The Other Woman

The other woman finds time to manicure her nails
The other woman is perfect where her rival fails
And she's never seen with pin curls in her hair

The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume
The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room
There are never toys that's scattered everywhere

And when her baby comes to call
He'll find her waiting like a lonesome queen
Cos when she's by his side
It's such a change from old routine


Oh my God, I don’t believe I actually qualify for this. I can’t imagine the things I’m saying to myself, and the things I’m doing to myself. There I go saying that I can come and go as I please, and no-one owns me. And here I am allowing myself to swallow the remnants of his time and affection while he devotedly nurses his girlfriend who’s down with God-knows-what. And listen to me bitch! LOL.

Face it, Adeline. You’re not as precious as you make yourself out to be. Hel-lo… you were the one who didn’t want to have a relationship with him. ‘He’s too old’ lah, ‘he’s already got a girlfriend’ lah, ‘my parents will kill me’ lah… all excuses you made and gave yourself. In the end, he’s just a man. He’s just human. It makes sense, all of it. He’s in a relationship devoid of physical affection, with a long-standing girlfriend. But it’s a long-standing relationship alright; come rain come shine, in sickness and in health, she’s the one he runs to when in dire need of help – and he, her. So no matter what happens to you – it doesn’t matter if there is no water in your house for the next two days and you can’t shower, when the bona fide girlfriend gets a high fever, he’ll devotedly bring her to the doctor’s, buy her dinner, clean her and even after watching football at 2am in the morning, will drive to her house just to look after her. You wish lah he’ll drive to Ampang when you’re throwing your guts up. Because in the end, she’s the Real Deal. And you?

You’re an afterthought, you fool. An idea, a fantasy, a sigh… nothing, by-the by.

Get real, Ade. Hard your core! Your eggs are rotting in that basket. They’re not going anywhere. Yet you keep plying on the eggs and they’re all getting crushed.


But the other woman will always cry herself to sleep
The other woman will never have his love to keep
And as the years go by the other woman
Will spend her life alone...