When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

From Jewish Art, edited by Grace Cohen Grossma...
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I stumbled upon this in my email this morning when I was having a cuppa tea, and somehow, it made me ponder. So, my married and unmarried readers, I’d like to share the story with you.

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy.. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.

Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls’ eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.

Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife.. But I couldn’t help doing so.

I moved Dew’s hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I’ve got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.

Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew’s body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn’t imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I’ve got something to tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topic calmly.

She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I’m serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry.. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man!

That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.

Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month s time before divorce, and in the month’s time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn’t want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day? This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember. You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning.

I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage romantically.

I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, Let us start from today, don’t tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I drove to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn’t tell Dew about this.

I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain.. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it’s time to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old.

I held her tightly and said, both you and I didn’t notice that our life lacked intimacy.

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won’t divorce. I’m serious.

She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. You got no fever.. She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of life, not because we didn’t love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you.

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.

When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I’ll carry you out every morning until we are old.

Cleffairy: Unfortunately in the real world, bitches always have their ways. 🙁

To my married and unmarried friends:

This is a very touching story, please read it slowly, I’ve read it more than twice….

When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy.. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.

Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls’ eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.

Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife.. But I couldn’t help doing so.

I moved Dew’s hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I’ve got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.

Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew’s body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn’t imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I’ve got something to tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topic calmly.

She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I’m serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry.. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man!

That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.

Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.



She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month s time before divorce, and in the month’s time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn’t want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day? This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember. You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning.

I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage romantically.

I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, Let us start from today, don’t tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I drove to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn’t tell Dew about this.

I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain.. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it’s time to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old.

I held her tightly and said, both you and I didn’t notice that our life lacked intimacy.

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won’t divorce. I’m serious.

She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. You got no fever.. She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of life, not because we didn’t love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you.

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.

When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I’ll carry you out every morning until we are old.

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Joint Responsibility

I’ve been meaning to write about this since last year, and I have no idea why I’ve been procrastinating writing this down. Perhaps, my temper did not flare enough for me to put it into words. Or perhaps, it is because only today I felt the need to express this, as I’ve seen no changes or progress in the matter that I shall soon delve in.

Frankly speaking though, it’s neither. It is actually because, all my life, I’ve always felt that I delivered my thoughts better through writing than merely speaking. People in my life simply DO NOT LISTEN, or PRETENDED not to, and usually, I have no other place to vent my anger besides places where I could write them down.

Talking to people in my life sometimes is as useless as talking to the wall. Believe me, it’s not that I did not try to communicate what’s bothering me, but they are hardheaded and sometimes do not listen to other’s advice for they think they are such smart ass when the fact is they are a true jackass. I always ended up angrier when I spoke about it because it simply do not work with the hardheaded bastards. I’ve always feel that at least, when I blog about certain matters that’s eating me alive I get a more desirable respond than confronting the matter.

So, allow me to talk about this: Joint responsibility.

No, I’m not talking about joint responsibilities between spouses in their respective household, that will have to wait until next time. This time I’d like to talk about joint responsibility between siblings in caring for elder relatives- such as an aging parent, dying relatives, etc.

You see, dear readers, I’ve always hate freeloaders. They work me up to the point that I feel that I would tear my own head apart if I could. They pissed me off to no end, because ever since I was a little girl, I was thought to walk with my chin up and with dignity and pride, and no matter what I do, I must not freeload on others. I was thought not to beg for help, even if I’m starving on the street.

For some this may not be such a good trait, cuz it often tends to make one suffer than having an easy and luxurious life. But it works for me. It makes me what I am today. It makes me stronger.

Yes, my father had taught me well. He not only taught me the ways of the world, but he also thought me to be a responsible person- where I must be responsible for myself and people around me. And as a firstborn, I was also thought to care for the younger and have compassion for the elders. So even if I don’t like it, I will still be responsible for what I am supposed to be responsible with.

Unfortunately for me, and perhaps my little family too, other people’s father and mothers did not have enough conscience to teach their children what my father had instilled into me through his wise words and actions.

They had spoiled their children rotten, and they were not thought to be responsible even for themselves, and in the end, they take the easy way out by literally going around freeloading and behaves like an irresponsible fool, even when they are already married and have children of their own. These people have a mindset that I could not bear; which is people will clear up their problems for them each time they ask for help.

These people too are the kind of people who will without a doubt forsake their aging parents when the time comes for them to take care of their aging parents. They will give many kind of excuses so that they will not need to take responsibility and be a responsible person. They prefer to pass on their responsibility to their siblings who sometimes have no choice but to take sole responsibility on their aging or sick parents just because the other one absolutely refuse to take do their part and share the responsibility of taking care of their elders.

Among lames excuses that I’ve heard countlessly before and I don’t doubt that I’ll be hearing them again are until the day that I breathe my last:

1. Mum/dad prefers you over me. So just let them stay with you.

2. I’m not financially stable yet. I may be sacked soon… or demoted… or you name it.

3. The economy is not good, I need extra cash to feed my family. Why don’t you take responsibility? Your financial seems better than mine.

4. I have more children than you, whom are going to school… bla bla bla… your brat is not going to school yet, you have less burden than me, so why don’t you take responsibility?

5. My wife/ spouse does not get along well with with the in laws. I will get into HUGE trouble if I take care of of mum/dad. You wouldn’t want me to get into a huge fight and ruin my marriage, will you?

They will give countless of excuses so that they will not be burdened with the joint responsibility of taking care of their aging parents. Taking care of their parents, or giving some sort of allowance to them is considered a gruesome task. They care for nothing but themselves and their own happiness. They gave no thoughts that their behaviour gave problems to their siblings who finds it hard to take responsibility on their aging parents all by themselves-morally and financially.

They said the aging parent in question prefers the other sibling them. But the fact is, their attitude displease everyone. Everyone gets sick of them, and even when people express displeasure towards their irresponsible attitude, they turn blind eye towards the issue and they flare their bloody tempers.

They tell people that their financially unstable and therefore, other sibling(s) who earns more should take sole responsibility on caring for their aging parents. But to me, this is just excuse. If they can afford to spoil their spouse and children with luxury and feed their brats til they become a glutton of a pig, and lavish their wives with expensive and unnecessary things or invest in countless insurance so that they could die a rich man, why can’t they contribute a penny or two as well?

They always say they have no money. Frankly speaking, I just think it’s either a lame excuse to escape the responsibility or poor personal financial management. If their other sibling who earns less than them could take on the responsibility, why can’t they? It only comes to one thing: They do not want to be responsible. THEY DO NOT WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE! That is why!

They say they have more children, and therefore, the cost of their upbringing is higher than the other siblings. I suppose it never crossed their birdbrain that their siblings too have burdens of their own, and their action have cost problems to their sibling’s family as well.

They said, their spouse does not like their aging parents, and if they provide a roof over the  aging parent’s head, World War III will erupt. My word! I can’t believe it never crossed their mind that their siblings too will have problems with their spouse if they take on the responsibility completely on their own.

I’ve always hate these kind of people, and I can never find it in my heart to respect them, especially when they are a older than me. It disgust me to no end, no matter what excuses they give to justify their action. Never ever ask me to respect these kind of people because if you do, all you get will only be my wrath. I don’t have even a morsel of respect or admiration for such people.

My respect is not for these kind of irresponsible, selfish and obnoxious bastards. They are definitely intolerable, and if they are dead the next minute of my life, I will not mourn for them. Instead, I’ll be having a party to celebrate the fact that one more useless person in my life is gone for good. The absence of these kind of people is a relief, for they only burden others. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I must say.

Unfortunately, irresponsible and selfish people do not die easily. They just don’t get it, and they won’t disappear and I can only hope that retribution will come without fail, and in the future, they will be placed in the same predicament that they have put their parents or their siblings through. Children usually learn from example. And being irresponsible is not a good example to growing children. I hope, one day, they will feel how it is like when their children behave as irresponsible as them when they are old and senile.


Cleffairy: It disgust me that sometimes, people who are older than me are incapable of being responsible for themselves and failed to do their part in caring for their elders. Never ever ask me to give face or demand me to respect these kind of people, because they only deserve blasphemy from me. You want respect from me because I am younger than you? Earn it then!

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Solitude vs Bad Companionship

I would have chosen death any day over solitary life or bad companionship, but then again, if one could not have death, I wonder, which one is better? A solitary life where loneliness is your only true friend, or bad company where you get irritated, angry and uncomfortable with your companion or the people around you, because they simply would not respect your rights and privacy?

As of late, I have been thinking about this matter; on whether I would prefer solitude or bad companionship. One thing about me that others should know is that I don’t like to feel bored and lonely. I like a merry, cheerful and carefree life where I can share my days and night with others.

But while I prefer not to be alone and would like to have a pair or ears that listens without judging and a shoulder to cry on every now and then in all my troubles, I don’t think I would appreciate bad company.

I think, I would prefer a solitary life any day than having people trying to make my inner volcano erupt all the time by invading my space and privacy. Yes, I think, I’d rather have that.

When life is truly bad and you think you’re all alone in all your troubles and you can’t get out of it and all you want is to buy yourself a coffin and bury yourself, you would probably want to be alone, either to take a breather or to reflect on what’s going on in your life so that you can move on later on when you’re ready.You would not want anymore additional stress and pressure.

But sometimes, life plays dirty tricks on you, and people simply would not leave you alone… and whether you want it or not, you get bad companion who doesn’t understand you at all, and only think for themselves. Yes, they think nothing but themselves and they get on your nerves and more often than not and they definitely make you feel that you are capable of murdering them. Unfortunately for you, they simply wouldn’t go away, because however unwelcome they are in your life, you could not get rid of them-they might be old friends, parents, in laws, siblings, etc.

Frankly speaking, I used to think that a solitary life is a punishment more worst than death itself, but not anymore. I now know that solitary life can be more soothing and more serene than having assholes who exists solely to make you feel pissed off and could do nothing about it. I used to hate the thought of having no one to turn to, but I’d rather have no one to turn to than having my blood boil every single breath with their attitudes.

Cleffairy: Hopefully, I will not have to truly choose between a solitary life or having bad companions in my life for death would be a better choice between the two.

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The many reasons of sex

I haven’t been feeling inspired these days, and I’ve come to realized why. No, it’s not because my sex life is boring and I’m brain dead or anything. I realized it’s because I’ve been dead busy these days trying to put my life together to even sit down and have a cuppa tea.This is by far the worst and busiest year in my life. Too much things to do, too less time.

If you have been following my blog since last year, you might realized that I’m usually inspired when I’m relaxing over my cuppa tea. Well, believe it or not, life have been depriving me for the goddamn source of caffeine. It’s been some time since I sit down, breathe and sip my cuppa tea while I do some deep thinking.

Yours truly just had a couple cuppa tea a moment ago while her eyes are glued to the idiot box, and guess what? That bloody cup of caffeine yours truly glunk down her throat is flowing down her blood veins and now she can’t sleep. Cleffairy is now officially caffeine overdosed, and hell she cannot sleep, and cannot think about anything else but write about sex to pass her night time.

All right, let’s do it, people. No, his is not an invitation to have sex… but an invitation to TALK about sex. It’s been awhile since I bring up this topic, isn’t it? Well, let’s proceed, shall we?

People have sex all the time. Everyone have sex. Any way they want it. Any where they feel like doing it, and any time they feel like doing the gloriously exhilarating deed. For some lucky few, their sex life is hot and passionate, while great numbers of others, sex is just the deed that they performed half-heartedly so that they don’t deprive their other half of their conjugal rights.

People have sex for many reasons. Most of the time, it’s simply because as men and women have needs for it, and it does not matter if it’s a fling or just a one night stand. Sex, for some, it’s a great release, be it physically, mentally or emotionally. Some people needs to have sex just to forget their frustration in life, as only during sexual intercourse, they would not think about what’s troubling them. Problems flew out of the window as they rocks the bed, the sofa, whatever.

Believe it or not, sex, for some, can have the effect of a therapy. I believe, in some part of the world where people are more open about the subject-our western counterparts, uses sex as therapy. Look it up if you are interested. Yes, sex is some kind of a therapy. It may be bad for the soul… but yeah, for some, sex works wonder for their body and mind. For some, sex left them satiated afterwards, provided, their partner’s performance is up to their standard.

To put it bluntly, most people have sex because of lust, not necessarily because they are committed to their partner and wants to do the happily ever after and grow old together part of the story. Sad, but true, but that’s a fact. Some people just have sex for the heck of it.They need it, so they find willing…or  heavens forbids, unwilling partner to satisfy their lust.

For some lucky others, they don’t have sex, but they made love to their partner.  For these people, it’s all about consummation of love, not just a mind blowing sex  or merely a session where they exchange bodily fluids with each other. They do so because they wanted to please and give pleasure their lover, partner or spouse. They made love, and it’s all about giving and not taking.They use their body to express their emotion to one another in a way that words can never do.

They put their other half’s needs before their own, and they feel more satisfied when their partner are throughly pleasured with their stamina and their ‘creativity’. They take time to arouse one another and explore each other’s body as if it they are doing it for the first time.

Now, that is making love. There’s huge differences between sex and making love. People who wants to make love to their partner are usually determined to get things rights, even if they have been together for a decade. They are emotional and intuitive, not to mention powerful and passionate. Their goal is simply to excite.

I know many of you out there are in a relationship. Some of you have lovers and most are of you are married. Some of you may have high libido and you may have the stamina to do it 2-3 times a day while the pitiful others don’t get to have fun on the bed as often as they want because the brats and mundane chores get in the way.

How many times you do it in a day, a month or a year is not the question here. My question here is, do you have sex of made love to your partner? Care to share your views with me on what you think about sex and making love?

Cleffairy: Do you fall in love or in lust?

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My Early Xmas Wishlist

It is still too early to be making Christmas wish list. I am no child. Far from that. And I do not expect my presents to be left for me under an enormous Christmas tree, but then again, I found that I desperately needed to make one.  All these while, I don’t know what I should wish for for Christmas, but I’m going almost insane right now. I’m having an emotional breakdown I need to hold on to something… some hope, some magic… a miracle or else… I don’t think I can go on. Not anymore. I can’t believe what I have become. A timid person who is scared to voice up her opinion just because she’s so sick of fighting issues that she consider not worth an argument in the first place.

I am utterly disgusted by it- by what kind of person I have become. Since when I became the ‘yes woman’ or ‘let it be woman’? What happened to the carefree and the fighter in me? Well… someone trampled it, stepped on it, shred it to pieces, slow and bloody… mercilessly.

Anyway, here’s my fondest wish. Let’s just spare Santa from all the gory details, shall we?

All I want for Christmas is:

1. My life back. I feel lifeless now.

2. My voice… I want my opinion heard and RESPECTED.

3. PRIVACY. I want PRIVACY and freedom to be able to do what I want.

4. A rest with no bloody shit disturbing me. No unwanted phone calls, no people to entertain, no screaming…

5. Less work to do. No more chores… no more cleaning up to please people or to find that my hard work have been messed up again over and over again without failed.

6. Some quality time with my loved ones. Please note… loved ones… not people whom I’m forced to tolerate for whatever fucking reason. I don’t care, I need to unwind… please, give me a break! Please, give me a break, I need to breathe.

7. Just for one day…just for one day… I want to go back to the day I was in form 5. I want to feel the joy of being innocent, naive, and silly once again. I want to be able to be myself- the young girl who’s spirited.

8. I want to turn back time. I want to make things right for everyone. If not everyone, at least for myself, so that I won’t be guilt ridden for the rest of my life.

9. I want to start my life all over… year 2004 was by far the best year after college. I want to start over at that point of my life.

10. I want to be able to do what I loved and does best. I want to learn. I want to be able to make my own mistakes.

11. I want to play chess for at least 2 hours, I want to go horseback riding and spend my whole day reading comics, novels, and books that I fancy.

12. I want to be able to complete a 500 or 1000 puzzles without the fear of having called to do something… or having it put away by people without my permission.

13. I want to be able to be honest to my family, without having the fear of them not able to accept what I want to be honest about. I’m so tired of lying…

14. I want no more worries…especially about money.

15. I don’t expect romance, but I want to feel appreciated for the things that I have done.

16. I want more passion in my life…more joy, more excitement, more thrills.

17. I want to feel how it is like to be in love again, head over heels kind of feelings.

18. I want to be able to understand people better, and in return, I want people to be more sensitive about my feelings.

19. I want to have time to write again. I want to be able to create  masterpieces effortlessly again… the way I did back in 1998… a complete masterpiece each month.

20. I want to be inspired and to be able to have dreams again. And I also want to have a baby daughter who is a result of love…

21. I want to have friends again… friends, in the context where I can hang out and chill out with them.

22. I want to be able play Maplestory for the whole day again with my fellow gamers and to be able to stay awake til at least 3am in to enjoy the much coveted solitude.

23. I want to go to the beach, just to breathe in the scent of the salted sea, and listen to the gentle waves hitting the soft sands…to remember that the sea was where I used to belonged.

24. I want to have a career of my choosing…I want to go back to what I think is my true calling- the journalism line…reporting. Journalism is the first step to creating the history of mankind. I want to be apart of that.

and most importantly

25. I want to be able to go home without any fear. Without the feelings that my space have been invaded, my privacy is not respected and my eyes and ears are assaulted by unpleasant things.

I do hope at least one of my wishes could come true… but seeing my wishes are not in the form of material things, I don’t think it is possible for anyone to grant me any of it, and it doesn’t matter if I’ve been a good girl whole year through. But then again… desperate woman do desperate things, including making wishes like this, hoping that her wishes could at least be heard if it cannot be realized.

The list is what I wished for from the bottom of my greedy heart. What is your wish, dear readers?

Cleffairy: If I can’t have at least my privacy, freedom and voice back… well then perhaps, my life is no longer worth living. I used to think that when one fall in love, it would be forever…but one can only be in love til their last breath if they are a masochist.

Whether I am a masochist or not, that is for me to know, and for you to find out. Are you a masochist?

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Birthday and some reflection.

2nd September 2009 was my 25th birthday. I was a year older, and I don’t think I am a year wiser, for what it’s worth, despite what my best friend Pauline says. I have yet to learn about the constantly changing and challenging world and make my way through all of the nonsense that’s going on in my life at the moment.

Some of you might want to know what I did for my birthday. After all, you only celebrate your birthday once a year. I think normal people would have a birthday bash on their birthday. However, Cleffairy never seems to be a normal person ever since she was a child. I am more than certain some of yours truly’s high school friends can vouch for it.

Well, besides from having celebrated my birthday 2 days earlier with my in laws ( My FIL bought me a birthday cake and celebrated with me- something I really appreciate and would remember for the rest of my life), I did nothing special on my birthday.

So many things went on two days before my birthday, and when 2nd Sept arrived, I was dead tired.  Apart from going online in a cyber cafe before the clock strike 12 and chatted with some of my fellow friends whom I grew fond of over the years, all I did was lay in bed for the whole bloody day and try to get some rest.

I wish I could say I had a hell of sex or did something exciting  the day before that, but sadly, that’s not why I was so tired and had to rest on my birthday. Far from it, and I am not sure if I want to be reminded on how I spent the day I turn 25. It’s simply a waste of a good fine day.

Unproductive, unimaginative, boring, lame, disappointing, frustrating, you name it! All because of what? All because I WAS DAMN TIRED AND HAD NOT ENOUGH REST FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY!

Bloody hell! Why the hell I was tired? Well, there’s no point writing here, because it won’t change a thing. I cannot turn back time. Even if I could, I still don’t think I have the power to do anything about it either.

I am sure all of you are bored with my bitching by now…so I’ll stop bitching and spare the innocence of your eyes.  I did some reflection on my birthday…evaluate what I have in my life and what I have achieved so far. I did not like it. I don’t think I have achieved anything over the years, and screw people who says it is all right. It is not all right for me. I think I did everything the wrong way all these while.

But, I must have done something right all these while to deserve friends whom I have never met before, showering me with birthday wishes. I get no presents from them (or from anyone in my shitty life for that matter), but it’s the thoughts that counts. Remembering me, consoling me, appreciating me. Most of them are online friends. Gamers. Bloggers. Readers.

And I must have done something really good in my past life to deserve a friend (Pauline) who is more like a sister to me than just a friend-whom I can count on not to forget my birthday until the day that I’m buried six-feet underground. She’s probably the only person in my life apart from my father, my mother and my sister who will not forget my birthday.

Despite of an uneventful 25th birthday, it is a consolation to know that some people out there appreciate that I exists and genuinely care for me. This entry is for you…all of you who makes me feel appreciated when I don’t feel appreciated and being taken for granted. Thank you so… so much. To those who sms-ed me, call me, email me…thank you so much. You brought smile to my face, and honestly, it is not really that easy for me to laugh or smile anymore. You gave me happiness more than other people in my life could at the moment… and know this, my precious friends, all of you meant a lot to me.

Cleffairy: I did not get any presents for my birthday. It’s been quite some time since I received any birthday presents. But I suppose, having friends who appreciate me for who I am is a gift that can never be replaced by other.

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Some people are simply rude and uncivillized

Last Friday, my younger sister and her friend came to visit me and they overnighted in my house. I was very happy that they came to visit me. The pleasure of their companionship is something that I longed and needed, especially in this difficult time where I’m still struggling to cope with my new environment and drastic changes.

When I was younger, I never did see eye to eye with my sister. Apparently, I was a jealous monster who wanted my parents to myself and therefore did not have any common ground with her. But I came to realize that we both grew up and became more mature and wiser, and come to care about each other unconditionally.

Anyway, let’s cut the story short. My sister came to visit with her friend, and I tried my best to be a good hostess. I cooked dinner for them and bought supper, and I bet they’re stuffed.

I realized that it takes so little to make me happy and blush to the root of my hair. I did not expect them to thank me or to help me out with the househole chores, but they did. My sister complimented me, saying that I’m a good cook, and the dishes are delicious and thanked me over and over again for the troubles that I put myself through to make them feel comfortable and welcomed in my home.

Same goes with her friend. They both thanked me, complimented me profusely, and I felt that even if they’re lying and just trying to be polite about me being a good cook and the dishes that I prepared actually tasted like ash, I don’t give a damn, because their words boosts my confidence and make me feel appreciated. These two feelings, happened to be something that is quite rare for me, and I haven’t felt it for a very long time.

My sister and her friend not only fed my ego last Friday, but they also offered to help me with my mundane chores. Though I appreciate their offer, I did not accept their help, because just by asking me if I needed help, is more than enough for me to feel happy to do things for them.

My sister also told me when we’re alone that even though I am not perfect, I am strong, and did great job with many things. She said, I did great job in raising my family and taking care of them. Those words almost undone me and made me cry out of happiness. I don’t care if she’s lying about it too. It made me feel good. She made me feel that it is okay to be human. To make mistakes, to feel tired and not be perfect. She made me feel loved and cared, even though she did not do much.

Both of them are two people that I will always welcome in my home. At least, these two are not like any some other ‘guests’ that came to my house. While I welcome them into my house with open arms, I do not appreciate that they criticize on how I run my family and on whether I clean up the house til squeaky clean, or whether I do my bloody laundry every goddamn day or not.

Who gave them the bloody rights to critisize on what me and my husband should and should not do or how we decided to run the family? Just because they are older, does that means it makes them always right and know better than us? Who gave them bloody rights to tell us what to do?

I don’t care if they are older than me or not, and we as younger people are suppose to give them face and respect them and say yes to whatever they say like some mentally retarded dog.

It is simply rude to go into people’s house and critisize people, and tell people’s children or the parent’s what they should and should not do with their child. IT IS SIMPLY RUDE. look up in the dictionary if you don’t understand what rude meant.

I am sure you don’t know what it meant, because only uncivillized people stepped into people’s house, look around and then tell them to follow your advice or rather, orders.

I’m telling you, you have no manners…and even if you talked in a language that you thought I could not understand to my other half. You think you’re bloody brilliant? You are wrong. I understood, even though I pretended stupid and not understand a word. I resent everything you told us, and everything you said.

One should also not concern themselves about other’s parenting skills when they themselves are not perfect either. I call that the pot calling the kettle black. I saw flaws in other people’s parenting skills too when I go to people’s house. Their kids are rude and messy too.

And their house would make a French maid runs back to France in fright. But I don’t go around telling them what to do. I don’t tell them to clean up, or tell their children to behave, even though they are my kin or immediate relative.

I held my tongue. Because to me, whatever people want to do in their house, and how they decided to raise their brats, is none of my concern. Even if I care for their well being, their hygiene or even their academic achievements, I don’t see any harm in allowing people to be imperfect and learn not to make mistakes on their own.

Apart from that, I was raised by my family to mind my manners when I go to other people’s house, and it does not matter if they are older or younger than me. It is just too bad that others do not have half of my upbringing to at least mind their own business or look into their own faults first before condemning others.

Cleffairy: I hope I can send all chauvinistic pigs to the gallows…then I’ll be at peace with myself.

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I’m not so sweet anymore…

I changed so much over the years since I finished high school. I dare to bet that my high school friends can tell me to my face that they do not know me anymore. From a sweet, forgiving, naive girl who can easily tolerate anyone around her, I become a witch who is ill tempered and have distrust on everyone who crossed my path. It takes so little to anger me. It takes so less to displease and to hold grudges against others. Resentments bottles up, and I doubt anyone can do anything about it to make it go away.

Those changes are not good, I know, but I can’t help it. My environment shaped me into what I am today. And I can’t honestly say that my environment after I left home is all good and positive. My parents sheltered me. I used to have a perfect happy family. I was a daughter. An apple to my parents’ eyes.

But I learn that not everyone have good parents like mine who protects me from the dangers outside, and eventually, I discovered that I’m stuck with people whose background is not as good as mine, and if I want to stick around with them, I’ll have to change to adapt. I did not want to change. But then again, I have to. To survive.

Fiend and friends alike analyzed me. Both parties said the same thing. Both agrees that I became a bitter person because I have been hurt. A year ago, if one told me that, I would adamantly deny their allegations. But today, as much as I refuse to admit that I have been somehow hurt in some ways, I have too, because I am not that happy with myself, with what I am today. This is not what I envisioned myself to be 10 years ago.

10 years ago, I was full of dreams and hope, but today, nothing seems to go right. I am not what I had hoped myself to be when I was younger. It never crossed my mind that I will be a failure in many ways. Yes, that is what I am. A failure. A big one at that. I have disappoint my younger self. And nothing can change that, unless I start to put myself first before others. And start to love myself first before I love others. The fire made me see that. Somehow, I am glad it happened as it seems to burn away things so that I could see clearer.

I know I’m fooling around with my own doom when I give up my own hopes and dreams in order to help others achieve theirs. But then again, why am I still doing it? Because I have to? Because I have no choice? Because I am forced to do so? No. It’s because somehow, a part of that innocent, selfless girl who used to be me still haven’t completely die. She’s still there, somewhere, waiting to emerge once again, but have been successfully suppressed by her environment.

This will be a weird entry, but I need to do this in order to understand myself again, because sometimes, when I woke up in the morning or looked into the mirror, I don’t feel like I know who I am anymore. I changed too much.

What can I do to be that sweet girl again? I don’t have any answer for that. I feel that I’ve changed too much and it is too late for me to turn back. But perhaps, being happy is a good start. And loving myself first before loving others would make me feel more at ease with myself and stop myself from holding grudges with other people. I don’t know what I should do to make me feel more confident and comfortable with myself, cuz it’s been destroyed for so long.

I can only say one thing to all of you though, before you become like me, turning into someone you cannot even recognize in the mirror; Love yourself first before you love others. Do something to make yourself happy, because unhappiness can destroy so many things. And instead of following what other people tell you to do because they thought it is right for you, follow your heart and your instinct. That, my blogger friends, could at least preserve the good part of you and prevent yourself from turning into such an ill-tempered witch like me.

Cleffairy: If I love myself a little bit more, it does not mean I love you less.

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I'm not so sweet anymore…

I changed so much over the years since I finished high school. I dare to bet that my high school friends can tell me to my face that they do not know me anymore. From a sweet, forgiving, naive girl who can easily tolerate anyone around her, I become a witch who is ill tempered and have distrust on everyone who crossed my path. It takes so little to anger me. It takes so less to displease and to hold grudges against others. Resentments bottles up, and I doubt anyone can do anything about it to make it go away.

Those changes are not good, I know, but I can’t help it. My environment shaped me into what I am today. And I can’t honestly say that my environment after I left home is all good and positive. My parents sheltered me. I used to have a perfect happy family. I was a daughter. An apple to my parents’ eyes.

But I learn that not everyone have good parents like mine who protects me from the dangers outside, and eventually, I discovered that I’m stuck with people whose background is not as good as mine, and if I want to stick around with them, I’ll have to change to adapt. I did not want to change. But then again, I have to. To survive.

Fiend and friends alike analyzed me. Both parties said the same thing. Both agrees that I became a bitter person because I have been hurt. A year ago, if one told me that, I would adamantly deny their allegations. But today, as much as I refuse to admit that I have been somehow hurt in some ways, I have too, because I am not that happy with myself, with what I am today. This is not what I envisioned myself to be 10 years ago.

10 years ago, I was full of dreams and hope, but today, nothing seems to go right. I am not what I had hoped myself to be when I was younger. It never crossed my mind that I will be a failure in many ways. Yes, that is what I am. A failure. A big one at that. I have disappoint my younger self. And nothing can change that, unless I start to put myself first before others. And start to love myself first before I love others. The fire made me see that. Somehow, I am glad it happened as it seems to burn away things so that I could see clearer.

I know I’m fooling around with my own doom when I give up my own hopes and dreams in order to help others achieve theirs. But then again, why am I still doing it? Because I have to? Because I have no choice? Because I am forced to do so? No. It’s because somehow, a part of that innocent, selfless girl who used to be me still haven’t completely die. She’s still there, somewhere, waiting to emerge once again, but have been successfully suppressed by her environment.

This will be a weird entry, but I need to do this in order to understand myself again, because sometimes, when I woke up in the morning or looked into the mirror, I don’t feel like I know who I am anymore. I changed too much.

What can I do to be that sweet girl again? I don’t have any answer for that. I feel that I’ve changed too much and it is too late for me to turn back. But perhaps, being happy is a good start. And loving myself first before loving others would make me feel more at ease with myself and stop myself from holding grudges with other people. I don’t know what I should do to make me feel more confident and comfortable with myself, cuz it’s been destroyed for so long.

I can only say one thing to all of you though, before you become like me, turning into someone you cannot even recognize in the mirror; Love yourself first before you love others. Do something to make yourself happy, because unhappiness can destroy so many things. And instead of following what other people tell you to do because they thought it is right for you, follow your heart and your instinct. That, my blogger friends, could at least preserve the good part of you and prevent yourself from turning into such an ill-tempered witch like me.

Cleffairy: If I love myself a little bit more, it does not mean I love you less.

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I’m not so sweet anymore…

I changed so much over the years since I finished high school. I dare to bet that my high school friends can tell me to my face that they do not know me anymore. From a sweet, forgiving, naive girl who can easily tolerate anyone around her, I become a witch who is ill tempered and have distrust on everyone who crossed my path. It takes so little to anger me. It takes so less to displease and to hold grudges against others. Resentments bottles up, and I doubt anyone can do anything about it to make it go away.

Those changes are not good, I know, but I can’t help it. My environment shaped me into what I am today. And I can’t honestly say that my environment after I left home is all good and positive. My parents sheltered me. I used to have a perfect happy family. I was a daughter. An apple to my parents’ eyes.

But I learn that not everyone have good parents like mine who protects me from the dangers outside, and eventually, I discovered that I’m stuck with people whose background is not as good as mine, and if I want to stick around with them, I’ll have to change to adapt. I did not want to change. But then again, I have to. To survive.

Fiend and friends alike analyzed me. Both parties said the same thing. Both agrees that I became a bitter person because I have been hurt. A year ago, if one told me that, I would adamantly deny their allegations. But today, as much as I refuse to admit that I have been somehow hurt in some ways, I have too, because I am not that happy with myself, with what I am today. This is not what I envisioned myself to be 10 years ago.

10 years ago, I was full of dreams and hope, but today, nothing seems to go right. I am not what I had hoped myself to be when I was younger. It never crossed my mind that I will be a failure in many ways. Yes, that is what I am. A failure. A big one at that. I have disappoint my younger self. And nothing can change that, unless I start to put myself first before others. And start to love myself first before I love others. The fire made me see that. Somehow, I am glad it happened as it seems to burn away things so that I could see clearer.

I know I’m fooling around with my own doom when I give up my own hopes and dreams in order to help others achieve theirs. But then again, why am I still doing it? Because I have to? Because I have no choice? Because I am forced to do so? No. It’s because somehow, a part of that innocent, selfless girl who used to be me still haven’t completely die. She’s still there, somewhere, waiting to emerge once again, but have been successfully suppressed by her environment.

This will be a weird entry, but I need to do this in order to understand myself again, because sometimes, when I woke up in the morning or looked into the mirror, I don’t feel like I know who I am anymore. I changed too much.

What can I do to be that sweet girl again? I don’t have any answer for that. I feel that I’ve changed too much and it is too late for me to turn back. But perhaps, being happy is a good start. And loving myself first before loving others would make me feel more at ease with myself and stop myself from holding grudges with other people. I don’t know what I should do to make me feel more confident and comfortable with myself, cuz it’s been destroyed for so long.

I can only say one thing to all of you though, before you become like me, turning into someone you cannot even recognize in the mirror; Love yourself first before you love others. Do something to make yourself happy, because unhappiness can destroy so many things. And instead of following what other people tell you to do because they thought it is right for you, follow your heart and your instinct. That, my blogger friends, could at least preserve the good part of you and prevent yourself from turning into such an ill-tempered witch like me.

Cleffairy: If I love myself a little bit more, it does not mean I love you less.

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