Rendezvous
27 March 06 : 02.26 PM
Saturday felt like four different days.
First, it was spending time with Desiree and Min, shopping and talking and laughing and never running out of conversation. It was what prompted Raymond to say that we acted as if we haven't seen each other for years. We shopped for pretty dresses (I got my babydoll one), had turkey ham and smoked salmon, and lost track of time.
I learned that new friends are great, except, they get better when we can no longer label them new.
Then, when Desiree left, I dragged Min along for dinner with Raymond, Jack and Michael. We had a seafood dinner along Boat Quay, and after, Raymond (who is always a gentleman) drove Min home. Boat Quay smelled exactly like heartbreak-- like when I had my heart broken for the first time. Although I remember the feeling then, walking down the row of shophouses where music escaped and interfused with the night breeze, Saturday night's feeling was not directly linked to anyone, not the one who broke my heart, just the past.
I learned that broken hearts are terrible things, but they heal and scars do nothing but signify a part of you that has mended.
After dropping Min off at her place, Raymond drove me to meet Sam, Christy and Sylvia at about 11pm. We hung out at Starbucks, and got free coffee and cakes. We tried to take pictures but somehow we ended up looking retarded and pasty so we deleted them all; we blame late nights and bad lighting at Starbucks. After that, Royce came to pick me and my Green Tea Frappuccino Blended Crème with Melon Syrup up, and headed for Velvet Underground.
I learned that friendships, in all its caprice and volatility, do sustain.
What I learned then, with them, I learn it too with Royce. We've known each other since I was 13. Then, he wrote me notes and birthday cards, until we became real friends that we dropped these formalities. We would hang out at his place, or my place, at school, after school, together with Nicole and Desmond. I miss how he used to make me laugh so much I turn strawberry and dizzy.
In Velvet Underground, with Royce and his friends, I sat there looking at the dancefloor where it was packed with people in their thirties. First focus; a tall, slender woman in a white bare-backed top and tight jeans. She was dancing, with sinuous grace and sex-appeal, and I thought, this must be the confidence that comes with age, that is lacking is younger girls. That is why, those youngish parties organized by just legal teens for barely legal teens, where those on the dancefloor are awkward or cocksure (yet with no substance), are such amazing flops. Second focus; a woman dancing awkwardly like a teenager, with no sense of rhythm or whatsoever, moving to a beat that didn't belong to the music. I guess women will be teenagers.
I learned at any age, I'm still gonna be the same person I am now, not more mature, not smarter, just more assured.
And four different lessons.