The Letter and the Speech (or Documents of a Twisted Personality)

I sit, the blank digital page of the screen shining against me in the dark, take a sip of water and sigh. Looking down, looking up again, I finally take my fingers to the keyboard.

For those who don’t already know me, I am Allison and the Maid of Honour today. Claudia and I know each other for fourteen years now and I am touched to be standing here today on one of the most special days of her life. This wedding is double special for me as the groom has grown over the past year to become a very close friend of mine too.

I have known Claudia from just about the age where boys started to play any role and have accompanied her through all her ups and downs, loves and heartbreaks. There are many funny memories I cannot share in this censored environment. Instead I’d like to focus today on clearly the only one relationship that ever mattered.

When it comes to Sandeep and Claudia’s relationship, I had a front row seat in the movie theatre premiere, having been there from the earliest days. I remember Sandeep’s fierce courtship and Claudia’s denial, hesitant to lose a wonderful friendship. But it’s perhaps just that hesitance that made this relationship even greater when she finally gave in. Because when that first kiss was shared on our living room couch, it wasn’t just a steamy moment but a sweet promise of all that would eventually come.

There are two key moments I remember thereafter:

February 2013, the visit to Singapore

The day you, Claudia, came back from visiting Singapore and Sandeep’s family for the first time officially as his girlfriend. You were all smiles telling me how much you loved it there, how wonderful his mother was, taking you in her arms like you were her own daughter. I never told you this, but that day I cried alone in my room, in happiness and sadness. Happiness because I knew you had finally found the one. Sadness because I knew that it was the end of an era for you and me.

June 2013, the proposal preparation

When Sandeep messaged me asking me to meet him in the nearby pub in the City, I knew it was serious. I didn’t dare say anything but already knew what he was going to ask.

“I want to steal your roommate from you,” he said half asking as if requiring my permission. From this day on, I spoke to Sandeep almost every day, planning the proposal, collaborating on secretly measuring Claudia’s ring size, discussing when and where the proposal was to take place, even suggesting he should practice going down on one knee, making sure his trousers don’t crack. The highlight of it all was that I was allowed to be a part of that very special moment, right there in that romantic setting of their favourite French restaurant where Sandeep was so nervous he couldn’t get the ring out, while Claudia was gasping and in tears.

Another fourteen months have passed since that special night. Although you are husband and wife for the first time today, I know your hearts and souls have merged already long ago.

Now, I invite you all to stand and raise your glasses in a toast to Claudia and Sandeep, wishing them ever-lasting love and happiness in their new life. To new beginnings!

I put my fingers to rest. I read over the draft and save it as “Claudia_wedding_speech.doc.” I open a fresh page, sigh once more and type away again.

Dear Claudia,

I know this must be coming as a shock to you but I cannot hold it any longer. Today, I am writing you to request terminating our friendship. We know each other for over a decade and have been sharing a flat for half of that time and so it may seem irrational of me to request such a sudden end.

But truth be told, for the longest time, ours was a marriage of convenience, me having a two bedroom flat and you being a clean person to live with. When you started to refer to me as your ‘best friend’ or ‘soul sister,’ I was taken aback. To me, you were nothing more than a person who lived in the same square-foot space who paid me regularly. And yet, like a weak-willed man giving in to an overbearing girlfriend, I gave in to your neediness and have a couple of years ago even decided to upgrade your status in my mind and call you a friend.

Continue reading “The Letter and the Speech (or Documents of a Twisted Personality)”

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The Ken Doll (or The Curious Case of the Shrinking Tool)

He closed his eyes and rubbed it, conjuring the images from last night, that blond nymph sensually moaning on top of him. Then, he rapidly took out his tape measure, holding it from the base on the inner side right up to the tip where the hole was, like the NHS site had suggested, using the same method as in the past few weeks. 12.9 centimetres. There was no denial, it was smaller.  He didn’t keep records initially because really, it couldn’t be true. But 12.9 cm? Since those silly teenage days, where hidden in the family bathroom he’d quietly measured himself, he always had at least 15.0 cm, if not 16.5 cm on a good day, well above average. 

***

He recalled that ominous Thursday walking into the bar; no wingman, no friends, just tired of everyone. Worn down by a long week that only resulted in a major deal falling through at the last minute, a good fuck was in order. The rooftop lounge turning into a club with the view of St. Paul’s cathedral wide in front of him was one of his favourites. He had avoided this place for a while; too many familiar faces. But today it felt just right. Sitting at the long sleek black counter and having ordered his one drink for the night, a Campari with orange, like a predator he slowly let his eyes glide through the room scoping for his perfect prey, simultaneously confirming that he was at the upper end of the male contenders here.  

He had a shortlist of three: the petite Asian peeking at him through her colourful drink; the tall blond conquering the dance floor reminding him a bit too much of Jenny from last week, though he couldn’t deny her nice figure underlined by the white tube dress clearly here to be stripped; finally the brunette sitting at a table with a group of friends, the desperate girls night out, every single one of them screaming for a guy to rescue her. He was satisfied with the diversity he had picked. Too many men just stuck to one type until every single replacement just looked like a bad xerox of the last one. Where was the fun in that? 

Suddenly like lightening she caught his eye. Sitting on a bar stool at the end of the counter, her red lips sipping on a martini were so sensual, her appearance was surreal. Her hazelnut wavy hair was draping her beautiful shoulders remaining free above a red velvet dress smoothly flowing over her expressive curves. She distinctly reminded him of the first woman he ever considered sexy: Jessica Rabbit. 

Turn around, so I can see your face. Just in that moment, she swirled around on her seat to face him, her emerald eyes emitting a mysterious spark. His shortlist was long lost by now and the winner was clear.  

He wasted no time to close the deal and walked right up to her, her eyes fixated on him. He wasn’t too surprised. He was a good looking fellow after all, tall and well-built from his regular gym workouts at the craziest hours of the day, his square jaw with just the right amount of dark stubble to look manly and not rogue. His tailored grey suit accentuated his features, while his Tag Heuer Carrera watch was an easy item to communicate his financial standing without being blatantly obvious like the sad men with their overdone gold Rolex bling, bigger than their wrist (and any other part of their body).

“I see you’re having a martini. They do have a killer mojito here. Would you like to try one?” He said now leaning in right next to her. 

“I’d never say no to a free drink,” she said, putting hers to the side. 

Jackpot! “My name is Ken.” Always a monosyllabic strong name. He extended his hand. 

“Annika. Pleasure.” She said.

Continue reading “The Ken Doll (or The Curious Case of the Shrinking Tool)”