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In my last relationship, I’ve fervently tried to get it labelled like how they stick “FRAGILE” over boxes containing your finest china except mine would read “EXCLUSIVE”.

“So what are we?”, I would whine. “You don’t want a girlfriend?”, a question I would sneak into our late night conversations. This recollection makes me cringe, in particularly, the replies. “Yes, definitely...” “in time...” “just that this is missing...” “that is missing...” - basically a million and one things I need to work on to be crowned, girlfriend.

“Shit?! What’s wrong with me?“ “What should I change to seal his ass?“ “Oh shit, he thinks I’m not empathetic?” “Jiejie, how should I reply to his messages to sound more empathetic?” “Would this skirt make him like me more?“ How do I become this XYZVJEIBFUNRYFUN girl so he would finally call me his girlfriend?

When it finally ended, the reverie didn’t. Not for awhile. Oddly when I finally figured it out, I was reaffirmed by his very own words, in person, about another woman after me. “She’s amazing and all but she was pushing me for more. I am not ready. She should give me more time right?”

Anyway, I wouldn’t have it any other way for I have learnt. I’ve learnt, we shouldn’t have to claw our way to exclusiveness or mould ourselves to fit into their lives - like Cinderella’s step sisters, forcing their feet into the glass slipper to marry the Prince.

We are, our fairy god mothers.


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