues. Eventually, I reach T’s voicemail which I struggle to understand to, as it is in a language I barely remember much less speak.

For a moment, I consider leaving a message and realise quickly that I have over stepped my boundaries by calling.

Quickly, I place the receiver down. It is not fair to T that I want to know that he is ok. It is not fair at all. I walked out, again. As I stare down the phone for an answer, and just as suddenly I decide to try once more.

Just once more, I tell myself.

In two seconds, I am met with a familiar Parisian accent. We need to talk, please. T is living the life that he wanted for us, except I am no longer there. Is that fair? I am doing exactly what I want to do, except it is without him. Is that fair?

India has a way to making you appreciate the little things in life. After witnessing a roadside accident on route to the airport, I missed the serenity of Singapore. The date was set before I even left so it was certainly marked down in iCal.

Giggles, and guffaws. Little Mrs Holland Lollipop is all packed to a place where there are more cows than human beings. A cocktail would be cherry on the terribly decadent cake, but seeing how I’m off alkie and meat. It was absolutely more than a girl could ask for.

At the risk of sounding terribly Singaporean, this is a real case of “eyes bigger than stomach”. A was kind enough to share this with me. Dee vine.

Yes. I’ll marry you if you can make me pancakes for breakfast in bed every Sunday. I’m easy like that.

In life, you are rarely given a chance to rewrite “wrongs”, much less re-live the “rights”. We trundle through the ebb and flow of our mundane routine leaving nothing to chance.

At 14, LF was uncomplicated, faultlessly innocent, utterly adorable and calm that I desperately needed yet couldn’t hold on to. Towering me with his broad swimmer shoulders, penknife thin slits for eyes coupled with a hearty laugh that caught my attention before my heart latched on.

On hindsight, LF set the tone for all the boys from then on. As we sat there, I realised that a decade, four countries, three continents, a couple of bus stops and a few relationships later, we are right back where we first started. Of course, we are better dressed now. At least, I am.