The lives of others

Over the past weeks, I’ve met up with a lot of people. But I have to talk about last night’s encounter with two friends, M1 and M2.

M1 is a friend I met in Manchester. We met up for dinner at Marina Square and went for drinks at City Hall. In that time, I listened in on her world of rebelliousness, of landed properties, sewing, hobbies and individuality. I listened in on the firm ambitions of an independent woman, career-driven, heading towards China. I listened in on The Economist, Hell’s Bells bags, home-made bread, hand-made noodles. I sat and listened over a glass of sangria and thought about her staycations at Marina Bay Sands, her narrow-minded relatives and her Malaysia vs. Singapore conundrum.

M2 is a childhood friend from Penang who currently works in Vietnam. We talked on a 190 minute long-distance call after I got home from dinner. In that time, I listened in on gym workouts, six-to-one packs, protein shakes and needy ex-girlfriends. I listened in on his exploits to Paris, his lavish gifts to female friends, his parties in Bangkok, his move to Singapore next year. I laid on my bed with my eyes closed and listened to the mention of Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Two Door Cinema Club and other indie bands I cannot name.

The lives of others, oh how they fascinate me.

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