"Parting, ah, such sweet sorrow."

"Bye Love."

Like the precious petals strewn on a promising wedding march, carried by the slightest of draft, those words rang through the quiet of the night. It dissipated quickly but enough to unsettle me. I turned back and flashed my cynical smile. It's becoming a daily affair,this cynical flash. I don't like it.

I walked, not turning back to see if he was watching. I wanted the dark to engulf me and make us one. I exhaled a big sigh, a tired one. It is not fair that women feel so much more than men, carry a 9-month burden before the joy and yet are caretakers of their egos.

I looked out for him. I guess I was setting myself up for disappointment. I should have known better. But I felt for him - one could say, I love him, my sweet Valentine. I thought I was a superwoman, immune to the petty pangs of envy. I was his human shield - I thought I could withstand the battle and come out unscathed. It didn't matter - we were in it together. Little did I know that I was setting myself up for defeat because the enemy was not the others - it was himself.

So with grace only bestowed upon me by my Maker, I admit defeat, I lay my sword in surrender at his feet. I am only human, I cannot carry this on my shoulder, battling him and the others.

take up my sword left
at your feet, Lover
scar yourself if you must
someday
the sword may also part
the disappointment, that is now
in my heart

Petal P. Rose

Let's connect!

I signed myself up for an online dating service. Well, I’m not going to be coy about it – even an attractive girl like me, needs help.

Ok ok….this is something that’s not recent. I signed up years back, plotting revenge on an ex-boyfriend who had signed up there. Sorry, A – now you know. I did it out of spite, never intending to actually go out with any of the men off there. But I did – a few times.

For those of you who are totally not into this, this is the process:

1. Sign yourself up

Fill in the blanks. Age, stats, likes/dislikes, what sort of a person you want, etc, blah, blah, blah.

2. Submit a photo and an introduction of yourself plus what you want out of the guy, in detail.

These need to be approved by the site. In case you put up some pornographic pictures or some private information that is not allowed, though I think pornography will bring all the boys to the yard….

3. And then you wait.

I didn’t put up a picture then – of course not, I’m plotting revenge, remember? Before long I saw that some men were looking at my profile but no one sent me messages. It was cold out there in cyberspace. Then I thought, “Hmm…let’s put up a picture..” I did and that was when requests to chat starting coming in.

I chatted with a few of them. We got along well online so I decided to take the next plunge and meet some of them. Turned out to be TOTALLY anti-climatic. The men were like pieces of limp, dirty rags, with real personalities of nothingness. Most of them wanted to jump into bed, some too big for their own shoes (talking of ships when they are and will stay, mere sampans) and others, just plain, ugh!

I remember going to MOS with one of my dates. He was supposed to pick me up from my place. Michael, his name. He got lost and arrived an hour late. I saw his car and my heart sank immediately. It was a white, pseudo sports car – YUCK. I hate white cars and wannabes. But being of a generous soul, I bit back my instinct and swallowed the bile threatening to creep up my oesophagus. In the car, conversation was all about me! Me! ME! Not me, me. Him, him. My eyes watered and glazed over – he, no doubt, thought my shining eyes and attentive listening, signalled interest. I was more like, “What the fuck was I thinking?! I should have switched my mobile off and ran towards freedom!”

He knew the bartender at MOS and without asking my preference, ordered drinks for us. Some wussy mixer drink that was made extra strong, I suspect (at that time), to impress me. I wanted to move on to the dance floor but he insisted on another drink. Same wussy drink, down the hole. I had 2 drink coupons from the paid entry; I used one of it and started towards Smoove. It was crowded there, as I knew it would be. Holding the drink in my hand, I started moving to the beat. He excused himself to the toilet. I waited, enjoying myself, listening to the music. Seconds ticked by, then minutes, then more than 10 minutes. Concerned, I started ringing Michael’s number. It rang but he didn’t answer. Waited for a bit and rang. Again, no answer. Oh well, shit happens. So yes, I got “dumped” in the middle of the date. No big deal, I moved to the Main Area. Got myself another drink and brought it to the dance floor where I met 2 gorgissss Puerto Rican Melbournites, where we grooved the night away.

So it worked out in my favour. Michael sent me an sms the next day, saying that he went back to the car to rest and fell asleep. I suspect that his bravado drinking was to get me drunk – well, honey, I hold my drink well – can’t say the same about you, babe.

I am still subscribed to this online dating service. I’m just intrigued as to what drives these men to be “here”, wearing their hearts on their sleeves. I’ve since taken my photo off and changed the introduction bit. I don’t go out with strange men anymore – I can’t really be bothered to pretend to be interested. I do get the weekly updates of men who may be of interest to me but really, with their boring introductions of ** “I’m just a simple man looking…”, “shy when you first know me but chatty when I’m comfortable..” and “I’m kind, caring, understanding…” why would I bother? Which moron would go online saying that they are horny bastards? But really, how about something more than the ordinary? Tell us things we do not already know.

Petal P. Rose

**believe it or not, these are actual self introductions – totally not made up!

Disconnected...

I just started an art therapy course at LaSalle on Saturday afternoons - I'm the student, not the "teacher". Had my first lesson last Saturday. Highly awesome! Go do it!

We chose our own papers and choice of "tools". There were charcoal sticks, glitter, pastels, crayons, acrylic, etc etc. We each had our one minute of fame - we left a mark on each other's piece of paper. I felt like a naughty child. I could take whatever I wanted and deface that perfect piece of white. No one would know which mark I made, we were anonymous. Some of them felt a bit of stress because they felt that they needed to conform and follow the pattern. I, for one, didn't want to conform on purpose. I felt free. I could feel my heart racing, fingers numbed from the excitement of this unexpected naughtiness. Exhilarating!

Another exercise took us on a walk with our crayons and whatnots. Music played in the background. Eyes closed, fist curled around my white crayon. I followed the voice. I walk in the park, breathe in, breathe out. Everything is green, watch out! Rock in the path and a dog running through your path, excitedly chasing a duck. Smell the air, freshly cut from dawn. Cool air resting awhile before flitting away with the pretty, pretty butterflies. We opened our eyes and looked at the random walk we took. Next task - "see" a picture in the random walk and draw it out. Time: 10 minutes.

Alot of them started working on their piece almost immediately. I was stuck. I couldn't see my picture. I started turning the paper, this way and that...I finally saw a man standing there. I started to fill in the details. I was surprised at the end product. I had pulled up a memory from a long time ago, when I was about 11 or 12 years old...

I visited an uncle of mine in a drug rehabilitation centre when I was about that age. I was allowed to because I didn't have an IC yet and mom could go because they are siblings. It never struck me that I would remember it. I thought that I was drawing out my mother visiting but it turned out to be an observation I didn't know I had. These "prisoners" are only allowed visits from family members once a month and their wives would tart themselves up to appear all well and good for their husbands. I also had a name for it - "The Great Partition". Picture will be up soon. It is also for sale so holler if you are interested ;-)

In the evening, I was at the Arab Association for an event. I watched various middle eastern string and drums performances and basically danced the night away. Ladies who were there, I thank you for your warmth, generousity and the Dzaffin steps. It was a lovely evening and I do feel priviledged to have been allowed that precious peek.

I am not going to write in detail about the evening but will leave you these words, recorded then:

traditional, swaying, plucking oh so skillful, string instrument from Turkey
cameras annoy my eyes with their bright lights
my emotions run, trickling at times, accompanying the quieter notes
escalating, shut eyes backpaddling me to when I was a muslim.
Do I miss it? eyes fixed, lullled and lost but dark kohl-lined eyes watch me, hypnotic
light-footed horse warriors, they twirl, I see only white, flashes of those dark eyes again
the earth shifts as they hold hands, hop and skip,
always graceful, they never slip
fingers touched heels, bending down, celebratory yet humbled
ululation proclaiming devotion and love
heel to earth, bow down muslims, keep yourselves grounded
evoke loyalty to the One royalty
toes curled upwards, heels strike the ground

ku sangka dinda,
tapi dia pusaka
membuka jendela dan
membelai hatiku yang gusang

Petal P. Rose