The other night, I bumped into a friend on the bus. I was with my boy, and he said rather worriedly, "Oh no, this is the first time your friend is seeing me look like this." This, referred to his baggy shirt and even baggier shorts and rubber slippers. We had both literally just rolled out of bed, and our hairs were horribly messy and we were dressed very sloppily. I beamed at him and pinched his cheek and said, “Never mind lar. I also look like this.”

Later on I remarked that ever since that friend got into a relationship, she dressed amazingly well. Not just that, but she looked supremely gorgeous and extremely confident.

“So, after getting together with me, where is your newly found confidence?” he asked me.

I took a quick look at myself and laughed, “Dunno! Don’t have.”

“I know,” he said, “Your confidence lies in you being able to look like this.”

And then I realized that he was right. I knew (and perhaps I knew so well that I was abusing this priviledge), that I could walk around in an oversized t-shirt, secondary school shorts, with a hairband pushing up my fringe so that it wouldn’t touch my greasy face- I hadn’t bathed the whole entire day- because he loves me. The poor sucker. Well the good news is, the feeling is mutual- I love him too. Hence, we're both growing fat and ugly and yet we still think that the other is the most attractive person in the whole wide world. Ah, feels good to be so deluded.

(We've past the one year mark and I still feel like we're in the honeymoon period! Please bear with me if these posts are still as painfully and annoyingly sweet as before.)