Chapter 34
34
Monday 27 June
So yesterday Eric and I *grin emoji* were just lounging around in his home bowling alley (I know), having gone through just about every position known to man, when he turned his sexy dad bod to me, kissed me on my nose, and said, softly, “I really like you, Andrea.”
“Oh,” I said, pretending to pull on my clothes. “I assumed that was how you treat all your mortal enemies. I’ll go now.”
He did not laugh. “Wait, what?” he said. Honestly, sometimes it was disconcerting how little he got my sense of humor.
“I’m kidding.”
“Oh.” He still looked perplexed.
“You were saying, about how likable I am?” I prompted, trying to re-create that moment of intimacy.
“Yes, and what do you think about me?”
“You’re acceptable.”
He smacked my bum. The plush, special acoustic panels absorbed the sound. Ah, to be so rich.
“No, really,” I cleared my throat and avoided meeting his eyes. “I think I like you, too.”
“Good,” he said, looking relieved. “I thought you would start laughing in my face. You’re so wonderful.”
“What?!” I blurted, before bursting into laughter. “Stop yanking my chain!”
“I’m sorry?” The same perplexed look.
“I mean, stop joking.”
“But you are, and the crazy thing is, you’re so hard on yourself. Don’t you know how beautiful and smart and exuberant and put-together and—”
“Shuudddddup,” I said, getting embarrassed.
“You’re amazing,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. And something else extremely naughty. Yum.
“I’ve never had a guy compliment me so much after sex. Usually they just escape,” I deadpanned. “The perks of going out with an older guy, eh?”
He did not laugh. “So it’s official then, we’re going out together?” Eric asked, looking strangely vulnerable.
“Er, yes? I mean, yes!”
He gave me a long, searching kiss. “Then I’m glad.”
Thursday 30 June
7:35 a.m.
Eric left this morning to go on another weeklong business trip to Beijing, after we had spent the last few nights together. (He would pick me up after work and bring me back straight to his place, skipping dinner entirely. *ahem*)
I have to say, I’m
so
glad to be done with dating in general. And not just by hooking up with any average Joe: I was dating Eric Deng, the ultimate trophy man, the Birkin of Boyfriends, the kind of man the Chairman page of annual reports for a Fortune 500 was designed for! And I wouldn’t even be his second wife! I mean, if he decides to put a ring on it one day, I would be his starter spouse! An older, but still much younger (than him) starter spouse! I was
finally
winning in the Game of Life. Not only was my career (semi) back on track, but I had landed a man who was every Asian Tiger Mom’s wet dream for a son-in-law.
8:02 a.m.
Yuck, the words “wet dream” and “son-in-law” should never,
ever
be uttered in the same sentence.
11:15 a.m.
Idly, I flicked open
TLTS
to see what Suresh— I mean, to see what Water was up to. Things were coming to a head with Water and Rhean. Their energy as a vigilante couple was explosive, and things were getting out of hand. A lot of collateral damage was happening in their kills. They weren’t trying to contain themselves. It was as though their pent-up desire for each other was making them act recklessly in other areas of their lives.
I checked out
TLTS
’s follower count and was staggered to see it was now hovering at close to 150K.
Friday 1 July
Jason came over to survey the apartment before moving in; he wanted to see if he could get rid of any of his stuff if needed.
I asked him how much space he would need as Linda’s belongings still littered half of the living room.
“I have a desk, a chair, a small box of kitchen utensils, and maybe two large suitcases and a carryall. That’s it.”
I begged him to simplify my life. He handed me a book from his backpack. “Read this. I was going to bring it over to Linda’s the next time I see her, but you can have it first.”
“
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up
,” I read, in a voice laced with skepticism. “By Marie Kondo. What, I can’t just chuck stuff in a drawer? Dude, this looks hard.”
“Hey, there are no shortcuts to enlightenment. Face it: everything in life involves work.”
I fought the urge to kick him in the shins.
We celebrated by having a boozeless dinner à deux (takeaway
pizzas from a nearby pizzeria). After we were done, he cleared the table and shooed me away when I offered to help with the washing up. Then he made us both rooibos tea and we watched a Steven Seagal movie. It was all very civil and pleasant, until I heard the door open.
“Hello, chickadees, guess who?” a familiar voice crowed. My heart sank. It was Linda. I had almost forgotten she still had the spare key to my apartment. She walked over and plopped herself down on the couch between me and Jason.
“What are you doing here?” I protested. “I
just
got rid of you.”
She shrugged with a “Who, me?” expression. “I needed to get the rest of my things, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, but I
said
I’d call you and arrange a time.”
“No time better than the present.” She gave Jason a long kiss. “Did my little kitty miss me?” she mock-growled.
“I sure did,” he said. He was stroking her face. “God, you have such good skin.”
I sighed. “Please go to her place. I have thin walls.”
They ignored me.
I went to the office. It was safer that way. I was already regretting asking him to move in.
Saturday 2 July
9:45 a.m.
Turns out I didn’t really have to regret for long.
I woke up to a loud banging on the door.
Opened it to find Linda, who had, it turns out, accidentally left her key at my place yesterday. She was wearing a white strapless sundress, a straw fedora, and slip-on Avarcas, an ensemble that only looked good on girls or women built like her. It is very
annoying. Especially when she was up so early on a weekend and forcing me to join her on the bright side.
“Guess what?” she sang, dancing past me into my apartment.
“What?” I muttered, slamming the door and plodding in after her.
“Jason agreed to move in with me!” she chirped.
“What?” I said again, flabbergasted. Didn’t he
just
agree to move in—with me? Or had I just dreamed that it happened? “Why?”
“Why not?” she asked. “We already spend all our waking hours together at mine or at yours anyway.”
“Right. For all of one week since you started shagging. Solid decision to move in together immediately, of course, but who cares what I think. So when is he moving out, if he hasn’t already?”
“In three days’ time.”
Efficiency, thy name is Linda’s Vagina.
“And this way, I cancel the security subscription that I signed up for, and Daddy can restore my Centurion card.”
Ah, two birds with one stone: money-saving Chinese-lady logic. I couldn’t argue with that. “Congratulations,” I said in reference to the restoration of her good fortune, giving her a hug.
“Thanks,” she said, grinning. Then her face grew serious. “I mean it. For everything. For Jason, especially.”
“I didn’t do anything in that respect,” I said, with false modesty. I totally made them happen.
“You totally made it happen,” she said, because she was perceptive and we’d been friends for a long time. “Jason is a sweetheart. Before Jason, I was a mess when it came to dating—I couldn’t see it, I know, but I was.”
“I could see it,” I quipped. “You were the biggest self-sabotager I’d ever met. You had the worst taste in men. The worst.”
“Shut up.
Fine
, I’ll admit that I have a
slight
predilection of dating men who just didn’t want me enough, men who weren’t available, in some toxic way mirroring my own daddy issues, maybe.”
“You said it, not me.”
She made a face. “God, I hate being a cliché, but then there must be some truth in how these clichés come into existence. Anyway, that phase of my life is over. I’m so glad to be done with toxic men.”
I thought about Eric Deng. “You know what? It pains me to say this, Linda, but you’ve inspired me to do the same.”
“Eric Deng?” she said, eyebrow raised. “Well, it’s official now, ain’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, blushing.
“Great. Then it’s time he met the Don.”
In case you didn’t catch that reference, dear Diary, she means herself.