The repression of the inner man

Before I embark on what this post entails, let me state what this post is not about. For those whose minds are a permanent resident of the gutters, there is no deep dark fantasy in question, nor are there any lolita like musings. Neither is there a scarcely uncontrolled rage boiling beneath me. How then, should I tell this story now that all these pointless fillers are out of the way?

Let me try the methodology of chronos. The inspiration behind this post all started with an innocent phone call on Monday. My friend called me while he was overseas and suddenly requested for a favour. Judging from the somber tone and ill-concealed anxiety of his voice, I steadied myself for the gravity of the task I would be called upon. As the words rolled off his tongue, I readied my pen and paper in case my memory would fail to recreate faithfully the entirety of his request: Bro, can you help me........ um...... (as his voice trailing off, a myriad of possibilities surfaced in the effervescent imagination of DC) send flowers to someone?"

Huh? Chey! As far as anti-climatic occurences go, this would have be the Bentley of them, majestic and unquestionably the elite of them all. Well, the story is not about the errand that I ran for him, although that in itself would be quite a tale. (well its not really the kind of news that CNN and BBC would be falling over themselves to scoop but considering the banality of my life lately, this is about the most exciting tale I have to share) Rather, the tale illuminated a truth that had been buried in the dark recesses of my mind (which has been rather empty of late): suddenly it struck me like a fully loaded truck with a 40 foot trailer travelling at 100 km/h ( I live in Singapore okay, 100 km/h is considered very fast) what passage of time has elasped since I last had the opportunity to unleash the full blast of the flamboyant fascinating DC magic. Well, not even the 'full blast', in fact, it has been a while since I was last given the opportunity to unveil even a fraction that would be considered above the levels of materiality.

For the uninitiated, uninspired and unimpressed (the last adjective probably relates to everyone with fully functional faculties), the 'DC-magic' is a depiction of the typical flash-and-bling modus operandi that yours truly bring to the table when it comes to declaring/exhibiting my interest in members of the opposite sex for a relationship that extends beyond the realms of platonic. In other words: kao za bor or kzb for short. To be more accurate, eight long years have elapsed since then.

Do not be mistaken, I have not embraced the monastic order since then. Nor have I been living as a hermit in total seclusion for four fifths of a decade. Rather, since my last demonstration of the width and scope of the DC-magic or DCM for short, since then my journey has largely been either 1) an immensely scaled down version of the DCM or abridged DC Magic (ADCM) for short or 2) the Cliff Notes of DC-Magic CLDCM. Lest you think my perchant for gibberish has escalated to heights that Edmund Hilary would not even touch with a pole, let me explain.

The ADCM has been birthed in the era where restrain was the buzzword. Typified by advice such as "Don't scare people off" and "Slowly, get to know her first", the ADCM was meant to be a prelude to the DCM where the protaganist would be warmed to the 'idea' prior to receiving the entire ensemble that DCM brings to the table. Sadly, thus far, intended recipient(s) were initially blissfully unaware of the intent as the 'idea' were kept at frigid level, the moment it was heated to levels approaching room temperature, the recipient quickly side-stepped the proposition. Okay, 'side-stepped' is an understatement, 'avoided like the plague' would be a bit more precise. Therein lies the travesty of nature that the repression of the inner man is. Its akin to asking Schumacher to drive two hundred miles while adhering to school-zone speed limits, retelling Lord of the Rings in two sentences, confining Sonny Rollins strictly to the score. Sheer injustice!

The CLDCM is worse in nature. Shaped by statements like "I need a man who offers me security, not little things like this" and "Its quite sweet but this is not what I need", it is more than restrain and repression, it is total repudiation of the core of DCM. Blissfully, the era in which the CLDCM is but a passing shower in the tempest of my life. Best left buried.

Oh how long? How long more before DCM may be once more unveiled in the entirety of its scope?