The Simple Life
I want a simple life, really.
I realise I can be happy on my own. I have a beautiful cat that likes his own space, but can be extremely adorable when he’s in the mood. Perhaps when I have a place of my own I’ll adopt two more. My little tiger will, of course, live forever.
I don’t need a big house. I just want a place that belongs to me. So that I can lounge on a sofa that I bought. So that I can cook and bake in a kitchen I designed. So that I can wear as little as I can.
My parents will have a place of their own somewhere far enough. But hey, this is Singapore, yeah? Everywhere is a short taxi ride away. They will visit once in a while for the mandatory nag and to make sure I make enough money to feed my cats. No, I will not be the woman who gets eaten by her cats when she falls dead in her apartment.
If I find a man, it would be a bonus. He must love me sufficiently—if not more than I love him—to want to marry me, though marriage, I think, is not for everyone. I don’t want children. Not now, not in the near future. I have purely selfish reasons for this. If I ever tell a man that I want to have his babies, it’s most likely because I enjoy the process of making them. I like staying at home, but I insist on an occasional date, or a periodic sexcapade. The man need not be rich, or handsome, but he must have a BIG brain.
Money is hard to come by. I’ve discovered that I am not a career-minded person. Career would never make the Top 3 on my priority list. I want to make enough money to sustain my rather low-maintenance lifestyle, yes, but I don’t climb imaginary corporate ladders. My dream job is one that lets me stay at home, and be able to do work that I enjoy doing. Perhaps I already know what that is. Perhaps I’m still looking.
Is this really too much to ask?