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situationandmetropolitan · 3 months ago

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About Timing

Divine timing, divine timing, timing. It seems to be a key phrase that constantly shows up on my feeds.

Timing is a tricky thing, once you believe in it, it suggests that you believe the universe is more than just a clusterfuck of chaos, instead there are plans, reasons, and meant-to-be's. So here I am, a contradictory cynical hopeless romantic, wondering are all the mishaps, the one-that-got-aways, the wrong words I blurted out, are all of those somehow part of a bigger picture destined for me, or am i just looking for silver linings for my poor luck and poor behavior.

I had this cliche rom-com trope-y moment, where I was coming back home with my groceries, a sudden relief bestowed upon me. Out of a whim, I bought all of the purple camellias from the flower stall that I've walked past thousand times. For a moment, it was all purple, my flower, my hair, my Spoify playlists in my ears. Suddenly I felt everything will be ok. Feeling light as a feather, skipping my way home, thinking, everything will be ok. No longer than 2 seconds later, the rain started to pouring down, and of course, I didn't bring my umbrella. Right at this moment, Mitski started singing in my ears :"I give it up to you, I surrender." Oh the irony.

Which brings me back to last Friday night.

Timing is a tricky thing. Sometimes you feel the string pulling you like a puppet, made you do things you weren't planning to do, but sometimes when you ask for it, it's no where to be found.

Last Friday night I went out with my friend for dinner and drinks. It was supposed to be just us two girls, chill, nothing extra, I didn't even wash my hair for it. But before I head out, somehow I felt like I should fix my hair, which led me to be 10 minutes late. My period suddenly arrived after dessert, it was almost 11pm, I was so unprepared for it I had to ask the waitress to borrow me a pad. "This night is ruined," I thought to myself. "Well, I was gonna say I could stay at yours tonight with you, and you could just give me your keys if you end up going back with someone hot, but looks like you're not going anywhere tonight." My friend laughed at me. Right, as if it's remotely possible for me to get lucky on a night out. No good-looking normal person ever showed me interest in bars or clubs, like, ever. I had already accepted my fate of all my night outs are just gonna be girly fun.

We ended up at this nightclub later that night, it's one of the most popular spot in town, and was overflowed with early twenty-somethings that night. But me and my friend, single women in our early thirties, didn't care. We're not here for men, we're here just for some dancing and a good time. However I couldn't say I didn't have a wandering eye, checking boys out. So I definitely had seen him before I ended up in his corner unintentionally.

At one point, my friend was going to the restroom, leaving me with her drink. I didn't want anything to happen in the crowded room, so I stumbled my way to a bar stool in the far back, putting down both of our drinks. Some white girl suddenly pushed me to further back, and shook her hair into my face. That's when I locked eyes with him, for the sake of storytelling, let's call him Golden Boy. He was standing at the same bar stool, talking with his friend. I made a icked face when the white girl's hair was all over my personal space, he laughed.

"You Chinese?", he asked. "Yeah." I answered, "what about you?", politely continuing the conversation. Then we get started talking, he told me about his background, how's my English so good, how did I find the club, and compared night life of Shanghai and this city, he flaunted some Mandarine Chinese. He asked me my Chinese name, and what does it mean. "Well apparently it means wise and beautiful." He laughed. "Where did you get your tattoos?", he grabbed my arm and asked. "Shanghai, Shanghai, Tokyo. I designed all of them." "Wow that's impressive!", " Told you, smart and pretty." I started to get a bit flirty. He laughed, he's got this gorgeous laugh.

By this time my friend had came back, Sabrina Carpenter's Espresso had just came on. "Let's go dancing!" He suggested, grabbed my hands. We got closer, and closer, and closer, until there's no distance between us, lips locked. I'm pretty sure I heard a "whooo!" from the crowd surrounding us. The kiss was incredible, his hands in my hair, shows just the right amount of desire.

After one more round of drink, my friend wanted to go outside and have a cigarette, we decided to go together. Before we left, there's this guy who just came into the club with two other girls. He tapped Golden Boy's shoulder, said "Hey, my friend here...", I don't know what came over me, I had never done this to someone I just met before, i grabbed his waist, he sensed it, then wrapped his arm around my neck, hand in my hair, and kissed me again. Swoon.

On our elevator ride down, I noticed his watch. I don't normally know a lot about luxury watches, but it just so happens I was doing a pitch proposal for the brand hours ago. I made a comment on it, he seemed to be a little bit embarrassed. Under the fluorescent elevator light, was the first time I truly noticed how pretty he is. Fluffy curly hair falling into all the right places, dark eyebrows and kind puppy eyes pulled me in deeper and deeper, rose colored lips, the ones I had just claimed are so soft and flushed. With all the dark features, but he just glows.

When my friend, his friend, and him shared a cigarette, I noticed his rings. It seemed like he was designed for me, tall, dark features, handsome, tasteful, stylish, gentleman, multi-cultural background, witty, and just oh so pretty. Not to sound creepy, but his face just tickles all the right parts of the folds of my brain, even thinking back, my brain lit up like a Christmas tree, no, like the night sky of the 4th of July.

We kept on flirting all night, back and forth. Somehow made it into the next nightclub. After I made sure everyone's ok, I letted out my frustration, "why am I such a mom??", "It's probably because you're a nice person." He said.

In the next club, the dancing got more steaming, the moves got more intimate. I felt his hands on my bare waist, noticeably rough, I wonder what could've happened for a boy who clearly grew up with silver spoon to have such rough hands. His arms wrapped me closer and closer, his hands were testing the boundaries. When we were sharing another passionate kiss, he whispered in my ears, "Do you wanna come back to mine?". That's when I died a little inside. Fuck, I can't, WHY OH WHY DID I HAVE TO GET MY PERIOD LITERALLY 3 HOURS AGO???. I have always been a straightforward person, but I'm not about to be so blunt right of the bat. "I don't do that." I smirked. "But you do this." he went on gave me a deeper kiss. I had no response but nod. We went on with more dancing and kisses.

The evening ended with all four of us having some casual chat outside a street food restaurant, my friend going back to mine, and his friend going back to his.

He messaged me on ig later telling me he's home, I messaged back, and thanked him for the drinks. He liked my message.

And then nothing.

On Sunday I started to initiate the conversation, because for the past 48 hours, all I could think about was him. To my disappointment, the conversation couldn't have been more polite. I was expecting fireworks, when there's barely a tiniest spark.

But then again, I am older, I am wiser, I aim to get what I want. So I laid my cards on the table, told him I think he's cute, then asked him if he wanted to grab a drink this weekend.

Next morning I woke up to messages of him liking my compliment, saying thanks, and that he might be away this weekend, but if not for sure let's.

Then I found out he unfollowed me on ig and removed me from his follower list.

Then I messaged him back as if nothing happened, trying to diverge the conversation to the night we met, which I was met with nothing but an emoji reaction.

Then nothing.

I've been sitting with this defeat for several days now. I keep wondering if things would've been different if I weren't on my period, if I had gone home with him, if we had shared breakfast the next morning. But I was, and I couldn't, all because of the timing.

Was it simply a misfortune, or was it the universe's plan to help me dodge a bullet? I may will never find out. But at this moment, Golden Boy is archived into my drawer of Could Haves, and 100% the prettiest boy I've ever had the luck to spend some time with. Which, to be honest, as an average looking, short, Chinese girl, probably is more than I could ever have hoped for.

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situationandmetropolitan · 2 months ago

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About False Synchronicities

This week, let's take a trip down the memory lane.

My friend had asked me to travel with her to a nearby city for her tattoo appointment. With nothing better to do with my life, I gladly went along. What was scheduled as a 3-hour appointment has extended and extended, and extended some more to a 9 hour process. Thank god I brought a new book with me or else I'd either die of boredom or went blind with mindless scrolling on my phone. It was 1:30am already when her immaculate new floral tattoo had finished, cognizant of the time and us two girls traveling in a new city alone, the tattoo artist kindly offered us a ride to the coach station.

He drove a dark blue tesla, and put his Spotify on shuffle. His music taste could be described as basic urban straight man. Exhausted as I was, my mind was slowly drifting away to dreamland, and that's when Starboy by The Weeknd came up the stereo. For reasons I couldn't explain, it woke me up with a sudden stream of memory of this guy I once dated, and whom I haven't thought of in a long while.

Let's call him, Mr Suitcase.

Like any modern day big city dating stories, Mr Suitcase and I matched on a dating app. We exchanged numbers shortly after and he started to text me on WhatsApp. He had tried to arrange a date on the first weekend, but I was busy, so it didn't happen. He then tried again a week later, I was caught up with work, so I had to politely decline yet again. Week three, the same thing. I thought he might, as many man I have encountered would if in the same situation, just forget about me and move on. But he didn't. Week four, I finally said yes to a Sunday night date.

At that time, I had already started seeing another guy, whom I for sure will write about in the future, so I was expecting this to be a throwaway date, and I'm only going because I applaud his persistence.

When I arrived at the rooftop of the cafe, I was taken by surprise by how gorgeous he looks, partly because I had completely forgotten what he looked like in his dating profile. His curly dark hair voluminous, his skin smooth and radiant, his eyes deep blue with slight sparkles from the reflection of the fairy lights on the rooftop, and his cardigan cream and extra cosy, he gleamed with warmth. "What can I get you for drinks?" He asked. Without a menu at hand, I panicked and went with the most basic drink choice that popped in my head, "Gin and tonic, please. Thanks!"

Moments later, he returned with two drinks in his hands. One liquor glass with fizzy transparent liquid barely covering the ice cube, adorned with a quarter slice of a lime; another hidden in a paper coffee cup, which felt out of place for a first date past 8pm. "What have you got there?" I asked. To my utter surprise, he responded with genuine wholesomeness, "Hot chocolate."

That opened my line of questioning. Mr. Suitcase was the first finance guy I voluntarily went on a date with, ever. I realized way too late the harsh truth that in this city that's thriving on finance industry, if I were to stick to my golden dating rule of no finance bros, I would've had virtually no one left to date. His hot chocolate went against every finance bro stereotypes that I have chose to avoid till then, which intrigued me. He said he doesn't drink at all outside of work, he doesn't enjoy drinking, he do it too much for work, so on his own, he would choose to stay away. I was skeptical, and till this day I don't know how much truth is there to it.

He was quite a chatter, the conversation went super smoothly, he asked me plenty about myself as well, which was a pleasant surprise. He had this undeniable confidence and comfort, to the extent that at one point he grabbed my hand to compliment my rings. However it caught me by so much surprise that I don't know if he's flirting, or was just being comfortable.

Just as I was enjoying our conversation and trying to get to know him better, he abruptly said "Right, I won't keep you any longer, shall we head out?" It was phrased as a question but the tone left me no room to say no. As we were walking downstairs, I checked my phone, 9:02pm, I was 2 minutes late to the date, the entire evening was timed 1 hour on the dot. I thought it was nothing more than a coincidence, without knowing at that time, that this should become our norm.

He gently hugged me goodbye. A notification showed up on my WhatsApp before I even made my way acrossed the street. "Hey thanks for coming out tonight, I kinda like you :)". Which brought a smile to my face, and I texted back, "Thank you for the positive feedback for our interview." as a joke.

We went out again the following weekend. Same bar, same terrace, same seat, same drinks. This time however he came straight after work, with his dark navy suit that accentuated his well maintained figure, and the color brought out the blue shine in his eyes even more. I've always had a weakness for beauty and optics, and his suits tickled something in me.

"We could make this our regular you know, every Sunday, you, me, some gin and tonic and hot chocolate." He said with a bright smile. However I had my skepticism. This was only our second date, we know a lot about each other only on the surface level. I don't know if it's my past or insecurity projecting, or my gut feeling protecting me, this type of familiarity talk raised a red flag, which of course I ignored because his face and suits made me to.

And again, as I was checking my phone making my way back home after we hugged goodnight, I realized this date was also 1 hour on the dot. Red flag, ignored again.

We went on one other date in the coming weeks before Christmas. My friend bailed on me, so I asked him if he'd like to join me to watch some horse racing.

At the race course, he was wearing the same cream cardigan as he did for our first date. That day he showed me more about him, his love for nature, animals, and animal conservation work. He told me he would like to be a naturalist if he weren't in finance. It hit a soft spot in my heart and I truly started to see him a little differently outside of the cardboard cutout finance bro.

Everyone was betting on horses, so was I, but not him. I tried to peer pressure him into having some harmless fun, but he insisted not to, even after I won a staggering 2 dollars. The minimum bet could barely buy you a bottle of water in this city, so it's certainly not about money. No alcohol, no harmless gambling, who is this finance guy?

Our third date had finally lasted longer than 1 hour on the dot. At one point I noticed his hair was slightly messy which I ran my finger through and adjusted for him. Even then, he didn't once tried to kiss me. "I'm trying to taking it slow." he told me. "I'm ok with slow." and for once I was.

He flirted through texts with me everyday, not too little, not too much, just comfortably at an arms length, before he left the city to go home to South Africa for Christmas, he even sent me selfies of him on the plane. This inconsistency had me convinced that he actually liked me.

The reason why The Weeknd reminded me of Mr Suitcase was, one night when we were texting, he was back in his hometown, out of the blue, he sent me a song on Spotify - Moth to a Flame by The Swedish House Mafia and The Weeknd.

In retrospect I think it stuck with me because a. guilt. During that time I was also dating this other guy, whom I for sure will write about some time in the future, but I was certain Mr Suitcase couldn't have known given our pattern and level of involvement. So I wasn't sure whether he was trying to say something through the song, or he just likes the song so much that he wanted to share. And b. confusion. He couldn't have been jealous could he? We've seen each other merely 3 times in the spam of 6 weeks since we first met, added total less than 4 hours, during which we had never shared any physical intimacy. Either way, ever since that exchange, I, someone who barely listens to any The Weeknd song that doesn't have an Ariana Grande feature, have somehow subconsciously and unintentionally started to associate The Weeknd with Mr Suitcase.

During his holiday away, he had showed me his family porch, his dog, and his Christmas pajamas. I had showed him the red panda I barely saw during my trip to Ocean Park, my bunny ear for my Disneyland trip, and my cat sitting with me while I played Spider-Man 2 on PS5. "Oh you can't be playing that surely." He texted. Sometimes I forgot he was several years older than me. "Why not it's one of my hobbies." I replied, taking slight offense.

We had another terrace gin and tonic and hot chocolate date after he got back to town. During the date he sharply noticed my new necklace. "Who got you this necklace I'll kill him." He asked, jokingly, I think. "Oh c'mon why such aggression?" I replied, shamefully feeling a little bit validated by his possessiveness, "Also why did you just assume someone else got it for me? I bought it myself as a 21st independent woman thank you very much." "It's real diamond and gold! How much money do you actually make?" He laughed in awe. "Definitely not as much as you." I gave him a side eye.

I went in this date thinking, surely he's gonna try to kiss me this time. And that expectation built up exponentially after his flirty banter. But to my disappointment, he didn't.

In the following weeks, he would text me almost daily, but never setting up any dates, however he did mention he was really busy with work and had sent me some work selfies wearing glasses, which I've never seen before, and so happens to be another one of my weakness. I grew slightly agitated. Patience has never been my strong suit and my obsession had somehow made kissing that man a mission to accomplish, and my long trip to the UK was coming up shortly, time was ticking.

So one weekend, I decided to ask him out. He agreed but instead of going out, he proposed to have me over for dinner and Netflix, which, as a 30 something year old woman, the implication was loud and clear. I had put some thoughts into what to wear. "Just a heads up, I am literally living out of a suitcase, so my place is not cozy at all." He told me. So I went with a casual T-Shirt and jeans for comfort, and matching lingerie underneath, for just in case.

He didn't come downstairs to pick me up, red flag. However just as the pattern goes, I quickly brushed it off when I saw him waiting for me at his door in a half sheer white t-shirt emphasizing his sculpturesque figure, hair still wet from shower.

He wasn't exaggerating when he said he was living out of a suitcase. The apartment, which he had told me he was borrowing from a friend, would be a normal family-sized in any other city, but in this one of the most expensive cities in the world, it was luxuriously spacious, and, empty. The two piece suits that once struck my heartstring were laid on the table, unremarkable, his cardigan dangling from the back of the chair, stiff. There's no cushions on the sofa, no tv, no rug, nothing of any level of coziness. The apartment was bare aside from the absolute essential and built-in furnitures.

We ordered take-out sushi and ate at the dinner table, sitting next to his suits. No music. Red flag.

Afterwards, he invited me back to his bedroom. "I'm not suggesting anything, just there's nothing in the living room, so I normally just hang in my bedroom." He ensured me. I followed. The bedroom is consistent with the style of the living room - bare minimum. White sheets, white duvet, two of the saddest pillows I've ever seen in my life, soggy, flat, and of different shapes that clearly don't match. I stood in the room awkwardly as he sat in his bed. I was, and still am, quite aware it's not respectful and sanitary to sit in someone's bed in your jeans, however I also didn't feel comfortable taking off my jeans without any alternative. Mr. Suitcase seemed to have caught my thoughts, "Well I did tell you to wear something comfortable, but come on, you can wear your jeans it's alright, get comfortable."

He didn't have a laptop so we browsed Netflix on his iPad. It was unconventional, unromantic, slightly awkward, but I didn't mind that much. Because I came with one mission and one mission only, to know what he tastes like.

His Netflix history was as predictable as it gets for a finance bro - Suits, The Wolf of Wall Street, and American Psycho. But to my insistence, we put on The Bold Type.

He seemed off the entire time. Jittery, on edge, unsettled. One moment he was putting his arm around me, next moment he was holding my hands, the next he tried to hold my thighs. As if he couldn't decide on a comfortable position and trying new placement every 20 seconds, which would be understandable if it didn't went on for 20 minutes. Any other self-respecting woman would've left right then and there, lucky for him, I am not that type. Instead it triggered my I-can-fix-him complex. "Are you ok?" I asked, "Did you take something? You can tell me you know." "Nah," he brushed it off, "I'm just under a lot of stress at work recently, and the adrenaline is still rushing through me." I was on the fence. But instead of drilling him, I gently put my hand on his head, gently stroking my fingers across his forehead and through his hair. "This feels nice." He said. "I know, I'm trying to calm you down," I said, "I'm nice like that." He then suddenly turned around, arms around me, hands in my hair, pressured his lips onto mine.

I remember thinking, no, this is not supposed to be like this. It felt abrupt, distant, pragmatic. There's no romance, no spark, no butterflies, nothing like what I expected, not at all. However I still went with it, put on my best performance, encouraged the kiss to go further and further. Then he stopped. His jitter didn't go away just because we were making out. He continued to twist and turn every 20 seconds, kissing me, dropping me, stroking my face, kissing me again, turned away again, stroke my hair and call me "petal", kissing me again, grabbing my ass, dropping it, turning away again. I was confused the entire time, not knowing what he wanted. The code that's supposed to be as clear as "Dinner and netflix at mine" couldn't be any more complicated. Perhaps for the first time in the history of online dating, this man genuinely meant "Dinner and netflix at mine" when he said "Dinner and netflix at mine".

10 pm, his bed time. Without taking things any further, he called me an Uber, walked me downstairs, gave me a cuddle and a kiss, and bid me goodnight.

And that was the last time I ever saw him.

After I left that day, I naively categorized that as maybe he was just having a weird day. So as I arrived home, I bought him a blessed red string bracelet online (It was the year of his zodiac sign and it was Chinese tradition to wear red string bracelet to fend of any bad spirits on your animal year, and he always wears a handful of handmade bracelets of different meanings). We tried to arrange another date at my place before I left for my UK trip, but he was too busy to make it.

The text frequency had fell off noticeably when I was in the UK, though still very flirtatious. When I arrived at Brighton from London, he asked me to show him around. I sent him a video of the gorgeous Brighton beach sunset, with murmur of birds swirling against the golden lights of sun, to which he never replied. Few days later I checked in on him, and to my surprise, but not really, because I felt it in my gut something was off, he told me he had gone back to his ex girlfriend. I wished him well and we left it at that.

I never felt sad or heartbroken, or even shed a tear for him. I barely knew him and never quite understood him. So I just put our chat in the archive, and moved on. Until last week.

I had just started to watch this HBO show called Industry, the main characters have the same job as Mr. Suitcase. I didn't think much of it at that moment. Days later, in my friend's tattoo artist's car, The Weeknd suddenly came up on radio, that moment, I thought of him. A day after that, my friend asked me what do I want for our dinner date, I went on Google map, and the first dot that I clicked on, was a South African Restaurant. It can't be, I thought, is the universe sending me a sign? Days later, I was going on a book reading brunch date with another friend. Where did she suggest? That cafe, with the terrace, gin and tonic, and hot chocolate.

This isn't happening. I thought. In the spam of a week, the amount of cues that specifically reminding me of Mr. Suitcase has been staggering. Do you know that feeling when even though practically you and the other person are fully done, but deep down in your guts, somehow, against all logic and reason, you just feel like it's not finished, not completely. The synchronicities had me convinced that whatever I felt was still there was not just my imagination. A few months ago I dreamed of him being my boyfriend out of no where. I never got rid of the red string bracelet I bought for him. The show, the songs, the restaurant, the cafe, they're all so specifically him.

So I was sure, this weekend, on my book reading date with my friend, I was going to run into him, we were going to reconcile, rekindle, reconnect. But of course, I was delusional, and wrong. Or else the title wouldn't be called "false synchronicities".

We sat downstairs in the cafe for brunch, then moved up to the terrace I was so familiar with for more coffee. Four hours of us being there, until it started pouring down, no sign of him, not at all. Of course not. Why would he be there? Because I listened to too much Invisible Strings by Taylor Swift? Because my brain is wired to draw false connections? Because somehow for some unknown reason I haven't fully let him go? Because I've mistaken my frustration of an unaccomplished mission to gut feeling of affection?

The universe is chaotic, unplanned, unconscious. The signs we see are just reflections of our state of mind deep down. It has nothing to do with the universe, the grand scheme of things, the other person. It never did. A thing is just a thing, nothing more, nothing less.

One day I'll be able to listen to The Weeknd without automatically thinking of the confusing Mr. Suitcase. Even though I don't think today is that day.

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