What are the odds

Oddss

Have you ever wondered what your odds were? Is it more than ‘May the odds ever be in your favor’ from Hunger Games? Well, of course it is.

What are the odds of me liking anyone at all? Will they be tall enough, smart enough? Clean cut and the ability to give me butterflies in my stomach? Dare I ask for washboard abs and soft hair. Psh. Now I’m just hoping for too much.

For starters, what are the odds of me liking someone? People may not notice (or do they) but how much they like someone at first glance really depends on -to me- a few factors. From how they walk, to how they talk, to how they function or how smart they are. To be honest, it’s pretty easy to be smarter than me. I’m only ever good at English (or at least am decent at). Other than that, I kind of suck at everything else unlike my sisters. My family knows it, they just don’t say it.

And if ever I end up liking someone,will they even like me back? Now that’s another story altogether. Urgh. Most of the time they get intimidated by my level of study, no, not because I’m an ivy league scholar or anything, but because all the guys whom I’ve ever liked or crushed on were not as ‘smart’ (seriously, screw Singapore’s stereotyping by education level. I date whoever I want regardless of education!) as me(?) I’ve actually thought about it and came to the conclusion that I prefer boys who aren’t as ‘smart’ because they’re simpler to understand. They have less extravagant wants, and are mostly more jovial than ‘smarter’ boys. Smart boys are cool and all, but they always manage to make me feel inferior beside them. They intimidate me and I just can’t stand it. Do I like to be the one wearing the pants? No, not really. I still like guys who actually plan for what we should do for the day, be it as friends or not.

But spot the difference. An average guy would bring me kite flying (Yay!) at Marina Barrage or something while a more educated guy would want to bring me to an action movie (Hm). Maybe it isn’t the same for you. Maybe ‘smart’ (I’ve decided to refer to them as Preppy.) boys in France bring their dates to the Eiffel Tower, which is pretty damn romantic, while preppy boys from Taiwan bring their dates to classy Dim Sum restaurants (Yum). But for some reason, that’s how it always happens for me. Why? I don’t know, ask them.

All in all, I don’t mind guys who aren’t my equals (not that being my equal is some huge feat). I’m the nurturing type anyway. And don’t ask me what my type is. If I like you, I like you. And if I don’t, then I’m sorry man.

Will they love me a fraction of how much I love them? Will they love me even. This is probably the #1 reason why I’ve given up chasing. It just doesn’t make sense now that I think of it. If you chase the guy and get him, he’ll know for sure that you like him more than he does you. Call me pessimistic and cynical, but I think this opens me up to being cheated on in the end. Doesn’t it make more sense this way? At least if a guy were to ask me out or for my number, I’d know he’s interested. It’s a safer ‘trade-off’ of emotions to me. I come in with nothing while he comes in with a crush or what not. Yes, when I put it this way, I may be seen as rather cowardly, but you know what they say, always protect yourself first.

On the other hand, I may not necessarily like the person who asks for my number. In fact, I’ve never given my number to anyone who has asked for it. It’s one thing to attract someone, but it’s another thing to attract the ones you actually like or want. Also, if I ever give my number out, I may run the risk of coming off as ‘easy’. How to get rid of that mindset? Play hard to get for a while but risk him getting tired and discouraged. Sigh. Cynical, cynical Cherie.

Can they even stand loving me;all of me. From the scars on my arms to the wars in my head and the vacancy in my eyes deep . People tell me not to worry, that I’ll have guys at my feet by the time I turn 21 and am officially ‘out there’. I smile but really, who am I kidding? The only people who tell me that are my family and friends, which is comforting to some point but really, who dates friends? Well, I’d like my boyfriend to be my friend first, but the theme of being more than friends would always be playing in the background. People often tell me that if they didn’t know me and saw me in town, they’d think I was snobbish and stuck up. Their solution? That I should be happier and smile more.

AUFK

Okay. Firstly, if you actually ever see me out in town, I’m probably already in a very good mood. Secondly, don’t hate on my condescending and forever-unimpressed face (yes, I am very aware of that). It’s just… it’s just…IT’S JUST MY FACE. OKAY? 

And if ever, I get lucky and find someone. Anyone at all, if everything goes smoothly, which it probably wouldn’t,

Can he accept my family at all? Let’s not even talk about my height, my dire lack of femininity and sharp tongue. Let’s just talk about my family in general. My sisters are smart, cunning and smart all over again. Sure, they may not have graduated from the most prestigious of universities and collages, but they get what they want, when they want it. And if you harness such a skill in the working world, you my friend, are already well ahead of the game. Being a total sour grape and straight up bitch, I’ll say that my elder sister isn’t all that pretty. She’s not. She’s huge (like tall) and flat as a plank. But where is she now? Married with kids. As a member of the female species, I am both insulted and demoralised.

Me as a jealous sister? I wouldn’t deny it. To make myself feel better I tell myself ‘At least her husband is a total jackass’, which he is. Even my father says so. But it doesn’t change the fact that the woman has managed to get herself hitched and has promoted herself from being just a ‘girlfriend’ to a wife and mother. Of course I’m not as spiteful as to try and break them up or something, but look at the progress she has made. And all before she hit 26!

Then there comes my second sister, being proposed to at 21 and getting married the same year. How the hell do you beat that. Maybe if I married into the Yakuza. Then again, just maybe.

So your sisters were successful human beings. That does mean you can’t be too!

Oh I’ve got tons of things to worry about within the family. From who’s talking to who, who can know what to where everybody is. I’m the family messenger, family secretary and private psychiatrist. In a nutshell, I’m the family’s 宝戈廖 (bao ge liao, or whole package). Seems like a very noble job, right?

HAHA, NO. 

I don’t even have time to be a total girl, PMS everywhere and stain every white fabric known to man. If you knew what I had to do, you’d agree with me that ain’t nobody got time for that. MHM. I’m expected to take everything in stride, convey messages accurately without interfering, go to school and remain human. Yet people wonder why I’m rarely impressed by anything. So as I attempt to download this intriguing thing people call a ‘social life’ and perhaps chance upon someone I can romantically click with, I go up against my family’s expectations.

‘What does he study?’
‘Is he smart?’
‘I don’t like how he looks.’
‘What does his family do?’ 
‘That school?’ 
*Loudly proclaims to ‘no one in particular’* 3 pointer? for GCE O Levels? Big deal. (Sister #x, you know who you are.) 
Calls guy up to tell him to stay the hell away from me. 

THEN they ask me why I’m still single. Not to mention, they have recently expressed their dismay when I dropped hints that I may like boys with not-too-spectacular qualifications or education. It went a little like this:

Me: Aunty, what would you say to me dating an ITE boy? 
Aunty: It’s still…alright…? 
Me: Who dropped out of ITE. 
Aunty: Hahahahaha…ummmmmm. [long pause] I’ll be really sad. (In other words, ‘Please consider my views, opinions and feelings’.)

And don’t give me that ‘follow your heart’ and ‘you’re the one dating him not them!’ bullshit. As much as I hate to admit, they’re right. How in the world do you survive in Singapore when you don’t have a decent education? It’s scary to think that in 10 years, I’d be expected to be married, have a stable combined income, pay my taxes, somehow afford a flat and have children. Scratch that, the thought is terrifying in itself. Call me delusional, but I reckon this is the government’s sick way of breeding a smarter and more elite generation. Quality over quantity, only the best will survive!

It’s simple, really.

Two people of sustainable income get married. The two individuals would probably be degree holders, holding some sort of paper-proclaimed level of intelligence. They have kids, whom they will raise with the mindset that they must work towards being successful, AKA graduate from a university and achieve the 5 Cs’ in life (Car, Cash, Condo, Credit Card, Country club membership). And how would they ever achieve that alone? Joint income. But with whom? Another kid with similar background and upbringing of course! (My God, I’m going to get so much hate for this.)

So what are my odds of finding that one person who is customized for me? Coupled with the odds of them not turning out to be total jerks, assholes and the occasional pedophile? I’m not asking for flowers on Valentines day, cute texts or random surprises. I’m talking about acceptance and understanding from the people around me. It sounds easy enough, but really it isn’t. My society is so…so…square.

So that’s the end of my rant. I can’t believe I started this post as a poem categorized under my ‘Creative Writing’ tab but realized I had far too much to say and it morphed into this more-than-a-thousand word essay/rant.

But thanks for bearing with me.

Love from the lonely,
Cherie

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