Happy Belly on Love: Finding happily after

I used to think that I’d be married by 25 and have two kids before 30, ensconced in a comfortable five-room HDB flat. But this Singapore version of the American Dream is obviously not coming to pass. I chalk it down to having too much fun as a single but friends and family say it’s because I’m too picky.

Whatever it is, I’m honestly happy although it’s almost impossible to convince the people around me. Especially those in Thailand.

Most Thai girls have one aim in life – find a guy and get married. I know this may sound like a sweeping statement but 99% of the girls I’ve met so far are in this mould. At 24, they start moaning and groaning a great deal if they don’t have a boyfriend. In fact that’s most of what they talk about, other than celebrities and fashion. And the moaning decibels get louder with each passing year.



That’s why the Thais don’t know what to make of me. I’m like a strange specimen from outer space simply because I’m not spending my nights sobbing into my pillow over the lack of a boyfriend or husband. But even if they don’t understand, bless their hearts, they still try to help me out.

Like my maid who did my housework when I first came to Thailand. My Thai was very limited in those days and her English was practically non-existent. After a few weeks, she kept telling me about her son. All I could make out was her son is very smart, very good-looking and works as an engineer. I had no idea why she was telling me all that but since she was a lot older, I decided to be polite and nodded at her smilingly.

Encouraged by my seeming receptiveness, she started bringing photos of her son to show me. I brushed it off as a mother being very proud of her son and wanting to show him off to others. My nodding and smiling continued.

Then the inevitable happened. I’d casually mentioned to her that I was going to visit Ko Kred, a tourist attraction about 30km from where my apartment. And without telling me, she got her son to wait for me at the apartment on the morning that I was going! I stammered out some excuse that I wasn’t well and literally fled from my apartment.

Craftsman at work in Ko Kred, a Mon village.

Now, the tricky thing was how do I explain to her that I’m not in the least interested in her beloved son, no matter how much I’ve smiled or nodded. Plus I didn’t want to piss her off in case she “accidentally” put holes in my favourite shirt when ironing.

In the end, I took the “chicken” way out. Instead of saying anything to her, I found photos that I’ve taken with my good guy buddy and liberally sprinkled them everywhere – bedroom, living room, and I even ingeniously put one under my pillow, so that she’d “discover” it when changing the sheets.

And it worked. She stopped talking about her son. She also stopped talking to me. That was all right with me as long as my could-have-been-mother-in-law kept my clothes and the place spick and span. Lesson learnt: never nod or smile if you don’t have the faintest idea what the other person is talking about.

In any case, over the last few years, I’ve learnt to deflect unhealthy interest in my single status, especially from nosy taxi drivers. Taxi drivers, I’ve decided, are worse than CIA agents. They interrogate you from the moment you get onto a cab and never take no for an answer. How long have you been in Thailand? Why can you speak Thai so well? How much is your rental? What is your salary? What do you work as? Where do you work? Are you married? Why are you not married? Would you like to know my friend?



But there’s one question that I eagerly await because I know I can shut him up with my answer.

Cab driver: Where do you work?

Me: At the church.

Long pause. Everything’s silent other than his brain working overtime to process the information.

Cab driver: So you’re a nun?

I just smile and leave him to draw his own conclusions. A nun. Why not? If the shoe fits, and if it keeps these people from bugging me.



All photos taken from the Internet.