Sadness

I was watching Season 8’s finale of How I Met Your Mother and one part of it made me incredibly sad. It was the part where Ted told Lily he was moving to Chicago and it was partly because he has been trying so hard all these years to find a girl to replace the soft spot he still has for Robin. My heart went out to Ted as he told Lily, with all the sorrow evident in his eyes and voice, that he has been looking so hard all these years in New York City but yet his search has still come out empty. Of course we know that it isn’t going to be true, but for now, he is still someone who’s looking. Lily then implores him to stay, saying that he will find and meet that special someone in NYC. Yet Ted continues to look at her with his sad eyes, conveying the message that his decision has been made.

It was at this point in the episode that I felt super sad. Not for Ted, but for myself. I’ve always enjoyed How I Met Your Mother because I can identify with many of the issues faced by the main characters. Of all the five main characters, I identify most with Ted in his constant search for love and companionship. Like Ted, I want to be in a long-term committed relationship, yet it always seems to elude me time and again. At that point, I questioned: ‘What if I never find someone? Am I really meant to be alone? Why is it so difficult for me yet so easy for others? Will I ever be held and kissed by someone again?’ I was so sad that I found myself tearing up a little. Sigh.

Awkwardness

At around the same time, I went on a junk boat trip which a friend had invited me to and the only person I knew on the boat was her. Big mistake to go. Much as I like my friend, you can’t really talk to each other for an entire day spent on a boat. The core group of people there were a group of friends – about 10 girls and 1 guy – who have known each other since high school. I could tell that this group of people were from rich families as they all spoke English with American accents, yet they were also local Chinese. This was a privileged group of people whose parents were rich enough to send them to international school in Hong Kong. An interesting thing to note was that all the girls had gweilo/angmoh boyfriends in tow. I was quite amused by the observation.

In any case, I realise I’m really not good with situations where I don’t know anyone. It’s worse when I’m stuck on a boat with no escape route. I felt awkward the whole day, not really feeling comfortable among this group of strangers. And the fact that almost everyone else was there with a significant other didn’t exactly help. I mean, there’s really not much impetus for these people to want to get to know other people when they are already hooked up. To use a Singlish term, I just felt super sian (i.e. ‘a wonderfully concise Hokkien adjective which conveys boredom, weariness, frustration and emptiness’ according to Talkingcock.com).

Sian-ness

So there are times when I feel super sian about anything and everything. Sian about the fact that I’m not more of an extrovert who can make friends and ease into social situations easily. I had once thought that I could reinvent myself when I moved to London and Hong Kong. I thought I could transform myself into someone who was really outgoing, hang out at pubs and bars, become someone who would have no lack of dates because of the sheer number of people I’d meet. But then you realise that it’s actually really hard to change who you are, especially so as you get older and set in your ways.

Sometimes I’m also sian about the fact that (1) everyone in this whole world seems to be one half of two; (2) I haven’t dated in more than a year and that it’s so hard to find someone to date; (3) about the fact that I’m still at the lower rungs of the economic ladder while my peers are hovering way above me and that I may never get to retire at the rate I’m going. Let’s face it, not everyone can be a banker/lawyer/doctor and earn the kind of money they do. Not everyone is from a huge family or is some trust fund baby.   

Yes, I do realise that my ‘problems’ are very first-world problems and I really shouldn’t be whining about them. Counting one’s blessings and giving thanks are, I know, things I should be keeping in mind. It’s simple to do, but not always easy. But I try my best. Sometimes, though, my best isn’t good enough and so I end up writing stuff like this.