I remember it was beginning December 1994.
As a junior staff, I represented my manager for a meeting at our Organization HQ. The meeting was to coordinate for a large display event to showcase our organization hardware.
As I was stepping out the door after the meeting, a female voice started from my back, “Do you know? I thought you were one of the drivers from the Transport Division.”
“What made you think so?” I turned to face her.
“Earlier on when I arrived, I saw you sitting among them and as I walked passed the group, I heard you saying, “Drivers the best!”. That gave me the impression.” Jag explained.
“People just like to assume…They assumed everyone they see in Transport Division are drivers.” I smiled.
“Sounds valid.” She said.
“Oh, by the way, I’m Jag.” She extended her right hand.
I shook her hand.
We made some small talks, mainly work related.
“Where are you headed after this?” Jag asked.
“Back to office of course.” I answered.
“Need a lift? I rode here.” Jag offered.
There was an instant flashback. It was barely a month when I casually remarked to one of my colleagues that, the next girlfriend I look for would be one who rides a motorcycle.
Seriously?! My mind thought. For a moment, I actually thought it was a sign from beyond our realm. Above maybe.
Nay. Cannot be. I told my – non-religious – self.
“I’d love to, but I have office transport to send me back. Thanks for the offer.”
“So, will I be seeing you at the event?” Jag asked.
“Working on a Sunday? I hope not.” I answered.
“Alright then.” Jag said. I noticed a hint of disappointment on her face but quickly brushed it off my mind. Someone else was occupying my mind then.
We parted ways.
About a week later at the display event, I handed over my shift to my colleagues at about noon, and was on my way out when I saw Jag waving at me from a distance. I waved back and she walked towards my direction.
“You did come after all!” Jag said.
I managed a weak smile.
“Where’s your display station?” She asked.
“See that banner with a red marking? That is the one.” I pointed.
“Yes, I saw the Signature Red Top, and it’s crowded with visitors. Expected right?” She commented.
“Care to show me around your display?” She asked.
“Okay.” I said, despite my mind saying No.
After visiting my department display, Jag pulled me along to visit the other display stations.
We chatted with colleagues from other departments whom we collaborated with but had not met for quite awhile.
“Can you wait for me here? I want to go ‘da bian’ (Mandarin for pass motion).” Jag said.
“Okay.” I said with a smile, surprised by her frankness, and at the same time amused by her choice of language. Especially so when it came from a non-Chinese.
In the duration of waiting for her, some thoughts ran through my mind. Come to think about it, this girl is quite good-looking. She has nice features especially her sharp nose and beautiful lips. Looks like Brooks Shields. And best of all, she owns a bike.
Hmm. I was rubbing my chin when I heard Jag’s voice from behind.
“Look at this.” She showed me a five dollars note.
“You found it in the toilet?” I asked.
“No. Look what’s written on it.” She pointed.
I saw a hand-written name, Boon, and a string of numbers that looked like a pager number. I instantly looked up at Jag, “Don’t tell me it’s from…”
“You are right. It was pre-written when he pulled it out from his wallet. Is he cuckoo up there?” Jag said, tapping her temple with her index finger while making a funny face. I didn’t know whether I was laughing at Boon’s attempt or Jag’s funny expressions.
“Tell me what happened.” I said.
Jag recounted that just after she came out from the toilet, Boon approached her and introduced himself as my colleague.
Smart of him to use me as a link. My inner voice said.
Boon shared that he noticed Jag and I visiting the various display stations and thought he should just get to know more colleagues who are working at different parts of Singapore. Before they part ways, Boon asked for Jag’s contact but she declined. So Boon gave Jag his five dollars name card instead.
“If he didn’t say that he knows you, I would just tell him to F off.” Jag said.
I wanted to tell Jag, “You should.” but held back.
Boon was ten years older than me, and at age thirty-one, he never had a girlfriend. Somehow, it was my pity for him that stopped me from saying more.
“It’s about fourteen hundred and the weather is getting hotter. I’m making my way back.” I told Jag.
“But you haven’t visit my department display yet.” Jag said.
Short of telling her I was not interested, I told her I was tired, which was partially true. I had not been sleeping well since breaking with Sheena a month before.
“Yah, you do look tired.” Jag said.
As I was walking away, Jag called from behind,
“Hey, how do I contact you?”
I recited my easy-to-remember pager number to her.
Fast forward to 21 Dec evening, I received a page and called back.
“Hello. Who paged?” I said.
“It’s me, Jag. I’m at Changi Chalet with my colleagues. Want to come over?” Jag asked.
“Sure. Give me some time. I’ll make my way over.” I said.
I was in the chalet for a short while before Jag asked me to take a stroll with her along Changi Beach.
Changi Beach Park was not well-lit like East Coast Park. It was a lot darker. After walking for a distant, we settled down on a beach bench to enjoy the cold year-end sea breeze.
“How old are you?” Jag asked.
“You are younger. I’m twenty-five.” Jag said.
I can’t really remember what we chatted about. All I remembered was, shortly into our chat, we started kissing.
“You had hard liquor earlier.” I said when our lips de-linked.
“Yup. Still feeling tipsy.” Jag said.
“Then we should not be doing this.” I said.
“Sorry. Didn’t know you don’t like alcohol.” Jag apologized.
“No, I drink too. What I mean is, I don’t want to do this with you in your current state. Makes me feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” I explained.
“No one can take advantage me unless I allow. It’s me wanting to kiss you.” With that sentence, she sealed my lips with hers.
Ah, might as well. I told myself.
While we were still kissing, I palmed her left chest.
With no resistance, I moved my hand under her t’shirt, pushed down her right bra-cup and gave a light squeeze. Her breast felt soft…too soft for my expectation, given the nature of her job.
When my hand reached between her thighs, she stopped me. “I’m having my period.”
“But we can still do what we were doing.” She continued.
We started kissing again.
While in the act, my mind told myself, Maybe you will grow to like her as time goes by.
After about ten minutes or so, I got bored knowing there was no more new ground to break.
“Let me walk you back to the chalet.” I told Jag.
“So early?” She said.
“Don’t want to steal you from your colleagues for too long. Moreover, I need to catch the last bus back.” I said.
“Alright.” She said.
Since that night, we would frequently chat over the line. I learnt that Jag lived in a family of four. Besides both her parents, she had a younger brother. In our conversations, Jag did most of the talking. She told me about her work, the challenges she faced working among a male-dominant industry and how she learnt to deal with it. All I need to do was to be a good listener.
My clique of friends wanted to celebrate New Year earlier, a day before New Year Eve at Ridley’s. I asked Jag along. Jag warmed up to them instantly. More common topics maybe, since we were all in the same industry. We had a fun-filled party.
Jag followed me home that night. We had a quick session. I had to make it fast because both Jag and I were at the upper level of the double-decker bed and Tris my younger sister was sleeping at the lower level. Any movement we make on top would create ripple effects — times many — downwards. Did I also mention the loud creaking sound from the bed frames?
My parents brought Tris out earlier next morning.
Left alone, we had a round of proper love-making. As oppose to the night before where we made love in darkness, I got to see Jag clearly for that round.
Upon removing her clothes, I was presented with what I termed none-matching undergarments. Beige Triumph bras and black panties. Nothing wrong about that. Just set my mind guessing about her dress sense.
Maybe she is the dress-simple type, or maybe she was not expecting to stay over and maybe she didn’t even think about having sex. I thought. But I must say that black, in my opinion, is the most practical color.
Laying down braless, her pair of 34Bs drooped sideways. Her brown nipples felt smooth to my thumbs. I reminded myself against the disappointment before groping her soft breasts which, as I explored longer, provided a different visuals and hand feel.
Her waist down looked well-maintained, probably because she jogged regularly. I could see that she left her pubic hair as is. Again, nothing wrong with that. It was mid-90s, Brazilian was not common in Singapore yet.
At least she shaved her armpits.
Overall, I must say it was a satisfactory view.
Jag was not very proactive on bed, but then again, I was not expecting much.
After we were done and washed up, we chatted for awhile.
Something on my bookshelf caught her attention.
“Those are diaries?” She asked.
“Yup. Mine.” I said.
“You don’t look like one who writes diary?” She commented.
Yup, I’ve heard from many others that I don’t look like one who would do this, do that, have that thoughts and blah…blah…blah. My mind said.
“Can I read them?” She asked.
I hesitated for a moment before saying, “That will make you the first girl to read my diaries.”
While she read, I kept myself occupied by watching TV programme.
About an hour later, “You know? At this young age, I consider you quite well-exposed.” Jag commented.
“Huh? I don’t quite get you.” I responded.
“You slept with five girls already.” She said.
“You actually counted while you read?” I asked.
“I don’t know why, but it hurts over here while I was reading them.” Jag pointed to her chest. I noticed her beautiful eyes welled up.
“But those were in the past. Everybody has a past right?” I reasoned.
“They looked so pretty. And they have long hair.” She said, pointing at my exes’ pictures.
“Some people are just photogenic. And anyway, just so you know, bringing you home means something, at least to me.” I attempted.
“Come, let’s go for a walk downstairs. I want to show you off to my neighbors.” I said, holding Jag’s hand.
It was a relieve to me when Jag let out a chuckle.
We went to the nearby coffee shop for brunch after the stroll.
Along the way while walking back, “Come, let’s sit here for awhile. Only get cool breeze during year-end period. Very comfortable.” I said.
We cuddled for awhile before going back my place.
Jag left for her home near evening.
That night when my parents came back, the first sentence when my mother saw me was, “You into homosexual now?”
I was like, “Har?!”
“Auntie Fatso told me she saw you hugging and kissing an Indian boy this afternoon.” Mother said.
It took me awhile to realize what mother was talking about.
“She’s my girlfriend. Short hair, but girl. Not Indian. She’s a Sikh. You know? Female Babu Singh?” I explained.
“I just want to tell you upfront, there will be many issues if you marry someone from different race. Language barrier, food suitability and next time, people will be calling your children names. You hear me?” Mother said.
“Um.” Was my reply. But mother’s words started me thinking.
Over the course of almost every weekend, Jag would stay over at my place. I could see mother’s uneasiness, but she remained friendly when Jag greeted her.
Things changed on bed. Jag started to feel pain whenever we had intercourse. Despite Jag trying to endure through, at times, I had to end the sessions without an end. It can be frustrating.
“It had been happening recently. Are you unwell somewhere over there?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Never happened to me before.” Jag said.
“You may want to go for a checkup.” I said.
We left the discussion at that.
One day, while in my office, Sugu, one of my seniors approached me.
“Hey Playboy, I heard you are dating Jag.” Sugu asked.
“Yes. You know her?” I answered.
“I hope you are not getting serious with her.” He said.
“What made you say that?” I asked, mentally bracing myself for something not nice, judging from Sugu’s posture and tonality.
“You know she’s a bitch?” Sugu said.
“No. But tell me more.” I said calmly.
“She is basically hay-wire. I am telling you this because I think you are a good guy and I don’t want you to get hurt.” Sugu said as he patted my shoulder before walking away.
From my perspective, Jag did not appear as what Sugu described. Moreover, Sugu was merely a colleague to me. And from my experiences working with him, the level of trust for him was like two thumbs-down type.
But then the thoughts of what Jag & I did at Changi Beach came to my mind. The mental equations did point to the possibility that Sugu might be telling the truth.
While perceptually affected, I decided to observe as we go along with our relationship.
For the subsequent months that followed, Sugu approached me twice to warn about Jag. I must admit that hearing the same thing for multiple times, did create some mental imprints.
Our bedtime stories were taking a toll on our relationship. Ok, I rephrase…taking a toll on me.
Thankfully, there were other friends to help keep me sane.
Jag, on the other hand, had been putting in effort to compensate with other activities.
I remembered it was some time April 95.
“Hey, it’s me.” She said. I could hear the excitement in her voice.
“Hi.” I said.
“You know Sheryl Crow?” Jag asked.
“All I want to do, is have some fun…” I sang out a verse.
“Yes! Yes! So you know.” She said.
“Why? You bought her CD?” I asked.
“No. But something better. You know Class 95FM?” She asked.
“Yes.” I said.
“They have this challenge to call in at a certain time. And if the call gets through, I’ll need to say: “All I wanna do is to see Sheryl Crow Live in Concert.” and guess what? I got through after trying for about twenty minutes, said the phrase and won us two tickets to the concert!” She announced.
“Great.” I said.
“30 Apr, Sentosa Amphitheatre. We go together.” She said.
“Alright.” I said.
Though we were seated at the far rear, it was a fresh new experience for me. I had never been to a concert. And also considering Jag’s effort to win the tickets, I must admit that I was touched.
Another time, she took me to a round island cruise onboard a small Chinese Junk lookalike. The Chinese Junk took us around Singapore’s Southern Islands, made a 30 minutes pit-stop at Kusu Island and head back to mainland Singapore. As a Singaporean, that was the first time I got to see the physical islands.
But me being me, when there were enough of sex and booze to keep me occupied, I began to take Jag’s love for granted. I made excuses not to meet up, and even if we did meet up, my attention was not with her. And to make matters worse, I became impatient towards her. *Damn me! says the current me while I was writing this.
There was this one incident…
“You know, this is the number God-knows-how-many-times you complained to me how hot and uncomfortable this hair band is making you feel. Why not just take it off like what I told you many times before?!” My tone slightly raised.
“I’m in the process to keep my hair long. This band helps to keep my messy hair in place. Remember?” Jag said.
“You have a choice. If you choose to keep long hair, don’t complain. If you cannot take it, then don’t do it. Why do you want to keep long hair in the first place?” I said.
“Why?! I did it for you!” Jag snapped.
I was stunned for a moment, not because she said she was keeping long hair for me, but that was the first time Jag showed her temper to me.
“I don’t remember asking you to keep your hair long. Did I?” I defended.
“But all your exes had long hair. Even your hair is longer than mine.” She said.
“Remember what your neighbor told your mum? That you were kissing an Indian boy? I want to look feminine. To be the girlfriend you can proudly bring out to meet friends.” Jag said.
I was dumbstruck by Jag’s words. She was right to a certain extend. For the few months that we were together, I brought her out only once. That time to Ridley’s.
After a brief moment of soul-searching, I let out a sigh and held Jag’s hands.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You don’t have to do that, you know?” I said with a gentle tone.
“Not your fault. It’s me feeling insecure.” Jag said.
“You are who you are. I have never minded how you look. And for the record, I find you pretty. You have sharp features like ‘ang moh’ (Hokkien for Caucasian). To me, you are supermodel class.” I comforted.
Jag blurt out a chuckle.
I wasn’t sure if it was guilt or me trying to make a point. Since then, I brought her along whenever I go partying. I even arranged for us to join in with another group of colleagues for couples’ movie night. We were going to watch Forget Paris at Cathay Cineplex Orchard.
My! did my eyes widened when I saw Jag. She sported a cool pixie haircut and wore a piece of long white dress that complimented her figure.
“I really can’t find the word to describe how you look tonight.” I said in ewe.
“What?” Jag was smiling when she said the word. Seemingly knowing how gorgeous she looked that night.
“You are beautiful.” I gasped.
Anyway, we did not manage to watch the movie. It was a sold-out. We decided to give up our tickets to one of my colleagues and his girlfriend, so as to keep their regular group integrity intact.
Almost everything went well for us except three things.
- My mother’s concerns on inter-racial marriage
- The suspicions incepted by Sugu
- Difficult sex
There was a period of time where I was unreachable due to the nature of my work. And when I reemerged, I was shocked when Jag told me Boon touched her and kissed her cheek.
“How the fuck that happened?! He dated you?” I asked.
“No, I asked him out.” She said.
At that moment, Sugu’s words rang in my mind. “She’s a bitch…she’s hay-wire…”
“What the fuck are you trying to prove?!” I slammed the phone.
From that moment on, I ignored the countless pages that Jag sent. And I would hang up my office phone whenever I heard her voice. It was slightly over a week before she finally gave up.
About a year later, while I was chatting with one of my colleagues, I got to know that Sugu – who had since left our department due to unsatisfactory performance – tried to court Jag but in vain.
So, putting in a one plus one, I guessed Sugu’s few chats with me were his attempts to poison my – immature – mind, an indirect way to get back at Jag.
What the fuck have I done?! I asked myself.
I immediately called Jag at her office.
“Hi, It’s me.” I said.
“Oh, you’ve finally decided to talk.” Jag said in sarcasm.
“I just called to say I’m sorry.” I said.
“Sorry for what? For slamming the phone on me last year?!” She said.
“I’m not sure what to say. Just…Sorry for everything.” I mustered up the most sincere tone I knew.
“Well, what’s done cannot be undone. What’s hurt cannot be unhurt. I’ve learnt to move on. This apology is unnecessary, and useless.” Jag said coldly.
“How have you been recently?” I tried to prolong the conversation.
“Fine without you.” She answered.
Damned. I called to sincerely apologize. Surely I don’t deserve this? My mind thought. Nevermind, remember why you called. Focus.
“I’m sorry. My mind wasn’t clear then. I believed my colleague’s words about you and I jumped to conclusions. I’m truly sorry.” I said.
“Who that fella. What did he say about me?!” Jag asked.
“Sugu. He told me bad things about you.” I answered.
“Oh, I remember this Sugu guy. Threw a lot of vulgarities at me when I refused to be his girlfriend. And he also called me a bitch!” Jag said.
“That, was exactly what he told me about you.” I laughed.
“He’s an asshole! And you are an idiot to believe his words.” Jag said.
“You did prove his words right. You told me you asked Boon out and he touched you.” I said.
“And you dare to bring this up?!” Jag raised her voice.
“You were uncontactable. You basically disappeared. I called your office but nobody could tell me where you were. I was worried about you. The only contact number I had was Boon’s. He told me he had some idea of your whereabouts but not convenient to talk over the phone. He offered to talk face-to-face. I was desperate for an answer. That’s why I went to meet him.” Jag explained.
I processed her words in silence. Make sense. I thought.
“And this fucking Boon, he kept putting his hand on my back. I endured, with the hope of finding out about you. He then kissed me on my cheek. That was when I told him off and walked away.” Jag related.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! You Fucking Idiot! I reproached myself mentally.
You better think of a way to compensate this girl. My mind said. Think! Think!
“I had not been doing well for the past year.” I said. *Ok, I lied. Just a conversation starter.
“What happened?” Jag asked.
“Anger got the better of me. I know that deep down in my heart, there is love for you. But I’m just…I’m just such a stupid idiot.” I said.
“It hurts me to think that I had wasted the love of the girl who made an effort to call the radio station for a pair of Sheryl Crow tickets, and not trusting the same girl who went through much discomfort to keep her hair long. To look feminine, so that no one would think her boyfriend is a gay. I’m such a fool.” I continued.
“Don’t blame yourself for it. It’s all in the past.” Jag said in a gentle tone.
“Will you forgive me?” I asked.
“I just did that ten minutes ago.” Jag said.
It took me a few seconds to understand what she meant and I start laughing.
“Let’s meet up tonight. I want to see you. I miss you a lot.” I said.
“Sure. And I miss you too. I’ll come fetch you.” Jag said.
That night felt like where we left off a year plus before. I got to be the pillion, leaning onto Jag and wrapping my arms around her waist as she raved her scrambler along ECP (East Coast Parkway). She elbowed me when I mischievously squeezed one of her breasts.
We had dinner at East Coast Lagoon and ended ourselves up in Amber Hotel.
Sadly though, our bedroom affairs was also as unSEXtifactory as where we left off. Jag asked me to carry on till ejaculation despite the pain she felt. I managed a quick one and shot my load between her breasts.
By then I had read up and knew that she had Vaginismus. To be precise, her condition was called Situational Vaginismus.
Jag’s condition started after reading my diaries. I believe she was affected by my past. Thus the ‘Situational’ prefix.
After weighing the pro & cons, I knew what I needed to do.
My Incommunicado stunt would cost Jag another period of heartaches, but lesser of the evil in comparison to the lifelong suffering that we would be going through if we continue with our relationship.
I wish you well in life.
With Love (and apologies)
– VV Cold