I flirt via sms, way before Beckham did. I share my sms-es (those NOT sent by me) with friends in the know about my fatal relationships, way before those who bedded Beckham publicise theirs to the world. Hell, I even put some sms-es on this blog.
I hoard sms-es with glee when a particular person sends them, that I feel, are somewhat replete with innuendos of affection and desire. I keep them some dating to close to a year in different folders to read when I’m down and in doubt, when he’s not around, when I’m unhappy, when I think of someone else. I might have kept more but the early generation phones din allow for such luxury. I deleted a lot, a lot more when we were younger, when those were the real clinchers for hot and heavy txt. Now, we are subdued (us, me), flippant and ordinary-friendly (me), masculine and hateful (he), and taking it slowly (us, me, he).
I can keep entire conversations.
I don’t talk on the phone with him unless it is very serious (like he thinks he has been condemned and QCed), or I’m prompted to reply indignantly in a different mode because he sms-es much faster than I ever could. We don’t have the habit of emailing. We did ICQ but we realised ICQ was causing misunderstandings and rifts in the way it doesn’t seem to deliver crucial msgs at appropriate moments. It was somehow, has always been, sms-es that kept us involved. Sms is reliable and we (I mean, I) can keep them.
In moments of very childish pique and fit, I dun tear up letters. I delete his all numbers, ICQ msgs and sms-es. Which are of course, regrettably silly, meaningless gestures causing pain only to myself when I realised what I have lost (ahhh, evidence of whatever, whatever). I have since stopped doing that.
Evidence of what? I really don’t know what to say to this. But you know, like evidence of certain moods that I experience and evoke in another.
Meet me at Tampines after work.
Why are we going to Tampines?
I’ve never answered your questions on venue and I dun intend to explain. You will find out when we get there.
Okay lor. But obviously, I’m secretly pleased. What’s in store? But no speculations, I shall be good and pretend I’m unfazed and unvexed (which I’m not, anyhow) and un-curious. I will try not best not to spoil things as I’m bound to, when I get too flustered, panicky and attempt to bound.
一部怀旧的电影 淋湿了心情
你的爱还在旅行或已定居哪里
也许遗憾和年轻 总绑在一起
不容许一点委屈 等放手才懂惋惜
静下心来发现过去大半是甜蜜 回忆
我最快乐那一年 是你陪我经历一切
什么都生动又强烈 有真正在活着的感觉
我们最快乐的那一年 像浓缩了最精华的时间
短暂却永远是火焰 在情绪冰凉时暖和心田
I hoard sms-es with glee when a particular person sends them, that I feel, are somewhat replete with innuendos of affection and desire. I keep them some dating to close to a year in different folders to read when I’m down and in doubt, when he’s not around, when I’m unhappy, when I think of someone else. I might have kept more but the early generation phones din allow for such luxury. I deleted a lot, a lot more when we were younger, when those were the real clinchers for hot and heavy txt. Now, we are subdued (us, me), flippant and ordinary-friendly (me), masculine and hateful (he), and taking it slowly (us, me, he).
I can keep entire conversations.
I don’t talk on the phone with him unless it is very serious (like he thinks he has been condemned and QCed), or I’m prompted to reply indignantly in a different mode because he sms-es much faster than I ever could. We don’t have the habit of emailing. We did ICQ but we realised ICQ was causing misunderstandings and rifts in the way it doesn’t seem to deliver crucial msgs at appropriate moments. It was somehow, has always been, sms-es that kept us involved. Sms is reliable and we (I mean, I) can keep them.
In moments of very childish pique and fit, I dun tear up letters. I delete his all numbers, ICQ msgs and sms-es. Which are of course, regrettably silly, meaningless gestures causing pain only to myself when I realised what I have lost (ahhh, evidence of whatever, whatever). I have since stopped doing that.
Evidence of what? I really don’t know what to say to this. But you know, like evidence of certain moods that I experience and evoke in another.
Meet me at Tampines after work.
Why are we going to Tampines?
I’ve never answered your questions on venue and I dun intend to explain. You will find out when we get there.
Okay lor. But obviously, I’m secretly pleased. What’s in store? But no speculations, I shall be good and pretend I’m unfazed and unvexed (which I’m not, anyhow) and un-curious. I will try not best not to spoil things as I’m bound to, when I get too flustered, panicky and attempt to bound.
一部怀旧的电影 淋湿了心情
你的爱还在旅行或已定居哪里
也许遗憾和年轻 总绑在一起
不容许一点委屈 等放手才懂惋惜
静下心来发现过去大半是甜蜜 回忆
我最快乐那一年 是你陪我经历一切
什么都生动又强烈 有真正在活着的感觉
我们最快乐的那一年 像浓缩了最精华的时间
短暂却永远是火焰 在情绪冰凉时暖和心田
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