10 reasons why Bear bear Pato is the love of my life!

10. Bear bear Pato pulls off rainbow colors without looking tacky (to me..)

9. Bear bear Pato is cute even tho he's got a beer belly

8. Bear bear Pato doesn't fart when I hug time tightly! (Oops, tmi) 

7. Bear bear Pato doesn't mind taking selfies with me (I think...)

6. Bear bear Pato hugs me to sleep every night (I'm delusional)

5. Bear bear Pato wipes away my tears (not much of a choice?)

4. Bear bear Pato is a great listener

3. Bear bear Pato is always waiting for me when I get home

2. Bear bear Pato always smiles at me, no matter how I scold him

1. Bear bear Pato is physically here with me everyday

I miss you, love.

#butfirstletmetakeaselfie

Night 5: The Start

It hurts so bad.
The pain is totally unbearable.
Every step that I take makes me wince.
I can't walk straight with the pain.

I did 10 squats in the morning before going to work.
And I ran/hobbled/walked 1.5 kilometers last night.

PAINNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

I'm truly a lembik taufoo.
And this taufoo miss youuuuuu.

Ok I admit I did tear a bit when saying goodnight to you.

But seriously that car alarm which did not get shut down for 30 minutes really got on my nerve!!!
I even fell asleep without knowing when it was eventually done.

Exercise is good. It makes me tired and pushes my body out of its unhealthy comfort zone.
And it makes me sleep easier too.

My thighs are still hurting. *moans*
If you were here I'd want piggy-backs everywhere...and snuggles, and cuddles, and everything lah.

Love you! End of Night 5 of 115. Come on!

Night 3: Iron Man and Moi

Yup, I watched Iron Man 1 and Iron Man 2.
Hated the kiss kiss scene at the end of Iron Man 2. Made me mish you soooo bad.

And yeah, I still cried quite a bit last night.

Ok let me dig out the source of why I'd burst into a waterfall:

1) The nights
Why are the nights the most unbearable? Because we've been physically seeing each other for almost every night since 16 months ago. Seeing through screen totally sucks.

2) Changes
For example yesterday when the fat woman moved the room around and removed the bedding from your bed. But worst of all, she folded the card you left for me. I know, its not a big deal, but the significance of that card to me is so great that I was totally crushed when I saw a nasty fold in the card.

3) Talking about you
When friends ask me how I'm doing, and I'm not doing well. This should get better in like, half a year?

4) Missing you exchanges
When we chat and we start missing each other and everything we'd usually do.
These can range from a slight sniffle-trickle, to a whole electric storm.

But anyway, that was the end of Night 3 without you. Perhaps it was Iron Man, but I went to sleep a little faster. Shall note it as a way to cope. Hmm.

Night 2: A chikopeh, drinks, and clubbing (I tried)

For every alternate "mope" post, I will HOPE to have a "positive" post.
I have to, if not this blog will be so damn gloomy and pathetic, and so will I.

Hence, as it was Friday, the solution I turned to, to cure my gloom, or so I thought, was Mr. Booze.

It was actually a forced client dinner-drinks-social thing which my manager, R, conned me into attending with his message:

"...so I confirmed that both of us are going, so don't say no ok? Hahahahahaha...."

Erm. Moron????

But anyway, if I hadn't gone, I would have been cowering in my room and crying my eyes out, so I went. I did not dress up. I did not feel like it.

We went to Hooters, seriously, Hooters. Le Sigh.
Skimpily dressed girls with WTF bodies, you could see the muffin tops begging to be released from those uniforms! I felt sorry for the girls who allowed their butt cheeks to be so scantily exposed. Then I also found out, from my chikopeh client, B, that Oh! The girls come from many places! Philippines, Vietnam, China, were the few that were interrogated when they served our beers.

As it turned out, there were only 3 of us there, my manager, R, the client, B, and moi. Epic. Stuck with two guys, drinking, on a Friday night. Awkward. Well, I was the lead of the project. So I had no real reason to back out. But hurrah, luckily for me, the client remembered the prior years' leads and asked if they were also available to join us for drinks. One was a girl, the other, not. And both agreed. GOOD.

Hence the party now had, my manager, R, the client, B, prior year girl lead, WX, prior year guy lead, J, and moi.

I had 3 Coronas, and an Erdinger. Whoopee.

During the drinking session, a member of the party casually hinted that a visit to a nightclub was necessary in order for the client to experience a fulfilling night enjoying what Singapore had to offer. Being the chikopeh client, the suggestion was made for Shanghai Dolly.

We entered the club and my manager paid for a bottle of Chivas, which pained WX who then ordered another two bottles of the same stuff and paid it herself, I felt guilty but I was already dead broke for the month after some instant-gratification purchases which I don't regret (Haha!). I never did get to see us finish the three bottles, only managed to see 1.5 bottles get drained.

I have to mention: I suck when drinks get mixed, like different beers, and beers with whisky, etc.

Hammered or not, I managed to find my way home after getting myself released from the grasp of the chikopeh client, a totally challenging ordeal.

Still managed to whatsapp the boyfie, got to see a glimpse of him through a lousier-than-thou connection and then cried myself to sleep. Seriously. I need to get a grip. Ugh.

End of Night 2 of 115. I miss you, my love.

Grateful

He's landed safely at Dubai.

For this I am grateful, for this I am cheered, though only slightly, but cheered nonetheless.

Je t'aime bien. <3

Night 1

The night has passed.

One of the most difficult nights that I've ever had to weather through. 

Seeing you with your luggage, seeing you check-in, seeing you enter that departure hall, seeing you stand at the customs counter, seeing you wave me goodbye, seeing you walk towards gate A11.

Going home without you was worse, getting down those steps alone, getting into the elevator alone, getting myself into the house alone, getting into our room alone, getting into bed alone.

I'm so sorry I couldn't hold back my tears, it began trickling as soon as I saw you turn after your last goodbye wave. The trickle turned to a endless gush once I got into the taxi. And though I wanted to stop when you FaceTime-d me, I couldn't. I'm sorry. 

The tears just kept racing down my face like an endless waterfall, I have no idea where the supply came from, I have no idea where the strength to cry came from, nor do I know where sleep was hiding, it might have been sick of my wails, as the thing I knew, it punched me in the face and knocked me out.

I awoke at 7.45am without the help of the alarm that Siri set for me, as that damned piece of technology ran out of charge during the night. 

I felt like a robot, going through the motions, knowing where you'd be if you were around, placing you in the room with my imagination, and erasing you to accept that you weren't there.

I miss you so much that it hurts so bad. Night 1 of 115 has passed. I will look to this Day 1 without you with the objective of survival, to survive this day without too many tears, without too many falls.

The aircraft you're in is probably about to begin it's descend into Doha. I just passed Orchard MRT.