My So-Called Life

A junior from my junior college found me on Friendster. After seeing my photograph, he made a comment to the effect that I was a much quieter, different person when he knew me eight years ago.

All these years, I thought only my appearance had been altered: I used to tie my hair in a ponytail or sport a classic bob, now I favour funky hairdos; I used to wear classic pieces of clothing, now they must either be one-piece creations or sport unique details; I used to favour mainly sneakers or loafers when I went partying, now I must have boots.

Personality-wise, I felt that I was still the same gung-ho, go-getter that I’d been ever since I could remember. But a quick reflection of the past three years of my life proved otherwise.

Yes, I began partying at 15 but it was at most twice a week. That continues all the way until I graduated from university and landed my most memorable permanent job. For one and a half years, it allowed me to party on the job. Fantastic. Even after I left, I continued to go out every night for a year before it dropped to an average of three nights a week earlier this year. I go out because I love the music and I love dancing. The feeling when the music takes over your senses as you dance with wild abandon on the dance floor is indescribable. I just get lost in my own world.

Due to this, I get people coming to me and ask to be my friend; they say I’m fun to be with. Through them, I meet more people, and even more people. Today, I can hardly walk into any of the big clubs without doing my ‘PR’ rounds for at least 20 minutes. Several friends have commented on the number of people who know me or whom I know.

Heterosexuals. Bisexuals. Gays. Lesbians. Butches. Courting/dating couples. Married couples. Man and mistress. Woman and lover-boy. Druggies. Chain-smokers. Players. Expatriates. Nightclub hosts. Strip-dancers. Social escorts. Ex-prisoners. Dealers. Pimps. Gold-diggers. Dierctors/CEOs/Partner of businesses.

These are just some of the colourful characters who call me their friend or acquaintance. Some are dear to me, I to them. But sometimes, just once in awhile, I want to be able to walk into these places and not find anyone I know. Just for the heck of it.

Several people envy the position I’m in, knowing such varied personalities. But the downside is that I’m viewed as a wild-child, especially when I hang out with my homosexual friends. On a certain night out at Zouk, a friend said irritably, “Can you stop being so wild?” after I spent 30 minutes receiving hugs from my homosexual and mainly expatriate friends. I didn’t think there was anything wild with that. I’ve done things that I think are wilder than that.

So-called friends who are less open-minded couldn’t comprehend how I could keep company with these people. They fail to see that everyone’s of the same species – humans.

The person who explained it perfectly is my best friend. Through our seven years together, we’ve been through a plethora of situations. She says, considering my lifestyle, it’s inevitable that I’ve adapted to assimilate into the conditions I was given. Granted, people who knew me from more than three to four years ago will be surprised or shocked to know how my circle of friends, and my perception of life and things, have changed. But if they can’t recognise that people change, it’s their problem and not mine. As long as the people close to me realise that I’m still the friend who sincerely cares for them, my world’s complete.

For that, Josephine is truly the only one that knows me well. And I’m happy that my life is what it is thus far.