Just leaving for lunch at Nicholini’s – a treat for birthdays and sometimes just because (we’re having a crappy day).
I like this picture because I live this picture. Rockstar’s potty-training toilet seat in the background puts everything in perspective.
Everything Else are (newly bought on sale) Alice& Olivia sequin top, worn with cheapo crumply cropped cargos from victoriassecret.com (with ties oh-so-deliberately casually undone) and custom-made dark green snakeskin peep-toe pumps with red Louboutin-esque sole (love a red sole. Feel guilty paying HKD 6,000 just because of red sole.)
Nicholini’s (yes my cargos got looks – if you’re wondering what to wear to fit in, business-wear is goods – almost everyone else is doing entertaining at lunchtime. I just like wearing very obviously un-workwear stuff to these places now).
They say if you find one or two genuine friends in this world, you are truly blessed. I so freaking am. 2 live in Singapore. 2 live here. All 4 are Malaysian. Oh, and then I have another 2 (a Hongkie and a British-born Chinese) I love from work, whom I think would’ve been the start of some closer friendships if only fate had brought us closer for a little longer.
We’ve sent flowers or chocolates to each other on bad days in the office (so much better than politicking). One kept me sane online in the middle of the night from what must have been her IT office in the UK even as Kings rushed Rockstar to the clinic for what (thank God) turned out to be a false alarm while I was on confinement.
I wonder how many manic projects she was putting on hold to engage me, typing furiously from being grounded while Rockstar screams his way to Sanatorium.
Some of them have never met. Oh, I’m sure they’d get along swimmingly – if they ever had enough time and were in the same place long enough to get to know each other.
We pretend to be ladies-who-lunch. Harlan’s. Nicholini’s. Petrus. Or we hang out for the night (or two) at random bars and restaurants in Clarke Quay or Orchard Road.
Between lunches or drinks, sometimes we don’t see each other for weeks. Months. (But when we do, we pick up right where we left off.) If it wasn’t a crisis, work would take precedence. Not like we’d rather work than lunch. More like the one being blown off always REALLY understood and encouraged it.
We blow each other off for lunches for like, ages at a time in Hong Kong, sometimes rescheduling 3, 4, half a dozen times.
But. If I were ever in a crisis. Suddenly everyone’s schedule would be wide open. Considering the number of times we often reschedule because of Something-Came-Ups, I can only wonder at the juggling feats that go on even as they insist it’s no big deal.
Suddenly my beloved busy career-women girlfriends with the book-a-week-or-two-in-advance-subject-to-last-minute-confirmation schedules are wide open “for lunch in an hour” when yours truly needs a friend. It’s awe inspiring. She feels so blessed. <tear>
So here’s to my “foul-weather-friends,” as some of ‘em call themselves:
Y, 41, of-the-giant-paycheck-and-5-different-cities-on-a-bad-week-career-in-bank-PR. In serious relationship with someone who heads the dealing room of a bank with modest presence in Hong Kong and considering surrogacy.
G, 38, 5 months pregnant by her charming-and-proper Brindian husband, covering the Taiwan market predominantly for equity and foreign exchange options.
L, 32, who runs her own business for a leisurely 10 days a week to make a respectable 5-figure (in HKD) base income before busying herself with all manner of activities at her Singaporean husband’s business.
M, 29, Chindian, hardcore number crunching actuarist at large multi-national, newly single from dumping her cheating banker boyfriend.
Guess which Lang Lui this is? (Y, G, L or M – mind you they’re all quite lang lui)
Yes, we also talk about sex.
Now, if relatively newly-jobless-me could find someone “just” to hang out with. Just because.
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