Matador Picador Peon And Muleta.
I got a phone call from a Desparate Housewife at two in the morning.
She sounded concerned. Any woman would too if she's a missus with four school-going kids whose hubby had gone AWOL for a week since his onshore leave. No, ma'am, I don't know where your hubby is. Bye.
That was a lie.
I saw him a few hours ago. He had came to the apartment with a woman he said he was going to marry. I said, good for you.
And I served them coffee from a pot I had bought from Tesco that evening.
In the kitchen he asked, what do you think?
I think the pot is a classic piece. The kind they must have served first class passengers on Titanic.
I mean her lah.
You mean the one sitting on the couch watching the Arabic channel?
Yes. BTW, why are you tuned in to the Arabic channel, man.
I am brushing up on my Arabic.
Oh really?
Yea, I'm thinking of going back to Saudi Arabia to work with Aramco.
So what do you think?
I think she's older than you, yes?
About 2 years.
Does your missus know about this?
Not yet, but I'll let her know soon.
When?
So what do you think?
Whaddaya want me to think, man? Do you want me to say something you wanna hear?
You sound mad.
No, I ain't mad but I wish you don't include me in your plan, man.
Hi, ma'am. My name's Bergen Abdullah. Have some coffee. This is a new pot I just got from Tesco. Do you like Tesco? They've got a lot of aisles that'll take you at least a couple of years to go through one by one. I'm not the official spokeperson for Tesco but that's where I hope to meet someone special so she can be my missus, someone I will love until I'm blue in the face. Ma'am?
She must have found me a nuisance. Or somekind of a nut case that she must have psst psst psst my friend behind my back to leave this apartment now or else she would call off the wedding. This friend of mine must have loved this woman very much to listen to her instead of staying for another minute to talk about friends at the rig who asked about how I am getting along trying to adjust myself to being a land person without a job, pretending to be a writer writing blog after blog that people are beginning to have problem keeping up.
They left around a quarter past midnite.
I stayed for an hour or thereabout watching the Arabic channel, re-learning all the words and how to use them. In the end I gave up and went to bed.
And then the phone call came in from a Desparate Housewife. I listened to her for twenty minutes or thereabout, maybe more. In between sobs she said she knew something about her hubby so please, don't hide anything from me. But there I was holding back a vital information from a missus whom I had met on several occasions. I felt like saying what Aunt said:
'Men are like that, there's nothing you can do about it.'
She said, please do call me when you see him. And please tell him the children are missing their daddy a great deal.
Yes, ma'am. I will.
(A lie)
I tried to sleep. No way I could after telling that lie. And so I dreamed of a bullfight in Seville. I dreamed of a Matador. Of cape passes. I dreamed of Spain. I need to get away from all this. I need to run away from all this. I am going to Spain. To join a circus. Or become the first Asian matador. Maybe an overweight matador.
Ole!
I need to be killed by a charging bull while trying to execute an elegant cape pass. Anything as long I don't have to delve with the question that has been playing in my head whether should I or shouldn't I dial the number and tell the Desparate Housewife that:
...ma'am, your hubby is getting married. They were at the house. I served them coffee from a pot I got from Tesco. I'm sorry for the lie I told you last night. I wish I had been honest about it. Forgive me, ma'am. I got nothing to do with what happened between you and your hubby. He's a friend of mine from the rig. Not exactly a good friend, but a friend nonetheless. Not that I wanted to protect him. Or protect you from getting hurt knowing the truth at two in the morning. But when you said the children are missing their daddy, I got scared. I got really scared for hiding this information from you. I'm sorry, ma'am.
Wish I had the courage to say all this. Wish I am not such a sissy. Wish I am in Spain. I wish my friend didn't show up at the apartment. I wish the Desparate Housewife didn't call me.
I wish I were a Matador so I don't have to deal with all these domestic issues. A Matador is good. I can dedicate a bull to a pretty woman sitting in the expensive seat of the arena.
I don't want to see the phone.
I don't want to see the phone.
She sounded concerned. Any woman would too if she's a missus with four school-going kids whose hubby had gone AWOL for a week since his onshore leave. No, ma'am, I don't know where your hubby is. Bye.
That was a lie.
I saw him a few hours ago. He had came to the apartment with a woman he said he was going to marry. I said, good for you.
And I served them coffee from a pot I had bought from Tesco that evening.
In the kitchen he asked, what do you think?
I think the pot is a classic piece. The kind they must have served first class passengers on Titanic.
I mean her lah.
You mean the one sitting on the couch watching the Arabic channel?
Yes. BTW, why are you tuned in to the Arabic channel, man.
I am brushing up on my Arabic.
Oh really?
Yea, I'm thinking of going back to Saudi Arabia to work with Aramco.
So what do you think?
I think she's older than you, yes?
About 2 years.
Does your missus know about this?
Not yet, but I'll let her know soon.
When?
So what do you think?
Whaddaya want me to think, man? Do you want me to say something you wanna hear?
You sound mad.
No, I ain't mad but I wish you don't include me in your plan, man.
Hi, ma'am. My name's Bergen Abdullah. Have some coffee. This is a new pot I just got from Tesco. Do you like Tesco? They've got a lot of aisles that'll take you at least a couple of years to go through one by one. I'm not the official spokeperson for Tesco but that's where I hope to meet someone special so she can be my missus, someone I will love until I'm blue in the face. Ma'am?
She must have found me a nuisance. Or somekind of a nut case that she must have psst psst psst my friend behind my back to leave this apartment now or else she would call off the wedding. This friend of mine must have loved this woman very much to listen to her instead of staying for another minute to talk about friends at the rig who asked about how I am getting along trying to adjust myself to being a land person without a job, pretending to be a writer writing blog after blog that people are beginning to have problem keeping up.
They left around a quarter past midnite.
I stayed for an hour or thereabout watching the Arabic channel, re-learning all the words and how to use them. In the end I gave up and went to bed.
And then the phone call came in from a Desparate Housewife. I listened to her for twenty minutes or thereabout, maybe more. In between sobs she said she knew something about her hubby so please, don't hide anything from me. But there I was holding back a vital information from a missus whom I had met on several occasions. I felt like saying what Aunt said:
'Men are like that, there's nothing you can do about it.'
She said, please do call me when you see him. And please tell him the children are missing their daddy a great deal.
Yes, ma'am. I will.
(A lie)
I tried to sleep. No way I could after telling that lie. And so I dreamed of a bullfight in Seville. I dreamed of a Matador. Of cape passes. I dreamed of Spain. I need to get away from all this. I need to run away from all this. I am going to Spain. To join a circus. Or become the first Asian matador. Maybe an overweight matador.
Ole!
I need to be killed by a charging bull while trying to execute an elegant cape pass. Anything as long I don't have to delve with the question that has been playing in my head whether should I or shouldn't I dial the number and tell the Desparate Housewife that:
...ma'am, your hubby is getting married. They were at the house. I served them coffee from a pot I got from Tesco. I'm sorry for the lie I told you last night. I wish I had been honest about it. Forgive me, ma'am. I got nothing to do with what happened between you and your hubby. He's a friend of mine from the rig. Not exactly a good friend, but a friend nonetheless. Not that I wanted to protect him. Or protect you from getting hurt knowing the truth at two in the morning. But when you said the children are missing their daddy, I got scared. I got really scared for hiding this information from you. I'm sorry, ma'am.
Wish I had the courage to say all this. Wish I am not such a sissy. Wish I am in Spain. I wish my friend didn't show up at the apartment. I wish the Desparate Housewife didn't call me.
I wish I were a Matador so I don't have to deal with all these domestic issues. A Matador is good. I can dedicate a bull to a pretty woman sitting in the expensive seat of the arena.
I don't want to see the phone.
I don't want to see the phone.
posted by Bergen at
9:08 PM
26 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
I pity the Desperate Housewife. But who are we to 'sibuk' in other people's marriage life??
oopsss, terdelete la pulak... niway, just passing by..:), eh, bergen, interesting blog u have...
I've been in this kind of situation, kinda. Difference is, it was a close relative. Ended up not telling the wife, who ended up hating us for 'bersubahat' - did nothing of the sort! If we had told, we'd still be at the receiving end, maybe both ends. Better to keep quiet, I guess, unless you're sure you can do some good. Tough situation to be in, Bergen.
Bergen, as my hubby would have said to me: You can listen to the problem, BUT never take the ownership of that problem!
AUuuuu...tough one! but I'm not going to comment on the matter.
Instead, I shall deal with the commenting from the distance technique that you've employed in your entry. I've currently read Robert Browning and his use of Renaissance imageries in his poems. It is said that the use of an earlier period's imageries as to indirectly slap the English from a distance.
Point is by telling us, the readers, about the mischeivous friend with his wife-to-be, you're trying to tell us something elso.
Are you going off to Saudi Arabia? Are tired of posting entries and not getting any response/comments from us? Are you going to stop writing this blog?
Are you?
My head is swirls whenever I read your blog. But I keep coming back for more. Tesco or no Tesco. Methinks you're a better person by not saying. Certainly not an enviable position to be in.
Tipu sunat kut
Comment Deleted: Thank for visiting, ma'am.
Maklang: I reckon you are right eventhough the Desparate Housewife has the right to know. What you are saying is, it shouldn't be from me. Right?
Tee: Thank you for visiting, ma'am.
Nobee: I'm trying to stay out of the way. Don't want to be caught in the cross-fire. They might get back to being together like they first met, and will probably talk about this period and boom! my name comes up and they both will come after me.
QOTH: I figured as much, ma'am. It's damned if you do damned if you don't kinda situation, I guess. Gotta think fast. Maybe migrate to Iceland or some place where I need to learn a new language to survive.
Mama Irama: Your hubby is right, no doubt about it, ma'am. Only in this case I told a lie to the Desparate Housewife and I couldn't help but feel guilty about it. There is nothing I can do to right the wrong because ever move seems wrong and may lead to even more serious outcome.
Anim: With or without comment, I write, ma'am. I go forward. Quite frankly the comments are bonus. It's nice to read them. But I don't stay around long enough to bathe in the glory of getting them. There's no stopping me from writing now although I do have to exercise somekind of judgement not to post certain entries that casual visitors may find offensive. Don't want to disrupt anything. Or become somekind of controvery over something I hold sacred.
Blabs: Firstl, I appreciate your coming here, ma'am. I have a lot of respect for the way you write. Secondly, sorry for the swirl. Wish I had something to fix that like Excedrin or something. Thirdly, you've got it right. This ain't no enviable position I'm in, all because of a visit. And a phone call. Funny how the very thing I like receiving can become a curse. Well, almost.
AuntyN: A lie's a lie. It doesn't change the fact that I hid the truth and maybe this will cause the Desparate Housewife to hurt even more if she finds out later. But I gotta a feeling if I disclose the truth now, my friend won't like it as it will disrupt his scheme of thing. And like Lifebloom says, who are we to disrupt a marriage. It doesn't really matter if it is a second, third or fouth marriage. A marriage is a marriage.
I had better tuned in to the Arabic channel. As it is, I am not answering any phone calls, or receiving any guests. And my kitchen is closed. No coffee. No cakes.
Wish Uncle were here sort things out. No, he'd probably take advantage of the situation and marry another woman.
I can handle it.
Hey B
Do what you feel is right ok...
Tough choice.
For me personally, I would like to be told the truth so that I can plan my next move.
And not to be living a lie of a life for the next couple of years just because of some vital information being kept away from me.
But then again, I can understand the tough spot you're in.
Good luck.
I think I would have told the truth. This is different from interfering in other people's problems. You didn't call his wife up. She called you. She asked you a straight question. Why not give her a straight answer? What gives your friend the right to expect you to lie for him?
Having said that, I generally say what I think if people ask me and it is true that they are generally not pleased with the answer. They ask, but they don't really want to know.
Bergen: Yes, it shoul not come from you. Don't get yourself in the 'loop'. Problem woi... Kesian je cukuplah... Or maybe give some hints to the DH?
Bergen, bergen, bergen... How I wish you could've advised your good friend to be prudent in this situation. At least do it in a fair way not selfishly like this. Sorry to say, I have no respect for such man.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss... sometimes...
MASTER BERGEN:
I agree with the beautiful miss liza. No respect should be given to such man.
But on your part, the best action to be taken is the best action that you think it is after a thorough thought base on what would you feel if you are in each and every party involved shoes.
Its not a 'heavy thing' unless in happened to us.
Sigh..........
the scenario sounds familiar. o well, best for her to find out on her own.
i know it is a sticky situation.
on one hand the wife deserves the truth,as MA puts it, she can plan her next step. Playing guessing game, especially when u know something is going on is really painful for a wife, and definitely for the children.can u handle the possibility that she might be betrayed twice over?
on the other, it is probably safer to poke ur nose elsewhere. but is it more comfortable?
that said, u are nevertheless accountable for having lied to her. if you can get pass the guilt,i think you can get some piece of mind by getting yourself busy with something else.
there are 2 common reasons why ppl lie
1. to get what they want
2.to keep from hurting somebody
on both accounts, u need to ask yourself your moral principle and put it against the bigger picture.
my 2 cents worth of opinion:
in this kind of situation, the best you can do is advise the friend to let DH know of the new marriage (before or after will be up to him). these type of news is best coming from the husband rather than relatives, friends or God forbid - strangers.
Oppss... somehow, I've been misconstrue. What I was pointing out was the writing style that you've emplyed in this entry, instead of the commentators.
I notice an eclactic range of styles in your writing style, that is.
EM: Yes, ma'am. That's the best way to deal with this. Do what you feel is right. And telling the truth seems so right.
Noni: This concept of 'kelentong gets you places' is fine. Thing is, lies have a way of catching up with you when your guards are down. No one I know, not even personal security personnel can be on their guard all the time.
Thinktankgal: I don't make it my business to get into other people's problem, ma'am. In this case, to me, is about hiding the truth, or spilling the bean.
Dr Nurul Bahiyah Baharudin: It must be nice to have more than one missus. It keeps the world going. It keeps romance going. And the economy going.
FBT: You brought up a very interesting point. I reckon we'd rather be told a lie, at least half truth. Maybe it has something to do with being polite. This, however, is a contrast to the British. They prefer to be told the worst, and deal with it the best they can. Maybe this is a Malay thing. I will try to find out about it.
Maklang: It's gonna come from me, ma'am. There's no two way about it. I gotta do this.
Liza: I am the last person qualified to offer him any advice. He's definitely more experienced than me in this one. LOL.
Marina: I reckon so, ma'am. But I believe it's bliss with innocent things, but not in matters as this.
DIM: On the side of the coin, my friend has the right to marry another one, sir. I respect his right on this.
Sya: Thank you for visiting, ma'am. Glad to have you here.
Xaviera: Is that how you'd prefer to find out if this happens to you, ma'am?
Nazrah: Yes, ma'am. Those thoughts went through my mind and I've made up my mind to do something about it. And that is to tell the truth, and face the consequences.
Hemu2: All I gotta do is ansnwer DH's questions:
Have you seen my hubby?
Yes.
Where?
At the apartment.
When?
Monday 10 April 2006
Was he with someone?
Yes, he was.
Who was it?
A woman.
Is he getting married with this woman?
That's what he said, ma'am, but I think he's joking to make me feel bad since you know I don't have a chance of marrying anyone.
Anim: The miscontrue of your comments is entirely my fault, ma'am.
Mak Andeh: The way I figure, honesty is the best policy. You may lose now, but I believe you will always win in the end.
ur fren from the rig has no right to drag you into this.
owh...
it's happened to me and that's how i found out. no third party intervention, no external views. there was me and only me to talk me out of whatever depression that might have settled in or any irrational behaviour that could affect my dealing with the situation.
Encik Sayuti: I believe that sigh means something.
Xaviera: You went through it unscathed?
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