case of the ex

After my tutoring session last night, my student’s grandmother shared a delightful anecdote from her past. We were talking about names when she told me that, during her pregnancy with her only child, her late husband insisted on naming the baby *Alex, regardless of gender. His reason? It was the name of his high school sweetheart. Being young and easygoing, she agreed, and their daughter was named Alex.

Looking back, she finds it all a bit strange. She chuckled and shook her head in disbelief as she told the story. “After 40 years,” she said, “all you can do is laugh.” I couldn’t help but joke, “Well, at least whenever you’re annoyed with your daughter, you’ve got an extra reason to frown at her name.”

Her story got me thinking about exes. Oddly enough, I seem to get along famously with my boyfriends’ former girlfriends. I suppose the ex and I usually have one thing in common: excellent taste in men (or at least one man). One of my close friends, in fact, is my high school boyfriend’s ex. I met TL after their breakup, because I was his friend before they dated. I ditched the boy but kept the friendship with the girl. As my relationship with him fizzled, our bond only grew stronger, especially once we found ourselves throwing darts at the same photo.

I’ve connected with most of the exes and had a few meaningful chats, though there’s usually a hint of awkwardness, a half-smile, a soft cough, a quiet nod to shared history. The one exception is TL. With her, there was no tension - just an easy, natural friendship.

red wine

Last Friday, RD took me to a posh wine bar post-dinner, where we engaged in playful banter over a glass of red wine. He chose a light one for me, knowing my alcohol tolerance is comically low. My cheeks warmed, and I felt giddy, laughing more than usual.

As we stepped outside, rain began to pour. We sprinted half a block before I started gasping for air, my chest aching. Under one umbrella, I leaned against him, my heart racing and eyelids drooping, feeling like I was having a mini-heart attack. I needed to sit down, just to catch my breath, and told him I simply wanted to sleep.

He panicked, calling my name repeatedly, giving me water and hugging me tightly. In my dreamy state, I mused that dying in his arms wouldn’t be the worst way to go.  After a few minutes, the spinning stopped and I sobered up.

Moral of the story: do not drink and run.

my two cents

Lately, I’ve become more conscious of my money, especially with some recent lifestyle transitions. My full-time student status has significantly curbed my spending tendencies. Money's presence often goes unnoticed until my wallet becomes lighter; that's when its absence feels heavier than a bag of coins.

My parents are generous people, so money has never been an issue at home. I was raised with the mentality of "money comes, money goes." It’s similar to the concept of good and bad karma (something I don’t buy into). In my naivety, I believed that if you gave to someone, someone else would give back to you. It was a natural money cycle that God invented to keep us balanced. It didn’t mean that I expected my generosity to be reciprocated, but that false assurance funded my social charities. 

I understood the value of money at a young age and knew how to manage my finances. I could easily treat a friend to a meal just out of courtesy or give an acquaintance some cash if they were short (have you noticed how some people never have cash on them and are always looking for an ATM?). I was happy to cover parking and petrol fees even though I drove everyone there. I didn’t hesitate to lend people money and trusted that they would remember to return it as soon as possible.

Resentment built up over the years. In high school, a classmate (we weren’t friends) asked me for a pacer lead because she ran out. Since I was well-stocked with stationery, I became her silent supplier. I gave her two leads, one for the road. She probably took that as an invitation to unlimited lead sponsorship because, for the rest of that year, she didn’t bother buying her own and relied on me for pacer leads. I figured that she was from a poor family because why would any loving parent deprive their child of pacer leads? 

I also had a series of books that I lent out to friends, creating my own little library. My zealous spirit encouraged others to share my passion. My bookworm alter ego wanted to recruit readers to join my three-member book club (the other two members are still my best friends to this day). Those so-called friends did not take care of my precious books, and more often than not, the books came back used and abused, stained and shredded. It was beyond me how that could happen since I covered them with clear contact and also a plastic jacket for extra protection. It broke my heart every time one of my babies came back damaged. It still hurts when I think of it now. 

I loved giving presents. I was excited to buy close friends gifts on their birthdays and Christmas, even though it wasn't mutual. It didn't bother me because it made me feel good to give, but it hurt me when I caught them re-gifting. (Who are all these horrible people, and why was/am I still friends with them?! Ha.)  

Because I was kind to my friends, I was compensated with loving boyfriends who made it their business to spoil me rotten. (Please refer to the money cycle theory.)  

Recently, my laidback attitude shifted into bitter gear. Now, I am careful with my money, reserving my generosity for the less fortunate and those who deserve it. I also avoid lending out small notes because they seem to vanish into thin air. A dozen of the $5 notes can add up to a nice skirt. I dislike owing people money or anything for that matter. I don’t understand how some people can just sit on this burden and delay loan repayments. Out of all of my friends, I know who is flexible with money and who isn’t, and it’s just a personality flaw that I have to accept.  

Though, I get along better with friends who have better things to do than count every cent. You can tell that you’re close to someone when there is no need to split the bill. “I’ll take it this time, you can cover the next tab.” No big deal. Trust. Honesty. For those who are more comfortable paying individually, I’m not going to fight it. Sorry folks, I’m not a walking ATM and I have a mortgage to pay.

status king

Facebook is an excellent tool for networking and staying in touch with people. I use it to tag photos and organise events. My favourite feature is the status update, and it annoys me when people misuse it. Reflecting on my life, I have to say that being crowned the Facebook Status Queen was my greatest achievement. They even sent me a t-shirt with my winning status update.