As always, I dumped my towel on one of the wooden chairs (in lieu of deck chairs; my condo is too small to have real deck chairs) and doused myself in water before stepping gingerly into the pool. While I was standing under the shower head, from the corner of my eye I noticed a man standing by his car with the door of the driver's seat opened, talking on his phone. I'd never seen him before in my life, but then again, out of the 50-something households here, I'm acquainted with a grand total of one, so that didn't really surprise me.
I didn't give a second thought to the man. I did my thirty laps, balked at how dirty the water was, and wondered if the filter was even turned on. After I hit my target I decided that I was way too tired to go on. I got out of the pool and grabbed my towel, wrapping it around myself as I walked towards my lift lobby.
In front of me, also walking to the lift lobby, was the man. I thought, "Great, I'm gonna have to endure the inevitable awkward silence in the lift." But when I reached the lift lobby, I saw that he'd stopped. Not only that; he didn't press for the lift.
Even worse? He started talking to me. The conversation went something like this:
Man: Don't mind me saying, but I saw you swimming just now.
Me: (Thinking: Um wtf?) Uh-huh?
Man: Just curious, are you swimming for toning or leisure?
Me: Both, I guess.
Man: In that case, you shouldn't always swim breaststroke. (Goes on to talk about how breaststroke makes thighs bigger, especially for a girl like me who's quite tall, then goes on to talk about benefits of freestyle.)
Me: Oh okay, I'll do that.
Man: You're not working today?
Me: No I'm studying.
BLAH BLAH BLAH. I'm bored already, trying to recall the conversation. Basically he told me that he was waiting for his sister who was giving tuition at my block, then told me that he worked for some McKenzie or whatever consulting firm and managed to slip in the fact that it's the "top 5" accounting/consultancy firm in Singapore. He also mentioned something about the Caribbean and how he usually hung out there.
All this was said under the assumption that I cared - which I didn't. He wanted to "keep in touch" and as usual I didn't know how to say no. After I was done showering (obviously, way after he'd left), I went into my room and checked my phone and found five SMSes from the man.
He said he liked wine and told me to "feel free" to join him and his friends for wine tasting or whatever. He also mentioned swimming at the Caribbean.
What the fuck is the "Caribbean"? Obviously he wasn't referring to the real thing, and I have no idea what the unreal one is. Also, wine? I don't care, sorry.
In fact, I cared so little that I wasn't moved at all to reply. He seemed like a nice chap but...1) does not pass hotness test (I'll just leave it at that); 2) tried too hard to impress (too bad I don't care and you really can't be anymore impressive to me unless you're like some hotshot lawyer, some super amazingly fabulous surgeon, have an "in" with like Christian Bale, etc); and 3) inability to SMS properly is, apparently, still a turn-off.
I can't believe I got hit on at my own freaking house. We need to vamp up security around here, methinks.
Okay, that last part was quite mean and I don't mean it (though the guards are fuck-lazy shits who leave the barrier open past 12 midnight 'cause they're busy SLEEPING). But all the same, what the hell. Yet another item chucked under the "I'm never going to get married/attached/whatever" column, and there is pretty much none for the one that says the opposite.
In any case, I still do occasionally think about the suuuuper cute property agent that showed us the Icon apartments last week, because he was really super cute. Did I mention the dimples? Oh well.
I'm still fucking pissed about the modules and I don't want to be asked about it. I think I might drop Conflicts. It's too much of a hassle to drop two modules and maybe this is the universe telling me that I really shouldn't risk the odds of getting a C, career handicap or not.
I don't fucking know oh my god. I wish this stupid mess would just sort its stupid self out. And I can't stress enough how much I resent the new priority system.
On a happier note, I watched Empire of the Sun last night, starring a 13-year-old Christian Bale, and I think I'm more in love with him than ever. He was so adorable as a boy and he was really quite spectacular in that movie. I also watched the making-of documentary (which I found very riveting) and it was really interesting watching Steven Spielberg direct 13-year-old Christian. There was this small snippet of Christian having his make-up done and he looked soooo adorable!
Shit lah I should've bought American Psycho in Manchester when I had the chance. Now I feel like watching it, despite my fear of gore. If all else fails, I can't deny how dashing Christian looks in a suit, seriously.
And The Machinist. Everytime I go to VideoEzy (which is once a week), I'll look at it and feel this urge to rent it. This urge is, quite sadly, repelled by a reservation, equally strong as the urge, with regard to the film's content and potentially disturbing nature. I mean, Christian lost 20-something kilos for the film and weighed like 55kg or something when he filmed it. I've seen promo photos of it and he looks really, really scarily emaciated.
Actually, that's more reason I should watch it, right? So that his dedication is appreciated? But I'm scared. Why does he choose such disturbing roles?
I must watch A Midsummer Nights' Dream (the one with Calista Flockhart) and Little Women (with Winona Ryder). I am rambling I know. Christian is my latest husband. I love him.
My life currently is one major bore. I'm watching DVDs, reading books (on Atonement right now, by McEwan, and I just finished Part One. I am FAMAZED by his almost pedantic attention to detail. Seriously), playing Word Challenge on Facebook, sleeping, bumming, swimming, eating. I'm bored out of my mind.
I haven't clubbed at all this summer and I'm, like, shocked, and in withdrawal a little. But not really a lot. Definitely not enough to overcome my laziness. I'm really too lazy to stay out and it's just tiring, and nowadays I'm too lazy to leave the house, period.
I am a reprehensible waste of space. BOO.