Where do I begin? Much has happened and I’ve surprisingly stopped my countdown as the day draws near.

I’ve moved halfway round the world but have yet to start life proper in a beautiful country I now call home. I will marry my heaven-sent man in a couple of days and I am so excited about our life together. He gives me a sense of security that makes me believe that come what may, with him by my side, we are going to be more than okay. I know I’ll always have joy in my heart.

But the days leading to the wedding is like a final relationship strength test. As we make our final sprint towards the church, the things that need to be finalized keep getting interrupted and many other stress factors start to surface.

I’ve been blessed with a great groom who goes above and beyond himself to get things done. Not only has he single-handedly put together the vendors for our wedding, he has also arranged for a private driver and vehicle to bring my family and friends sightseeing. Not a word of complain escapes his lips.

On top of the many things he has to juggle, he has to deal with me with my idiosyncrasies, helplessness and myriad of emotions. Oh, and figuring out our post-wedding housing while we patiently await the construction of our house to complete.

Through the stress and anxiety, my groom has not flinched. He may lose his voice and battle a cold, but he never fails to cheer up the people around him, he never fails to get what needs to be done, done. I have so much love and admiration for him, I always have.

My countdown stopped the day I arrived in this country and jumped into the arms of my groom. I can’t quantify eternity and perhaps this is why my countdown has ceased.

With all the relocating I’ve done in the last decade, you’d think I’m great with farewells. I’m now adept with throwing out things and downsizing my wardrobe. The trick has always been to shelf sentimentality and shove everything else into a garbage bag. With people, I try to keep emotionally detached.

So it surprised me a great deal when I found myself in a teary goodbye as I packed up and left the office for the last time. My colleagues cried. I hugged people. Weird. Weird. Weird. I never expected to feel anything more than a working relationship and a good laugh at lunch. Then that had to happen, and what did I do? I ran out of there.

I guess I really didn’t know what I signed up for when I inked that employment contract. I never expected to like my job as much as I do. I looked forward to going into the office each day and have no qualms about working all sorts of hours. I never expected to make friends, much less actually like the people I work with. Saying goodbye was difficult.

Leaving this time around was a weird feeling. I’ve been counting down for the longest time ever! Being excited is an understatement. I’m going to be united with the most beautiful person I know where we will live out the rest of our lives side by side, come what may, wherever life takes us. My whole life lays ahead of me.

Yet, leaving this time really put an end to one chapter in life and begins a new one. I’m not only leaving the country I was born and raised for truly what would be an indefinite amount of time, I’m leaving my parents’ home to start one of my own.

What I leave behind cannot measure up to what I’m flying towards. And I don’t think my heart and mind knows how to handle this too well, so I’m going with the flow. I will marry my prince in 10 days. The wedding will happen as it would and I already know I’m going to miss that very day, very much.

My parents will return home, my friends go back to work and I’ll be the home-maker in a beautiful, beautiful country, where I don’t speak a single native language. Fingers-crossed I’ll give this experience what it deserves and share it as eloquently as I can here.

Tonight I learnt the best way to say good night and goodbye to a friend at the end of another great night out is to head to our respective homes, together. If you’re commuting, you’ll have to bid a quick goodbye as your stop approaches. If one of you is giving the other a ride home, there is a tendency to say a quick thank you and exit the vehicle.

I deserve a pat on the back. Lately, I’ve been practicing how to graciously exit a conversation that is done with. I’m now better able to walk away from my colleague’s desk. Less awkward lingering, and getting more comfortable with silence.

Today, I said goodbye to some people at the office. It isn’t officially my last day, but I’ve completed my last full work week and I think gradually saying goodbye might just make it easier and less regretful. The last thing I want is to not give each one of these wonderful people I work with and have built such unique friendships with, a haphazard goodbye. They deserve more than that.

Last night, I wrote thank you notes. I wrote down the things I’m too shy to say and meant every word of it. Today, I trembled as I handed them out.

This weekend will fly me by with the engagements I have lined up and the things that need to get done. And then it’s really goodbye. Oh God, please don’t let me cry.

It was a real awkward moment this evening when my friends and I – people I’ve known for more than half my life – had to split and head home. We were chased out of a party-pooper cafe that was closing for the night. So we stood outside, in a circle and uhhh… How do we say good night and adieu? An awkward group hug did nothing to ease the hesitation.

And this is something I’ve noticed and have a lot of trouble dealing with; my inability to end conversations properly. At work, I don’t know how to walk away from my co-worker’s desk when our dialogue dies a natural death. At home, I’m always buzzing and hop from one topic to another. With Eli, I have an endless supply of thoughts and very many stories to hog his time 24/7. Yes, I talk a lot, and I do have a problem with finales.

My darling groom said to me the other night: “We talk for two minutes and take an hour to say good night.” A lot of the time, an hour is an understatement.

He then went on to say that our “good night and see you” after each date lasts longer than the actual date. He exaggerates this… Right? If I’m Cinderella, we’d be sitting on the kerbside with mice running around and the pumpkin would have been made a pie.

I have some major goodbyes to say in the coming days. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with them. I have these heartfelt speeches in my head, but I’m always tongue-tied and too shy to verbalize them. I’m naturally more comfortable with the written word and it isn’t because I’m insincere about what I’ve got to ‘say’. I’m just really shy.

And, I really don’t like saying goodbye.

I know for one that Eli and I have to exchange a million and one good nights, because I am always so reluctant to have to hang up the phone or get out of the car. I’m just glad I won’t have to deal with that ever again once we marry in 16 days!

My beloved groom told me this evening that I’m now 100 per cent covered by a private insurer in our new country of residence.

As he was detailing my insurance coverage to me, I asked: “What about if I die? How much do you get?”

Eli: I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I don’t want to think about such things.

Me: It’s important. What happens if I die? If you lose me, at least you’d have money!

Eli: I’ll give you the money if you come back to life!

—
A good life partner, is the life insurance we all need. This is the real deal.

I can’t wait to join my heaven-sent man in 13 days!

The second Tuesday from this moment, at this exact time, will see me fluttering around the airport as excited as a bride. We’ve waited a long, long time for this!

We received an invite to the Singapore Yacht Show taking place from April 27 to 29, 2012. I was about to ask Eli if he’s coming in to town to attend, when I hesitated with a laugh. My beloved fiancĂ© asked with a smile: “Why not..?”

Me: Because you’ll be busy that weekend… You know, like going to a church and marrying the love of your life!

Eli: I’m glad it’s you.

A man who is very shy with using words to express his love, when he says things like that, how can I not clamour to pick up his socks every day?

We are officially a month away from beginning our lifelong adventure as husband and wife!

I was recently asked if Eli picked up my diamond ring on his own, if we shopped together or otherwise.

Before I was presented my dream ring by my beloved groom, I did think about how it would be if I was presented with a garish ring. What if I really didn’t like what he picked out? I’m still going to have to wear it forever!

It is rather common for the couple of shop for the ring together these days and there is nothing wrong with the girl knowing a marriage proposal is coming up. After all, if it’s only one of you feeling like it is time to take the next step, then your relationship isn’t ready to take the next step.

At the same time, I feel that the marriage proposal is the one thing that should be wholly orchestrated and executed by the man. I’m all for girl power and big city independence, but I’m still an old fashioned girl who appreciates chivalry. Particularly when it comes to romantic relationship.

Eli picked up my dream ring. It has an antique feel to it, yet is in no way old-fashioned. It has a romantic quality that really appeals to the fairytale-loving side of me. It will go so well with my big ball gown of a wedding dress! It is so – me.

How did he do it? I’m pretty sure he did his research. He had to! After all, in his culture, the man does not go on one bended knee and ask the girl if she would marry him. In his culture, the man does not have to buy a diamond ring for his bride.

Before embarking on the search for the perfect diamond, the man must first perfect his understanding of the woman he intends to marry.

He must know the girl’s style and her personality. Is she the practical type or the dreamy one? Does she like things flashy or understated? Does she go for minimalistic designs or cosy cottage?

Eli knows I’m a drama queen who is also very shy. He knows I am a die-hard romantic who believes in fairytales. And he also knows he mustn’t get me something that would put my life at risk because you know, sometimes I like to venture into East Hastings to source for art supplies. And I’m stubborn. Life or something Eli gave me? Take my life.

I’m not going to lie. I did tell Eli I prefer a six-prong ring over a four-prong one. I did also read up on cut, colour, clarity and carat weight. Unfortunately, it was too technical for me and I cannot recall a single bit of information now.

We discussed the material of the band – platinum, white gold or yellow gold. This is important because we have to consider the wedding bands – how the metals matched and if they would “eat” each other. We were very clear that our wedding bands must be identical, so no bridal ring set for me, et cetera.

White gold was quickly struck off because it is rhodium plated and will change colour.

Yellow gold was an option I seriously considered because it wasn’t going to change colour and was much cheaper than platinum. But, a diamond ring set in gold didn’t stand out. Additionally, it did not go well with Eli’s white skin and was so-so on my yellow skin.

Platinum was always the forerunner because my groom and I have expensive taste. It will never lose its colour and never gets “eaten”, the element (I forget its proper name) merely shifts. It is timeless. But, very, very expensive.

I did also say I didn’t want him spending money on side stones, which I felt steals away from the solitaire.

But would he listen? No! He went ahead and bought me a beautiful hand-crafted milgrain pave set ring in platinum. He said it doesn’t make sense to scrimp on paying for platinum when he’s already spending so much on the ring, and that the solitaire looked lonely without the 28 accompanying side diamonds.

Till today, I tell him that he should have just gone with a white gold band – and save a truckload of money – because the pave set diamonds go all the way around my size 4.25 ring finger.

“Use anti-aging products as soon as you can afford it,” is the one piece of advice I came across casually and have taken very seriously.

I don’t know why, but I don’t flinch when salesgirls grab me and try to sell me US$300 worth of beauty products. In fact, I ask them for the best anti-aging product they’ve got. Most of them look at me weirdly and say, “You look so young!” But I’m a god-sent consumer and they will never pass up on selling me the entire range. Then I get lazy with application and the products are left collecting dust on my study desk turn make-up table.

Most of the time, though, I stick with products available in the drug store. (Gosh, I miss Vancouver! Walmart! London Drugs! Shoppers Drug Mart! I miss you all!)

I don’t think it is necessary to spend hundreds of dollars on a brand name product. Most are made from the same manufacturer and packaged with a fancy label any way. I am also not adventurous with products because I’m one who believes in “don’t fix it if it ain’t broken”, so if it has been working for you why change? Plus, it isn’t funny to experiment with facial products because it might result in permanent scarring. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even risk temporary outbreaks.

I purchased my first face wash – St Ives Apricot Scrub – when I was in secondary school. I had bought into the print advertisement in one of the magazines I used to buy religiously back in the day when I was naive and the Internet was still poor. I believed that face scrubs were good to use every single day. So right till today, I have no idea if my good skin is due to religious face scrubbing, good genes or because I conduct a water parade every single hour. Probably a combination, and I’m thankful!

My mother advised me against daily scrubbing, saying that it would thin my skin too much. She even attributed my ‘green’ face to the fact that I scrub off new cells every single day. But I did not listen. It was until one of the beautician salesgirl I met a year ago told me the same thing my mother has been saying for the last decade and a half, that I stopped my daily scrubbing.

Now, I use a pro-collagen elastin scrub two days a week, apply anti-aging seaweed honey mask once a week (if I remember) and use a facial foam every other time I feel the need to wash my face.

And, I always do the same for my neck. Because, believe or not, at my age I can already see the difference in the skin elasticity between my face and neck, due to the sad reality that I had neglected my neck previously.

Watch this space and 40 years from today, I hope to say, “See I told you – use anti-aging products as soon as you can afford it!”

I am an “all or nothing” type of person. I never put in a half-baked piece of work and hope to get away with it. I’m by no means a “perfectionist”, but I really like to do the best with what I’ve got. I take pride in my work and if my name’s associated with it, there is no way I’m going to have it haphazardly done.

Similarly, I abhor insincerity. There’s just no in between. Either you’re an honest person or you’re a snake. Say what you mean and do what you say. You’ll sleep better, have real friends and be more spritely! Even I, who ain’t known to be nice know that.

I don’t come across as a nice person and people who think I’m sociable are grossly mistaken. My closest friends tell me they probably wouldn’t be friends with me if circumstances were different. But, they can definitely count on me to fight for their honour, because… Well, I’ve surprised myself with having feelings for people other than myself (and for Eli). I trust easily and as long as you don’t break that trust, you’ve got a true friend for life.

When I love, I love with all I’ve got. I give you my everything when I make a commitment to you. Be it my vow of endless love to my husband, or my friendship to my friends, and even my work dedication to my editor. All or nothing.

I don’t play games and I’m happier for it. At the same time, I’d probably get stabbed in the back because I don’t know how the game is played. While I do try to be politically correct (most of the time), in my bid to be a nicer person yet stay true to myself, I can’t reign in my sarcasm. Thankfully (or not), insincere people are usually in a cloud of their own and do not catch the sarcasm.

Aside, my mother says of all the things to learn, I picked up sarcasm. She thinks it ain’t nice to confuse people who don’t understand straightforward statements with sarcasm-laced speak.

I don’t even want to know how dishonest people live with themselves, but it bothers me when their behaviour interferes with my life, or the lives of people I care about.

Is it really so difficult to be who you really are? If you’re stupid, humbly admit that you don’t know how to get something done and ask for help. This might surprise you, but most people are actually really helpful! Or even if they aren’t helpful, they will help because it is a great ego boost to be able to educate and impart knowledge.

If you really didn’t do something, admit it. People will admire your courage to admit your oversight. They might even offer to get it done together with you. Just never ever give the bullshit that you’ve done it when you haven’t. Because, as the saying goes, paper can’t wrap fire. The truth will be out sooner than you can say, “I quit”.

Same thing with bragging. Either you have what it takes, or you don’t. Your employer is going to find out you do not have the right skill set and worse, have a severe handicap in looking for resources.

The bottom-line is, to know yourself and embrace what you’ve got. Only when you admit your inadequacies can you begin to eliminate them.

No one can fault you when you’re just being honest.

One of the first things I noticed and appreciated about Eli is his good eye in noticing the most subtle of things. He was always able to tell when I got my nails done even if they’re always the same French white nail tips at the length I always keep them.

Now, despite the distance and pockets of time we have together, he still notices when I have a fresh coat of nail polish on. And this continued attention to detail applies to every aspect of our life together.

I guess this is why I’m able to trust him completely with the planning and organisation of our wedding. Thirty-eight days to go!

Speaking of attention to detail! I recall our second date where we picnicked at Golden Ears Provincial Park. With butterflies in my stomach I wore my brand new sneakers and carried my running shoes in my bag. Oh, I had my flip flops too! I wanted to be prepared! For trekking! Volleyball! The beach! Whatever else it took to impress the man who has clearly impressed me. Eli of course noticed that I had on spanking new sneakers that have never touched ground and casually asked, “Are those new?” Embarrassed, I sheepishly replied: “No… I’ve had them for some time.” Well, technically I had bought them some days ago but just haven’t had the chance to wear them! I did subsequently admit this to the man I’m about to marry. You know, when he’s already secretly wanting me to be his wife! And still thoroughly smittened by our young love. (And I’m only partly kidding. Eli’s never going to admit the wife bit.)