I signed up for a one month account at one of the online dating websites, under the coercion of a coworker and curious about how things would be like.

Things went just as I imagine. I am now trying very hard to make my one month membership worthwhile by aspiring to reply to every single email that comes my way and proactively surfing other people’s profiles even though it’s quite a boring thing to do after going through 10 of 50 pages.

I am still up to no good. I will come back with more tales to tell after I am over and done with.

I remembered refreshing the screen first thing in the morning two months ago when the tickets were first released for purchases on Sistic’s website. How could I miss the one chance I might have to see Broken Social Scene in Singapore live? Yesterday, I found myself waiting outside the Esplanade Concert Hall in silent anticipation. I was a little disappointed that Feist, Amy Millan, Emily Haines are absent from the gig even though I know that there is almost zero chance of having all three of them appear on the same stage unless it was manipulated by Providence’s very own hands.



But it was an awesome two hours. Propelled by the band members who did come, we stood on our ground, rocking to their music. There were times we lost ourselves to the flow and forgot everything around us. At that moment, I gave my whole, undivided attention to the guitars that were waved in the air, the drums that resonated their sullen thoughts,  the performers who leaped through the air to shake the earth and the one strong voice in the midst who broke through my defense. I could listen forever to that voice that sings to me.So we wondered after the gig, what it feels like to be in a band. How does it feel like to know you have the power to influence people in that way – to lead the crowds, to break new grounds, to connect the differences? Is that why people become groupies? To share a part of the fame that could be addictive? To unravel the mystery of the charismatic performers who seem to transit between a god-like status on stage and adopt a humanly form off it? 

The beauty of this band or at least its greatest appeal to me is that it is made up of successful individuals who are parts of other projects and yet care enough to come together in a fun manner to form a collective cognition we know as the “Broken Social Scene“. It does not restrict the band members from experimenting new grounds and going forth in different directions. It encourages free expression but does not expect you to return. But when you do, it will be there.

Plugging Mosaic Music Festival for bringing some of my favourite artistes to Singapore

I am unbelievably sad.

The neighbour has been and is still butchering some well-loved classic tunes for the past two and a half hours. I could never think of them without invoking memories of this horrific moment again.

Can we ever be patient enough to wait for the right one to come along? Or are we the impatient, the scared, the pessimistic to think that if we do not grab hold of whatever we have, it may never come along our way again? Cast in a world as dynamic as today where the only constant is change, it’s not hard to feel alienated when you are alone by choice or otherwise.

People are together for different reasons – being truly in Love, out of habits, premarital “accidents” and I cannot continue enough to demonstrate the environment, the timing, the fate, the family, the hundred and one reasons that could possibly bind two with a matrimonial loop. But I know there are some living off a borrowed sense of security by being with another, as if their sense of self-worth is established by being “Married” and diminished the moment their marital status reverts back to an unsightly “Single”. Even “Divorced” is more preferable as it indicates having a previous experience of “togetherness” even if it was in the past. Being single makes one persona non grata, if not in physical proximity with the rest, at least in emotions.

To list an example, I was feeling rather disturbed when I visited a new mother at her ward a month back. In the company of married couples, it is not difficult to observe that I am the single disruptive cause to the pattern regularity of relationships in the room. Even though unintentional, the visitors arrived in pairs and stayed that way while crowding around the bed. If I exit and look upon the sight, it was a blissful one – a happy new mother and a grateful new father makes a pair, four pairs of married couples coo-ing over the new baby and another pair fully intent on hopping onto the big matrimonial bandwagon in October.

I am much comforted to know that some couples who are my friends make efforts to be sure that I am not subjected to exclusivity when it comes to outings and dinners but it could be very haunting to be asked on a girls’ night out. The topics that appeared common to them are strangers to me. As they broached on subjects about the cheapest bedsheets in town, the most value-for-money household objects and embarked on an analysis of husbandry behaviourism, i squirmed in my seat never feeling so quite so ignorant. It is not the worst when you feel left out in conversations like this but it is a total horror when all pairs of eyes decide to focus on me and my lack of a partner.

“When do you intend to find a partner?”

“Don’t you think it’s time?”

Knowing the questions were being asked out of concern or even bewilderment does not unnerve me one bit. In fact, I’ll sit and sip my lemon tea and give frozen answers that would stamp down this unwelcome topic in the most efficient manner. How do you explain that if you haven’t found someone, you haven’t found someone? However, what I cannot stand is the diplomatic look of obvious pity and the gentle suggestions that perhaps I should lower my standards since Time is running out on my side. The thing is … if I do not begrudge your couplehood, why do you try to make me resent my singledom? Can the Singles hear their convincing voices anymore seeing how they are drowned in the sea of silent disapproval and vocal exacerbations. Are the “Singles” of equal statuses nowadays as beggars on the streets, doled with sympathetic, understanding looks by the all-knowing couples who secretly questioned their disability to get attached?

Mothers and friends learn to scare young girls whose only aspiration in life is to find a suitable partner for a happily-ever-after.

“Don’t eat too much. You don’t want to get fat and end up unmarried like Auntie Marge.”

“Be more ladylike. Men like their women dainty.”

Since when did the “Single” become the big, bad wolf in the tale of “Little Red Wanna-Get-Married Riding Hood”?