I have two lady friends in my life who loath the site of each other. One of them, is my sister from another mother, Fleshball, who used to be Singapore’s Bounciest Prostitute to walk to streets of Geylang. The other is a lady that we should dub, the Mother Hen, who claims that she was once a Hot Chick and informs me that should she put effort to seduce, few men of worth would be able to resist.
These two ladies hate each other. As far as Fleshball
is concerned, the Mother Hen is a pretentious little “b***h” with no manners,
whilst the Mother Hen is convinced that Fleshball is a venomous little prostitute
who is jealous of the Mother Hen’s better looks, despite the fact that the
Mother Hen is significantly older (Fleshball is eight-years younger than me,
and the Mother Hen is eight-years older. I’ll be 50 in November).
They’ve met all of once. Then, they had an accidental
reunion at an event where I usually invite just about everyone to on my contact
list. It was obvious to all and sundry that there was bad blood between the
two. Mother Hen tried to befriend a few people there and suddenly went into a
mode that the people she was trying to befriend were avoiding her because
Fleshball was spreading “Venom” about her. She spent two hours on the phone telling
me that Fleshball was jealous of her and spreading “venom” because she was
merely jealous and Mother Hen hadn’t done anything to her.
I tried to explain to the Mother Hen that she had
started her relationship with Fleshball by insulting her. Asked her what size
her feet were and offered to give Fleshball her shoes she had worn. The Mother
Hen could not understand why Fleshball would feel insulted because her shoes
were branded and, well these days people actually sell used shoes online. As far
as the Mother Hen was and is concerned, she was being kind. She told me, “If
she has pride, why does she work as a prostitute.” Many months later, Fleshball
would get her own back when she found the Facebook page of the Mother Hen with
a photo of the Mother Hen posing showing off her midriff. Fleshball sent her a
message telling her that nobody would look at her even if she was naked. The
Mother Hen reminds me constantly that we didn’t speak because I chose Fleshball
over her.
I’m not going to delve into the emotions of the two
ladies. However, what I will say is that the grounds of this incident are
placed in the ability of two people who refused to empathize with each other.
With Fleshball, everyone had a good laugh when I told them
what had happened. However, to be fair to the Mother Hen, it was probably scary
to receive one of Fleshball’s unsolicited messages. Think of it as someone you
barely remember coming up to you and telling you all sorts of things.
As for the Mother Hen, its amazing how many people
from “privileged” backgrounds seem to blind when it comes to the feelings of
the less fortunate. It got tough trying to explain to the Mother Hen that
whatever her initial intentions were, her offer came across of “patronizing”
and “condescending.
She had known Fleshball for all of ten minutes when
she made the offer. It came across as “You poor thing – take my hand me downs
and be grateful I’m willing to give you, my things.” When I told a lawyer friend,
I had introduced both women to, his reply was “Why did you insult Fleshball by
introducing her to the Mother Hen.” My mother said, “You mean you actually know
people who speak like that?”
There is nothing wrong with “hand me downs” per se. I
work in the insolvency trade, where the best part is dealing in used items and
taking items that might otherwise be destined for the scrap heap. For the
longest of times, I actually used a “hand me down “phone from Huong.
However, Huong and I happened to be married for a
decade when I took her phone. During liquidation sales, its about looking for
value. The Mother Hen had met Fleshball for all of ten minutes when she made
the offer and it never occurred to her that what she was offering was
insulting.
It boils down to this, just because someone earns
less, it doesn’t mean they are dependent on you. People who work in what can
only be described as “awful” professions are entitled to have a certain amount
of dignity – they buy their own cloths and feed themselves. As a Pinoy friend
explained “I am a proud man, I am willing any job to feed my family rather than
beg from you.”
In Singapore, pride is often used to justify sloth. I
think of the number of long-term unemployed who refuse to take menial jobs
because, well, they can’t afford to be seen working in menial task. However,
they have no problem asking friends for handouts to maintain their status. This
needs to change. We need people who are willing to humble themselves in order
to survive. A society that encourages people to have pride in what they do, no
matter how menial is society that produces winners.
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